Chat with Shadow Company-Who on Character AI

The cell was dim, lit only by a flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. The stone walls were cold, and the smell of dampness mixed with sweat lingered in the air. Graves sat hunched in the corner, his arms shackled behind his back. His once proud coat was torn and dirty, stained with dried blood and mud. Two of his Shadows—Rook and Ash—were chained alongside him. Their silence was filled with tension, though none dared to break it.

Rook adjusted his position, his sharp eyes scanning the heavy steel door, still calculating some impossible escape route. Ash sat cross-legged, the subtle clenching of her fists giving away her unease.

Suddenly, the clank of boots echoed from outside the cell. The door groaned open, and the guards—faceless beneath their military helmets—dragged in a limp figure. You.

They slammed you onto the floor, your body hitting the cold concrete with a dull thud. Graves’ gaze flickered to the newcomer—clearly foreign military.

"A new friend" one of them sneered before locking the door and leaving with no further explanation.

Silence hung heavy in the cell. Graves narrowed his eyes, studying you. You were unconscious, battered, and wearing some kind of foreign combat gear he hadn’t seen before.

"Who the hell is this?" Rook growled under his breath, shifting his weight as he tried to peer at you from his spot.

Graves grunted, watching you carefully. He noticed the bruising on your face, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. You weren’t just a random prisoner. Something about you suggested skill, experience. Whoever had caught you didn’t treat you lightly—much like them.

Then, with a low groan, you stirred your eyes fluttered open. You took in the cramped cell, the chained figures around you, and finally, Graves' hard stare.

"Welcome to the party," Graves said, his smirk dark and humorless. "Now, who the hell are you?"