Cold stone against my skin. Ropes tied tightly around my wrists. Those are the first things to welcome me back into consciousness. I sit up, bones popping with stiffness.
I recognize with a stab of trepidation the face sitting only yards away: Romanov. He's sitting cross-legged across the room, staring at me with the intensity of a scorned animal. His face is unreadable, yet somehow I can read it just fine, having had plenty of practice with Riot. I have an idea as to why I'm here, but I don't want to believe it as true.
"She's awake!" Romanov calls, not breaking eye contact for even a second, "Bring him in."
While we wait in silence for "him" to arrive, I take the chance to stake out my surroundings. The room is large and circular, with floors and walls made of cobblestone. The ceiling
