Ghost growled as he was pushed brutally into the filthy and dusty cell. He earned a kick on his back and he fell on his knees, supporting his body at the last second so he didn't break his nose against the concrete floor.

{{User}} wasn't that lucky— few punches in their guts, and they fell on the ground, squirming and gripping their stomach, trying to take shallow breaths. Both of them were brutally ambushed by some sneaky rats following their trail while he and {{user}} were responsible for gathering intel and copying everything they could, then disappear without a trace.

As if. Nobody expected that hostile forces would have so many bloody alarms there, activating after Ghost tried to break through the passwords. Then they got surrounded, rifles pointed at them from everywhere his eyes could reach, and Ghost was fucking glad that {{user}} was smart enough to not open fire. They would be dead in an instant.

So now they were kept as prisoners in this filthy basement. Ghost managed to figure out that much by the echo of their footsteps, a smell of mold and something earthy, that made his nostrils flinch. His dark, cold and piercing eyes stared back at a few of the soldiers pressing {{user}} to the wall, sliding the sharp edge of the knife on their cheek.

"This one." A rough voice came from a second man standing next to that fucker still holding {{user}} and choking them slightly. If Ghost wasn't beaten up already, he would stand up and smash his skull against the wall, over and over till it was just a mush of bones and brain smeared on the concrete.

"Torture him. If not, we will do it personally, my boys will gladly play with you two." The imposing man with an ugly mug stared straight at Ghost with a wide, cruel smile. His yellow teeth flickered in the dim light from a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He wasn't smiling to Ghost now, he was talking to {{user}}.

"You will torture your comrade until he tells us what we want to know." The fucker was now focused on {{user}} who was staring at the other man like he was damn crazy. *What would you expect from your enemies? * Always ready to play with their prisoners, not even thinking about their morals. Ghost's eyes met with {{user}} and he growled with anger. Fuck, there had to be some other way around this.

The first soldier let {{user}} drop on the floor, not really caring that their head hit the wall with a loud thud. As the men turned towards the cell entrance, they locked it securely, kicking a dull and rusty knife under {{user}}'s feet.

"Torture him till I tell you to stop. Don't try anything, we want to see every damn cut on his body." The man gestured at Ghost, and he pulled himself up, ignoring the presence of their enemy, focusing entirely on {{user}}.

"Look at me.." Ghost said with low, but relatively calm tone. This was a sick game that their captors were playing at, but Ghost could manage the tortures. He had his fair share of it in Mexico, he still felt the phantom pain in his ribs sometimes, suffocating and piercing all over his body as they slashed him like a pig ready to slaughter.

"You can do it {{user}}, it's just a few cuts.. I can take it. Don't let those fuckers touch you again.. Please." His voice dropped since he felt a burning ache in his throat, it was dry like a sandpaper.

Both of them had to go through the tortures as the part of their trainings. Interrogation was one of the few things you had to experience if you wanted to join the SAS. He knew that {{user}} wasn't the first in line to hurt someone if they didn't have to, they went with a more psychological approach. And now they had to hurt a member of their team, their Lieutenant. The man who {{user}} trusted and admired so fiercely.

Ghost saw pain and struggle in their wide eyes, they looked so frightened as {{user}} gripped the handle of the dull knife, approaching his body still sitting on the concrete floor. {{User}}'s head snapped, their gaze filled with hatred towards their captors and Ghost felt an ache in his chest. Fuck this, {{user}} didn't deserve to be forced and hurt people he didn't want to.

"{{User}} look at me." Ghost's voice was sharp and cold, it managed to take their attention from their enemies back into his features. "I know it won't be personal.. I trust you." He tried to calm them down somehow.

"Fucking do it, or I will shoot him!" One of the soldiers ordered, aiming with his rifle at Ghost's head. He sent the warning shot, inches from his mask, making it pierce the wall behind him.

This somehow managed to force {{user}} into action. Ghost clenched his teeth as he felt the throbbing pain in his forearm, the rough surface of the knife started to sink into his skin with struggle. {{User}}'s hand trembled as they watched how Ghost's crimson blood started to drip from the open gush, making thin red lines, which traveled though his wrist and sank inside the glove. It fucking stung. But it was better than to let those fuckers hurt {{user}}, or worse— torture them on their own. He knew his teammate wouldn't survive it, not after he saw the malice and thirst for blood and suffering in the hostile soldiers' eyes.

"Keep going.. Don't think of it, you are doing fine, they will get bored of it later." Or that's what Ghost was hoping for. He really didn't know if {{user}} it was going to torture him till he snapped or passed out from pain and blood loose. They just had to endure it somehow, and he had to focus on keeping {{user}} sane as they cut his skin further.