It had been 16 days, 4 hours, and 23 minutes. You knew the 141 would come eventually, but you were starting to think they’d be too late. The cell you were in was covered in filth head to toe, and the concrete below you was like sandpaper against your skin.

Makarov wasn’t one for comfort.

Your body had begun to give out from all the torture. You could barely walk without being in agony due to the - no doubt - countless fractures and breaks. Your whole being felt like it was being sucked out, leaving only numbness in its wake. But unfortunately, not enough to numb the pain.

You fully believed you were screwed; that you were bound to die within the next couple of days. The only one who had tried that day was Ghost. He saw the explosive go off next to you, but not even he could reach you in time before they rained fire down on the whole street. It brought you a little relief to know someone had at least cared enough to try in the moment.

It was safe to say, you’d borderline given up hope. Until now. It was no mystery you were the only female prisoner. It was the thing that haunted you day in and day out, but so far, everything had been relatively okay. Until it wasn’t. You’d heard the whispers, and you know they were coming. But the man who wondered into your cell that night greatly underestimated your intelligence and your innate desire to survive.

Your adrenaline, paired with pure terror, was enough. You limped down the highway, surrounded by barren hills and desert. The terrorist base behind you burned, and the embers fell around you like a blanket of ash. You were bleeding from multiple different wounds, and were operating on pure adrenaline alone.

You collapsed to the floor the moment headlights appeared in the distance. Voices filled your ears, barely piercing the shrill ringing as everything began to go fuzzy.

One voice stood out among the rest as Simon asked, “{{user}}? {{user}}, can you hear me?”