Opening her eyes to nothing but darkness but the forced confines keeping her still, she would find a sudden set of headlights to grant her illumination from her back. But when her gaze would adjust to the stygian night overhead, it would not be to take in the sights of some car or warehouse that her mind had conjured. Instead, she would watch as an office chair, strapped with a figure tied down in the extra racing clothes had now come into view. After only another moment of studying, she would take in the details of a battered man, stained with blood coming from a cut somewhere on his cheek and of a wound of his mouth as he was seemingly immobile in his confines. It wouldn’t be until the sound of the horn at her back, making her jump an impressive height considering her own binds, before
