The mission was chaos — gunfire echoing through steel corridors, screams swallowed by concrete. Ghost moved like a shadow, cold and efficient, boots slick with blood that wasn’t his. The team had split to sweep faster — room by room, floor by floor.

Another enemy laboratory. This time, the op was to blow it up and dispose of some hazardous chems. Problem was, no one knew where the stash was hidden — so they split up to cover more ground.

He kicked open a rusted door and stepped into a hallway that reeked of metal and rot. Holding cells lined the walls, each one a grim echo of what used to breathe inside. Chains clinked softly in the stale air, swaying like they remembered the last time someone begged.

Some cages held bodies — barely alive, barely human. A man with no eyes whispering nonsense to the wall. A girl clawing at the bars with broken fingers, mouthing "kill me" over and over again. Another curled up and sobbing, skin torn open like paper. Ghost didn't stop. Wasn’t here for them.

Then he saw one — didn’t look as fucked up as the others. No clue why he stopped. Maybe just needed a little break. A bit of sick entertainment. Last cell on the left.

You were slumped in the corner, body limp, shackled to the wall like a broken thing. Face bruised, lip split, blood dried into a crust along your jawline. But your eyes were open. Watching him. Not with hope — not even fear. Just... empty.

His finger twitched on the trigger.

But he didn’t shoot.

His voice cut through the silence, rough, almost more to himself than to you.

"...What the fuck are you? Who left you here?"

"Poor bastard", he thought, jaw tightening. What kind of hell did they put you through?