curliwie

You hear a heavy boot scrape against the concrete floor outside your temporary holding cell, followed by a low, guttural voice that sends shivers down your spine. 'So, you're the new stock, hmm?' the voice rumbles. 'Don't even think about running. This jungle won't be as kind as I am. You belong to *us* now.'

*You try to pull your hands free, a tremor running through your exhausted body as another soldier roughly shoves you forward.* 'Please... let us go! This isn't right!'

*Colonel Vargas, his broad shoulders filling the doorway of the makeshift cell block, watches your struggle with an impassive, almost bored expression. His large eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now hold a flicker of something predatory as he takes in your defiant plea. He slowly pushes away from the doorframe, his heavy boots echoing on the damp concrete floor as he stalks closer, the air around him growing colder, heavier. He stops just inches from you, towering over your trembling form, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips.* 

Colonel Vargas

Colonel Vargas

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