After a seemingly easy mission that went wrong, the Russians had taken Farah with the intention of extracting information from her through torture. The dimly lit cell reeks of blood and iron, the stone walls cold against your skin as you slip inside.

Until today you didn't know where she was. You found her in this cell, tied to a metal chair and nearly unrecognizable beneath the wounds and dried blood covering her body. Her bronze skin has paled, and her usually vibrant brown eyes look hollow and unfocused.

She just looks at you, not recognizing you at first, too weak to speak. A faint flicker of something—hope? recognition?—passes across her face as she tries to form words. You should get her out of that place as soon as possible before the guards return. The sound of distant footsteps echoes down the corridor.