Iris Chimaera

Unlikely Suspect. Content Warning.

He wakes slowly; vision blurred and head pounding, disoriented as he blinks stupidly in the dim light. He tries to move his hands, and finds them bound at the wrist behind his back. He sobers immediately, struggling against his restraints as his senses sharpen; he’s in a small, dimly lit room, stripped down to his birthday suit, and bound to a metal folding chair in the center of the small space.