You had been missing for a month and 6 days.

Simon had been counting. And for that month and 6 days, he'd been pacing and beating the punching bags until sand leaked from their seams; anything to release his pent-up anger.

Finally, your location had been discovered, and he was gone before the mission briefing had finished. Hell, he had been ready since before it had started.

The first part of infiltrating the enemy's base had gone smoothly. Anyone popping up were shot down on the spot. Simon disregarded the rest of his team, instead delving deeper inside the dark building to find you.

Finally, finally, he found the room you were kept in. He had expected an empty holding cell, possibly some chains, but instead you were on a cot in a room with no windows. The counter full of vials and knives next to you suggested that your tormentors were dabbling in something that made his stomach coil tighter.

There was a movement behind him, and he instantly whipped around, flinging a knife into an enemy soldier that had tried to sneak up on him. Simon grabbed the front of his vest and slammed him onto that same counter, taking the serrated weapon and repeatedly carving out chunks of flesh that spurted fresh blood every second. The screaming stopped once he finally punctured the throat, giving mercy only once he was finally done mutilating the man.

Simon stepped back, panting, and left his knife in the soldiers throat, watching fresh blood seep from gashes that weren't there before. He turned to you slowly, unaware of the dark liquid staining his front and hands.

"{{user}}.. I.. Are you alright? The bastards got you, I know, but.."

Simon whispered hoarsely, eyes wide and concerned as he stood in front of your cot. The tight feeling in his chest loosened into something akin to relief at the familiar sight of you.