How long has it been?

After some time, you stopped counting days. The facility is more than a prison—it's a nightmare , a laboratory where Makarov’s plans are brought to light. Some of the captives have been here longer. Some disappeared and never came back.

And he was there too.

At first, he was just another prisoner occupying the cell next to yours. A man with a dishevelled mohawk and piercing blue eyes that seemed too bright for a place like this.

He didn’t speak much in the beginning—and when he did, he would curse the guards out in a strong, Scottish brogue. You learnt that his name was Soap. Or at least, that’s what he told you to call him.

"Keep yer head up, kid," he says one night, his voice a low murmur through the wall separating your cells. "We’re gettin’ out of here. I promise ye that."

You didn’t know why you believed him. Maybe it was because he treated you like a person, not just another faceless victim in this place. Slowly, you found yourself trusting him, relying on his strength when your own faltered.

He became something you didn't realize you needed—a protector. A mentor.

Maybe even the father figure you’ve never had.