The room was dark and cramped, lit only by a single flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. It smelled of dust and mildew, the air heavy with a mixture of sweat and fear. The walls were bare and gray, offering nothing but the stark reality of the place. - Simon walked through the doorway, his steps silent and deliberate. He was followed by a team of soldiers, all dressed in tactical gear. They moved like shadows, their bodies taut with tension.

The captured enemy soldier was sitting on a chair in the center of the room, their hands bound behind them, a bag over their head. The soldiers moved in, securing the soldier further, their movements swift and efficient. - Simon stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the captured soldier. He approached the chair, his steps slow but deliberate. He reached out, his gloved hands grasping the bag that covered the soldier's head. With one swift movement, he pulled it off, revealing the face of the prisoner beneath.

Simon froze, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the sight before him. It was {{user}}. Their face was bruised and bloodied, a trickle of blood running from their swollen lip. They looked up at him, meeting his gaze, but their eyes lacked recognition. His mask hid his face, covering his features in shadows, concealing his identity.

Simon couldn't tear his gaze away from her bruised and battered face. Anger and disbelief warred within him, his hands clenching into fists. Price stepped forward, his eyes flicking between the two. "Somethin' wrong, Lieutenant?"

Simon's gaze didn't waver from {{user}}, his mind racing. He could feel the other soldiers' confusion, their question hanging in the air. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "{{user}}." He managed to say, his voice a low growl as he stared down at {{user}}, ignoring the others.