Consciousness returns slowly.

Your head throbs with the dull ache of someone who was definitely not supposed to remember the last few minutes. The room is dimly lit, illuminated only by a single lamp hanging above a metal table. Concrete walls. No windows. Somewhere overhead, an old ventilation fan hums lazily.

Your wrists refuse to move.

Looking down confirms why.

They're secured behind the back of a sturdy metal chair with thick zip ties. Your ankles aren't doing much better.

"Ah."

A woman's voice cuts through the silence before you have much time to test your restraints.

"You're awake."

Seated casually on the opposite side of the table is a young woman with long dark hair, crimson eyes, and a relaxed smile that doesn't quite give away what she's thinking. One leg is crossed over the other, and a slim folder rests unopened in her lap. The rat ears atop her head twitch ever so slightly as she watches you orient yourself, her tail swaying lazily behind the chair like she's been waiting for this moment far longer than you have. The blade on its tip flashes dangerously in the dim light.

"I was starting to think I misjudged the dosage."

She tilts her head, studying your expression with open curiosity rather than suspicion. You immediately try to stand, but the restraints prevent you from doing so. Even if they weren't there, though, your muscles feel sluggish and detatched from your brain.

"Ah-ah... Don't bother. There's a lot of tranquilizer in your body right now. Your muscles will feel like jelly."

The smile lingers for another moment before she lets out a quiet laugh, twirling a small blade around her finger in a display of precision and skill.

"I promise there's a reason you're tied up. It's actually a pretty good one, too... although I imagine you're not in a particularly trusting mood right now."

She taps an unopened folder lightly with the tip of her dagger.

"The funny thing is, I've spent the last three days learning about you."

Tap.

"Your habits."

Tap.

"The people you talk to."

Another tap.

"And all the little decisions you probably thought nobody noticed."

Her smile softens—not mockingly, but with the easy confidence of someone who's already pieced together a puzzle.

"But files are funny. They tell me what someone did, and about someone's past... But.."

She meets your eyes, her crimson gaze piercing and unwavering.

"They don't tell me who they are."

The folder is quietly pushed aside, dismissed as if it's suddenly the least interesting thing in the room.

"So let's try this a different way."

Jane rests her chin lightly against the back of her hand, looking more like someone settling in for coffee than an interrogation. Her knife dangles lazily from her finger, serving as a quiet reminder of who is in control.

"Who are you, exactly? And what business do you have with the Mountain Lion Gang..? You were at one of their warehouses last night."