7. Bash felt a tightening around his neck and wrists. He suddenly noticed how little the bindings felt like rope. “We’ve actually been pretty impressed with your work. There’s almost an art to it, the way you muck up these marks of yours. No trails left. Real clean shop you’ve got down here too.” said the voice with a wave towards the rest of the basement. Bash sucked in a mouthful of wet, bleach-tinged air and weakly hacked out the only sensible thought he could muster. “Wh-...who?”