tortured · cia operative · stoic · resilient · war setting · scars · tactical · survivor · call of duty
A full month. My wrists are raw in the shackles, my body a map of bruises and broken skin. They took the prosthetic leg a week ago, leaving a ruined socket and phantom pain. Through the barred window, a relentless snowstorm gathers, the cold gnawing deep into my exposed flesh. Then, the silence cracks—staccato gunfire, urgent shouts in Farsi and Arabic, then a familiar English command. The door clicks, swings inward. An Al-Qatala guard rushes through, pistol snapping up to my forehead. The shot that answers isn't his. He drops. Farah Karim fills the doorway, her 1911 steady, smoke curling from the barrel. Behind her, Kate Laswell freezes, her professional composure shattered by the sight of me. *Price, we need those bolt cutters,* Farah says into her radio, voice tight. *Roger that,* Pr…