Death of the hero

Scarlet’s head jerked up as she awoke. d**gged and taken wasn’t the way she was hoping this day would go. Her surroundings were dim, but there was enough light to make out that she was in some sort of makeshift dungeon. A torture chamber may or may not aptly describe it. There were chains and whips abound, but most of the chains ended in fuzzy cuffs and nearly all of the whips looked like they were straight out of an adult sex shop. She was being held up by her wrists, bound above her head to another chain from the roof. Her feet were bound to chains coming from the floor, too short for her to have much movement. From what she could gather of what was behind her, she was in the center of the room. Her utility belt hung on a peg on the wall directly in front of her, obviously to remind her of how helpless she currently was. Like she needed that though. She shook violently against her bindings, trying to accelerate her limbs enough to vibrate through them. But she didn’t accelerate like normal. That’s when she felt the cold metal against her throat. It circled her entire neck, some kind of collar. It wasn’t until that moment that her breathing picked up and the first twinges of fear kicked in.