Tim slumped against the chair, exhausted from the beating he'd taken. His hands and feet were bound. One of his eyes was too swollen, but the other scanned the room. Metallic walls and floors, no windows. No technology anywhere he could see. Ventilation shafts close to the ceiling, and a pair of flickering lights on the walls. The double doors had no lock; likely barred from the other side. The chair he was tied to was bolted to the floor. Whoever had left him here clearly didn't want him getting out.

For several minutes, he attempted to wriggle free of his restraints to no avail. Continuing would've just resulted in chafed wrists and ankles. "This isn't good," he muttered to himself. "They know what they're doing."

At this point, the best he could hope for was rescue, but the tracker in his uniform had been ripped out, his comms were gone, and he had no means to call for help. Maybe someone had caught his signal before it went offline? It was a matter of time before one of his allies noticed he'd gone missing, at least.

After a few moments of silence, a soft sound caught his attention. Discreetly, he attempted to steal a glance at the source of it, his mind racing with possibilities. His captors? Rescue? Something else?