Lucy Chen is in the army, mirroring Tim Bradford's experience

The captivity

A dull, throbbing pain greeted Lucy Chen as consciousness returned. She blinked slowly, her vision swimming in and out of focus, the world around her blurred and distorted. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, dirt, and something metallic—blood, maybe hers, maybe someone else's. The pounding in her skull made it difficult to think, but gradually, the memories came rushing back—the ambush, the gunfire, the fall.

She wasn't on the battlefield anymore. No, this was different. The cold, hard ground beneath her was uneven and rough, a far cry from the shifting desert sands. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back, wrists aching from the rope that cut into her skin. She shifted, trying to sit up, but her body screamed in protest, every muscle sore, every joint stiff.

The room was dimly lit, a single flickering bulb casting long shadows across the cracked walls. There were no windows, no source of natural light, just the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the place. She didn't need to see her surroundings clearly to know where she was. Prison. Captured.

Panic surged through her, sharp and sudden. She had to get out—had to find her team, had to escape before they... Before they started.

She heard a low groan beside her and turned her head with great effort, her muscles straining. Private Evans lay a few feet away, slumped against the wall. His face was bruised and swollen, blood smeared across his temple. He was unconscious, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Relief and dread washed over Lucy in equal measure. At least he was still alive, but how long would that last?

"Evans," she croaked, her throat dry and raw. She tried again, louder this time. "Evans, wake up!"

He stirred slightly but didn't wake. Lucy gritted her teeth, frustration mingling with fear. There was no telling how much time had passed since the ambush. Hours? Days? She had no idea where they were being held, or who had them. All she knew was that they were in deep enemy territory, far from any help.

A creak from somewhere beyond the heavy metal door snapped her to attention, her senses going into overdrive despite the pain. Her breath hitched as the door swung open with a groan, and two figures stepped inside. The first was a tall man with a rifle slung over his shoulder, his expression cold and indifferent. The second was shorter, stockier, and carried a sense of authority in the way he walked, his boots clicking against the concrete floor.

Lucy's heart pounded in her chest as they approached. Her instincts screamed at her to fight, but she was bound and weakened, barely able to move. All she could do was glare at them, trying to mask the fear that gnawed at her insides.

The shorter man crouched down in front of her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. He didn't speak at first, just studied her like one might examine an animal caught in a trap. After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence.

"Sergeant Lucy Chen," he said, his voice thick with an accent she couldn't place. "We've been waiting for you."

Lucy's blood ran cold, but she kept her expression as neutral as she could manage. How did they know her name? How much more did they know?

"Let's skip the formalities, shall we?" the man continued, his smile thin and humorless. "You know what we want."

Lucy's heart raced, but she said nothing, her jaw clenched tight. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of a response. Information was the only thing keeping her and her team alive, and she wouldn't hand it over—not now, not ever.

The man's smile faltered slightly, but he didn't seem surprised by her silence. He rose to his feet and nodded to the other man, who stepped forward, his expression as cold as ever. Without warning, the butt of his rifle came crashing down into Lucy's side, sending a jolt of white-hot pain ripping through her torso.

She gasped, her body convulsing as the air was knocked from her lungs. The pain was excruciating, her already bruised ribs screaming in agony. Still, she bit down on her lip, refusing to cry out, refusing to give them anything.

"Resistant. I expected as much," the shorter man mused, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you will talk. They always do."

He crouched down again, leaning in closer, his breath hot against her face. "You're going to tell us everything you know about your mission. Every last detail."

Lucy met his gaze, her vision blurred from the pain, but her resolve remained unbroken. She knew the rules of capture: give nothing, say nothing, resist at all costs. And that's exactly what she would do. Even if it killed her.

"I have nothing to say to you," she rasped, her voice barely audible.

The man's smile returned, this time with an edge of cruelty. "Oh, I think you'll change your mind soon enough."

He stood again and nodded to the guard, who raised his rifle for another blow. Lucy braced herself for the impact, but before it came, the door swung open again, and another figure entered the room.

This one was different. He wore a uniform that marked him as someone of higher rank, and the way the other two men straightened at his presence confirmed it. His gaze swept the room, landing on Lucy, and for a brief moment, she saw something in his eyes—recognition? Interest? She wasn't sure, but it unsettled her.

"Enough," the new man said, his voice calm but commanding. "We don't want her dead. Yet."

Lucy's body trembled with relief, though she knew this reprieve was temporary. They weren't finished with her, not by a long shot.

The ranking officer approached her, standing over her with an air of authority. "You will talk, Sergeant Chen. It's only a matter of time. We have ways of making even the strongest soldiers break."

Lucy glared up at him, her breathing labored. She would die before she betrayed her country, before she gave them what they wanted. But deep down, a sliver of doubt crept into her mind. How long could she last under their torture? How long before her body gave out?

As if sensing her thoughts, the officer smiled coldly. "Take her back to her cell. Let her think about her situation. We'll resume this conversation tomorrow."

With that, the guards hauled Lucy to her feet, her body screaming in protest as they dragged her out of the room. She didn't know how long she could hold out, but she wasn't going to give up. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance, however slim, of escape.