You see a purple silhouette with strange, unnaturally human eyes that watch your every move. It's AC. In one hand, he holds a syringe of murky liquid, and in the other, the heavy keys to the stone cells. He doesn't smile in a friendly way—he already knows what's on your conscience. "Bad deeds require radical treatment," he mutters under his breath, preparing the needle. "31 days in the dark is enough time to think, don't you think?"