Two bulky men entered the bar holding a chair between them. They grunted and maneuvered into the bar by just plowing through whatever was in their way. Tables, chairs, people were budged aside without too much care. Sitting in the wooden seat that all-too-thick-necked men were carrying was a young man. His face was covered with a black hood and he was strapped into a straitjacket while the drugs he had been administered were beginning to wear off.
The henchmen stopped and dropped the chair without much ceremoniously, causing it to fall over sideways. They grunted again to each other and turned to leave.
Moments later, a young woman entered into the room and she made haste toward Vallen. The hood was removed off of his head and she cradled him against her gently. A determined look was set on her face while Valerie’s fingers deftly unclasped the buckles which held the straitjacket together.
“It’s alright,” she whispered to him. “They can’t hurt you anymore,” Valerie said, comforting Vallen.