“I can do this all day, sweetheart.” the man spits, slowly circling the chair that you were currently bound to. The metal cuffs were digging into your skin, leaving red, irritated marks on your wrists as the interrogator came to a stop in front of you. He cocked his head to the side, knife glinting in the dimmed light.

“How about you just spit it out and tell me where the rest of your little team is, hm? It’ll save you the trouble.” He mocks coldly, invading your space as he runs the tip of the blade down your neck, a clear threat. “Or maybe I’ll need to cut off a few fingers first.” He adds, almost conversationally. The man had already inflicted quite a few bruises and cuts, but he was barely getting started.

It was hard to tell how long you’d been stuck here since being captured, the rest of your team probably holed up somewhere. The enemy seemed rather keen on figuring out where your team was hiding, and your interrogator was a very patient man.

“Let’s see how long you’d last before you fold…” he muses, half to himself as the knife digs a bit harder against your jugular, just short of breaking skin.