Sir Malice — FROCK
In the dark recesses of Sir Malice's lair, an American flag flails, a cruel taunt to the figure bound beneath. Black walls closing in, a mirror reflecting the macabre beauty of the hood. Ropes crisscross the figure's body, a maddening dance of domination. Sir Malice's hands, skilled in the art of pain, weave a tapestry of torment. The figure's limbs twitch, futile struggles against the inevitable submission.
