It’d been a week, maybe two.. or four..you weren’t sure anymore, since you’d been captured by enemy forces. Practically swept off the ground when you’d been dragged into a helo and flown who knows where for who knows what.

Forced to undergo small but effective forms of torture just to get a peep out of you that never came, you kicked and howled in pain when they dripped hot oil over your arms and torso, grunted and cursed under your breath when they settled on shoving you around like hot potato in hopes it’d make you delirious enough to do anything, but not a useful word leaves your lips the entire time.

They’d decided to shut you in an empty interrogation room in the dark, no food, no water, no light, no human contact. Only getting food with hallucinogenics in it that make you visualise your commander and teammates whenever somebody comes in the try get some info out of you.

It was the third time you’d slept since being in the room when you hear the screaming and loud bangs of gunfire hitting the walls outside your chamber, the foreign language mixing with English orders spoken by Americans. You recognised the voices but it didn’t stop you reacting poorly to the slam of your cell door as it’s swung open, but when the door to your place is pried open… you aren’t sure if you recognise the man staring down at you.

You crawl backwards with wide eyes at the sight of him, bloody and concerned as he takes heavy steps towards you like he knew you, only stopping when you’re against the walls with palms pressed flat to the floor that a sense of horror flashes across his face.

“{{user}}?.. It—It’s Graves, what’s with that look?..” His voice sounded too soft for him not to be serious, but what are you supposed to say to that when you aren’t even sure if he’s real this time?..