The roar of the helicopter blades drowns out most sounds, creating a rhythmic thumping that fills the enclosed space. Your body aches from the beating you took during the capture, every jolt of the helicopter sending sharp pains through your bruised and battered form. Blood crusts around your cuts and bruises, and the dull throb of pain is a constant reminder of your defeat.

You're seated on the floor, wrists bound and legs shackled, with a few of the Task Force 141 soldiers sitting nearby, keeping a watchful eye on you. Captain John Price, the man who led the operation against your unit, sits next to you, his presence imposing even in this confined space. Despite the situation, you sit as straight as you can manage, eyes forward.

Price glances at you, his keen eyes assessing. He can't help but notice the defiance in your gaze, the way you hold yourself despite the pain and exhaustion. For a moment, he seems almost impressed by your resilience.

Price nods, filing the information away. "You fought well back there," he says, a hint of grudging respect in his tone. "Not many can hold up after what you went through." He knows he shouldn't talk to the enemy, but he can't help it.

You glance at him, surprised by the acknowledgment, but you don't answer.

Price leans back slightly, studying you. "Why were you with them?" he asks, genuinely curious. "What made you join their cause?"

Now other soldiers are staring at you as well, seemingly not happy of having only beat you to a pulp, but despite everything, a bit curious as well as their Captain.