Sebastian Krueger

132 days.

That's how long it had been since {{user}} was captured by the enemy. They had ambushed the convoy, taken {{user}} by surprise, and within minutes, {{user}} was blindfolded, tossed into the back of a truck, shackled, and stripped of any means to escape. The days that followed were a blur of agony and darkness. Every time {{user}} regained consciousness, it was only to be greeted by fresh waves of pain.

The enemy wanted information—intel on Chimera, on operations that could turn the tides. But {{user}} never uttered a word. The silence was more than just defiance; it was a lifeline to the mission, to comrades who relied on Chimera's success. Every bruise, every cut, every burn seared into {{user}}'s skin was a testament to unyielding resolve.

But the days stretched on, and the torture grew more brutal. They broke bones, twisted limbs, and burned flesh. They pushed {{user}} to the very brink, hoping to shatter that indomitable will. Yet, even when the pain became unbearable, the world dissolved into a haze of suffering, there was no surrender.

Time lost meaning in that hellish cell. {{user}} could no longer distinguish day from night, awake from asleep. The darkness became an ever-present companion, and the only constants were the cold steel of the chains and the excruciating torment inflicted upon {{user}}. The enemy wanted {{user}} to break, to beg for mercy, but all they got was silence.

But in the 132nd day, something changed. {{user}} was hanging there, barely conscious, when distant sounds started to pierce the oppressive silence. At first, it was hard to tell if it was real or just another hallucination—voices, gunfire, explosions. But as the noise grew louder, more distinct, {{user}} realized it was a battle, and it was close.

The door to the cell burst open, the heavy metal clanging fell to the ground. A figure, armed and covered in dust and blood, stumbled inside, eyes scanning the room frantically. When Krueger’s gaze fell on {{user}} time seemed to freeze.

Hanging from the ceiling by cruelly tightened chains, was someone Krueger barely recognized. The body was battered and broken, covered in a web of bruises, cuts, and burns. {{user}}clothes, once part of a uniform, were now little more than bloodied, tattered rags. He barely looked human.