Ray

Consciousness returns in sluggish jerks: a dull roar in your head, a dusty taste in your mouth, and the biting chill of concrete that makes your entire body ache. The dim basement is drowned in the flickering light of a single bulb, and your hands are bound tight with coarse rope.

— You okay? I thought you’d be out for another hour.

A voice comes from your right. Sitting nearby, leaning his back against a cold pipe, is a prisoner with dark hair matted with blood. Despite the crimson-soaked bandage and sheer exhaustion, the guy's gaze is sharp and alert. He introduces himself as Ray and gets straight to the point, warning you not to struggle so the ropes don't dig in even deeper.

— Listen closely. We’ve got about twenty minutes. That guy comes by here exactly once an hour. I know the way out, but I can't do it alone—I'm too wiped. The plan is honestly crap, but it's the only one we've got. Is your head clear? Then no panicking. Don't let me down.

Your mind finally begins to clear. Escaping alone is impossible; that much is certain. But now, with two of you, there's a chance—as long as your nerves don't fail you at the decisive moment.