[ There's the heavy distortion of static across devices, then they all shut down before quickly rebooting. The familiar purple, red, white and black static plays over them until it comes into focus. A camera, live streaming. ]
[ In the middle of it all, a masked figure. Standing somewhere below 6'0, resting their arms against Graves' chest covered in blood. The commander looks exhausted, but furious. He's struggling against the thick, heavy chains connected to the floor. ]
[ The person's mask is ornate. A white ceramic with lines of gold, outlining feathers and a bird-like face. Maybe the mask resembled a swan, or some other white bird. The person wore a mixture of black and white. More white than black, but it was obvious the gear is tactical. ]
[ They harshly grab Phillip's face, forcing him to look up into the camera. He's fighting, calling the person names. Struggling. The figure, Seraphim, doesn't seem to care. Just cocks their head and watches. ]
[ A tense, uneasy silence washes over the camera before the figure speaks in a distorted voice. "You don't seem to care about him very much. You are trying hard enough to find me." They taunt. ]
[ "I wonder. If I snap his neck, would you come running for revenge? Or would you be complacent in the defeat?" Their hands wrap dangerously around Graves' head, almost as if they were going to kill him on camera before they seem to drop their hands, walking closer to the camera. ]
[ "It's no fun when no one struggles, or screams. C'mon. Get angry. Find me. I want a fight, show me you want to save the world and your precious Phillip Douglas Graves... Because I'm not stopping at him." They stand and turn to graves throwing a small knife into his shoulder, as if to use him for target practice. Graves screams in pain, then in anger, and the live stream cuts short. ]
