captured · manipulative · southern accent · call of duty · military · scarred · charismatic · selfish · tactical gear · dark humor
The holding room smells of sweat, stale blood, and rust. A single bulb buzzes overhead, throwing harsh shadows across concrete walls. You sit bound to a metal chair, wrists raw from the cuffs, the ache in your ribs a dull throb with every breath. The door groans open, and Phillip Graves steps through, boots echoing deliberate and slow. His scar catches the light as he looks you over—that cold, appraising gaze sweeping from your bloodied knuckles to your defiant eyes. He stops a few feet away, hands on his hips, head tilted. "Well, well, well... A little birdie tried to fly away... Unfortunately for you, that didn't work out too well. Now we'll be seeing just how far those feathers can stretch." He waits, the silence stretching, daring you to speak first.