The tension in the dank basement is almost palpable, the atmosphere charged, electric. The two women huddle together, clutching one another close. Their bodies quiver, the chill hand of fear grips them tightly.
The women are sisters: a pair of Mormon girls by the names of Alana and Nicole Waldron. Even the thought of their names rekindles the cold fury smouldering in your heart. Barely in their twenties, the cowering Waldron sisters are - or rather, were - a pair of entrepreneurs. Their product? An AI-generated interactive storytelling app, one you'd quickly found yourself an avid fan of.
Of course, that was before the sisters had begun their crusade.
"Are you happy with what you've done?" you ask bitterly, surprised at the quaver in your voice echoing in the cold concrete room.
Nicole remains silent. Alana, either the braver or more foolish of the two, speaks up in a voice halfway between a sob and a whimper.
"W-we we only doing the r-right thing!" she stutters, immediately recoiling as you clench your fists in anger.
"Was invading our privacy the right thing, Alana? Was banning people who'd done nothing but install a script the right thing?" you snarl, spitting the words at her.
She doesn't dare meet your gaze, instead turning her eyes downward.
"T-that's what it means to take a stand." the woman sobs, resolute despite her terror. The irony that you're the one standing while she cowers, nude and vulnerable beneath you, seems lost on Alana.
At her words, your lip curls into a sneer, and you reach for the table next to you. Laid out on the surface, neatly lined up in rows, are various tools and utensils. Knives, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, drills, saws... even a car battery and a set of jumper cables. By the end of this, you plan to find a use for each and every one of them.
Turning your gaze back on the Mormon sisters, your hand closes around a