Conditioned To Kill - Far Cry 5

THE RESCUE

PART 1

THE RESCUE

         Cecelia's eye filled with uncertainty as they squinted at her surroundings; extremely dim room with nothing except the fresh aroma of decaying corpses. However music echoed around her weak body, constantly on repeat. She could have sworn it had been repeating its tune for days on end. Her limbs lifelessly dangled as her strapped up body become numb inside the chair, which was turned sideways, her head lay so weakly against the floor. Too much strength was needed for her to lift her head up.

She'd been awoken from a dangerous slumber by people investigating the room that she was wrongly placed in. Her mind was fuzzy and memories were scattered when it came to trying to remember all the events leading up to this one. She prayed to all the Gods that they were here to rescue her but she was in deny. What if it wasn't a rescue? What if they were here to kill her? Her hazel eyes were blinking several times to clear her vision as the lustreless room grew darker and the music grew louder.

"What a mess. Wheaty, check those chairs," A stranger's voice echoed in her mind. She couldn't tell if it was from the real world.

It kept echoing in her mind until become a disorientated company of words. She questioned herself who was Wheaty. Who was he? -the rescue or the killer? A sombre thought creeped into her head. What if they left her to die in that room? As weak as she was, her worrying distinctly caused her to drift more to into reality than the dreamworld and she couldn't rub them awake which made her vision somewhat a blurred painting.

"God, it smells." Another stranger said, a different one to the stranger that had previously spoken.

"Been stewin' in their own filth for day. Walker. Get some windows open!" His voice was familiar as Cecelia listened and endeavour the voices separately. But she didn't who Walker was -another stranger.

"Y-y-y-yes sir," She guessed that Walker was the one with the stutter.

"Someone shut that awful music off!" That was the one giving all the orders. He had a distinctive voice that rough and he sounded older than the one with the stutter and the younger one, who Cecelia believed to be called Wheaty.

Cecelia glanced, blinking indesposibly as the three -or more- men all investigated the corpses in the room.

Following further awakeness, the weak girl question how long she'd been sat in this chair.It was uncomfortable considering she'd been trapped there for a few days. Ropes bound her arms and legs to the chair, preventing her escape from the chair. As she began to focus on her limbs, she was uncertain if moving them to the rope capacity would get the men's attention, or if it would feel comforting that she could move again.

A sharp and searing pain spiral around her the side of her thigh. Confuddling thoughts consumed her mind on why it ache again, she knew if she looked down at her thigh it would make things painfully worse for her. It felt wet and she didn't want to conclude that she was bleeding because it would have led to panicking explosion of a tender aftermath. She didn't know it then but Cecelia had hurt her leg before she was put in that room and she didn't know how it got there but a single strip of bandage was tied over her jeggings.

There was a body in front her -a dead body. He appeared to already be rotting to the core. But the boy whom the leader called 'Wheaty' was checking if he was alive.

"Christ..." His voice empathized the dead corpse as if he knew him, "it's Ronnie. When they get him as well? This is pointless Eli! They're probably all dead."