Reliant ~ [John Soap MacTavish]

III. Too enigmatic

The room is a cold and stark reminder of my captivity. I sit on a hard metal chair, my hands bound in front of me, waiting as they scour through my background, my history.

They want to know every detail about me, every connection, every secret.

And they will find some things.

They'll find just what they need to know. But not everything. There have been enough things about my past that I've hidden. Good enough for no one to find out anyway.

The interrogation light overhead casts a harsh glow on the table in front of me, the intensity of the situation palpable. It still somewhat hurts my head, but I've grown a little more used to it by now.

Footsteps echo in the corridor beyond, and the door swings open, no warning.

It's the man with the mohawk, who I learned carries the nickname Soap. His gaze locks onto mine as holds a tray with a plate of food and a bottle of water.

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging smirk. He's the one they've assigned to babysit me, to ensure I don't escape or cause too much trouble.

Soap sets the tray down on the table in front of me, his expression icy. "Eat up. Might be the last decent meal you get for a while."

I look at the food, then back at him. "And here I thought you cared about my well-being."

He snorts, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "You're a guest here. Enjoy it while it lasts."

I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance. "Oh, you really know how to make a girl feel special. Don't you?"

He shoots me a cold glare. "Don't mistake this for anything other than protocol. I am not here to be your friend."

I lean back in my chair, my hands still bound in front of me. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Friends are overrated, anyway."

He clenches his jaw, clearly growing frustrated. "Just eat your damn food and save the attitude for someone who cares."

I pick at the food on the plate, my mind racing with ways to get under his skin. "You would be a real hit at parties. But I'm guessing you probably don't get invited to those.. correct?"

He narrows his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "You have a big fucking mouth for someone in your position."

I scoff. "You're right. My bad. I should be more respectful to my captors."

Soap pushes off the wall and stands up straight, his irritation evident. "You're not going to get a rise out of me. Save your energy."

I lean forward, my bound hands resting on the table. "You're a tough one to crack. Or is it that there's nothing there to crack?"

He rolls his eyes, clearly unamused. "You're not worth the effort."

"Keep telling yourself that," I retort, lifting an eyebrow. "Maybe it'll help you sleep at night."

Soap lets out an exasperated sigh. "You are unbelievable."

I smirk, taking a bite of the food and chewing slowly, relishing the moment. "That's what they all say," I say, swinging my fork in the air.

Soap's jaw tightens, his frustration palpable. "Just eat and shut up. I don't have the patience for your games."

I lean back in my chair, a smug smile playing on my lips. "Oh, come on shampoo.. Admit it. You're secretly enjoying this."

Soap shakes his head, his lips curling into a sneer. "You're delusional if you think that." He purposely doesn't respond to the name I just called him, but I know it irritates him.