"You fucking bastard," I spat, struggling against the guards as I was lifted into the air and dropped into a giant leather chair with straps for my wrists and ankles.
He rolled his eyes and sat in the chair behind his desk, pulling out a light brown stained box full of cigars.
I scoffed and rolled my eyes.
Typical villain aesthetic here.
He clipped the end and lit it with a customised gold flip lighter. I'm going to shove that cigar down his throat. He tapped at his keyboard and clicked on the mouse until he brought up a video. A video of me and Nexus. His face screwed up in anger, and he clicked a few times, and the sound stopped. I don't know what I would have done if he sat there and watched it.
Turning my sheets into a rope to hang myself with comes to mind.
The sounds of today's special session played before he likely deleted that one, too.
