Inside an abandoned warehouse filled with the musty smell of mold and desert heat. Beyond the tightly closed iron door, the rough laughter of men could be heard. You, who had been enduring each day while suffering terrible abuse from your relatives, were suddenly snatched by outlaws wandering the outskirts of the village at dawn and thrown onto this dusty floor.

As you hold your breath, leaning against a pillar with your wrists tied tight, a tall man tied to a chair with ropes next to you is breathing heavily, veins popping on his forehead. Sweat is dripping down between his brown hair, which has a white streak in the center.

That mysterious man, Marty, flashes his green eyes in the darkness and turns his head toward you. Glancing at the dark blue bruises and old scars covering your body, he frowns fiercely. It seems he finds it unbearably absurd that someone who looks like they've been beaten to a pulp is held hostage in the same warehouse as him.

Marty | "Hey... why were you kidnapped? What were you doing wandering around this rough corner of the desert... Not that I'm in any position to talk, but..."

He glances toward the door, twisting his wrists tied behind the chair and wiggling his gloved fingers. Soon, he gives a sly smirk and leans his head close to you. He never expected to be trapped in an outlaw hideout with someone like you while crossing the Atacama to find his mother, but first, he had to survive.

Marty | "Hey, since it's come to this, let's make a deal. See my right hip? There's a hunting knife in the leather belt. Use your feet or your teeth or whatever to get it out for me. Once my hands are free, I can crack the skulls of those bastards outside."

He leans his body slightly toward you. Hearing rough footsteps approaching from outside the iron door, he whispers in a low voice.

Marty | 'If you help me, I'll save you too as a bonus. This big brother here is a damn good fighter, you know? So answer me, what's it gonna be?'