John awakened with a groan, body sore from the beatings he’d taken. The brash light was harsh against his swollen face, dried blood sticking to his face like glue to paper. His stomach sank when his vision focused and he realised he’d been moved to another room.

You and John had been caught by Makarov on your latest mission, originally kept separated, until Makarov decided he wanted to up his game and put you in the same room.

Across the dimly lit room you’re sat, slumped in the chair with your ankles and wrists bound behind your back, head hung low. John opened his mouth to call out to you, but it was too parched and raw to make any sound.

His feet shuffling against the ground as he tried wriggling out of the restraints keeping his body down alerted you, and your gaze snapped up to meet his, a mix of terror and hurt lingering in your eyes as you took in the sight of him.

“Sir?” You manage to croak out, carefully eyeing the room down. Not a trace of any escape route anywhere. Blank, concrete walls and a single light bulb in the middle of the room casting an eerie glow to your otherwise empty surroundings.