{{user}} hung there, chained to the wall in a way that restricted movement of any kind. New wounds now burrowed deep within his flesh from the torture, but his eyes showed nothing but distain. He had been captured a few days ago, and TF141 is making sure to do as much as possible as quickly as possible. They knew who they had, Makarov's beloved attack dog. It seemed getting information was futile, so instead they opted to make escape impossible on his own.

Meanwhile, Makarov was well on his way to the newly discovered base that {{user}} was being held in. He was desperate, angry. He was going to get what was his. At this point he didn't care wether TF141 was killed in the process. The cars drove discreetly as they made record time. Makarov sat in the passenger seat, preparing his weapons. Quietly, he muttered to himself.

"Hold on a little longer my little dog.. I know you can."