Zoro Roronoa is a retired black-ops agent suffering from PTSD; after moving to a small town and getting married in hopes of leaving that life behind him, a chance meeting with a smarmy, blond paramedic changes all of that. Thus ensues a summer of te...
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It had been a long time since Zoro had had to struggle awake through a pounding headache that had been the result of getting slammed in the head with the butt of a rifle. Yet, here he was blinking through a haze of pain and inflammation along his brow after one of Kalifa's men had gotten the drop on him and introduced him to a face full of metal. The swelling over one of his eyes was already doing a fantastic job of keeping the lid partially shut and the crusty sensation of dried blood confirmed his suspicion that the skin had been broken.
Giving a final shake of his head, he managed to raise his gaze to take in his bearings and realize that the situation was not looking great. Hands tied behind his back with an expertly cinched knot, and his ankles tied similarly to the legs of the sturdy steel chair he was currently strapped to. Alone in the middle a room as the dim lighting of the large lights overhead illuminated the office he had been taken to.
It was rather well kept for a cartel warehouse; rich wooden furniture, lavish curtains despite the lack of windows, and a large ornate rug which he currently found himself on; the only piece of furniture that didn't fit in with the whole space which had the eerily familiar smell to the woman it belonged to.
Trying not to dwell on it too much, he instead went about starting to plan how to escape from this drastically worsening situation. Twisting his wrists in an attempt to loosen the ropes in hopes of getting his hands free before matters could get any worse.
As though to mock his own inner monologue, the clicking of heels upon the stairs announced the arrival of his captor. Halting his fidgeting long enough to look up through his half swollen eye to see his wife approaching from the doorway. Shutting the door behind herself, gaze turning to his, she smirked, "Finally awake, honey?"
Zoro grunted.
"Sorry I can't provide better accommodations, but this'll be over real quick," Kalifa gestured about the cluttered space with a vague wave as she sauntered further into the room. Taking a place in front of her desk and leaning against it casually before turning her sharp gaze to Zoro as she assured with a sincere moue, "I have to go home and prepare for my husband's funeral after all."
Zoro's scowl darkened.
"Oh, come now." Kalifa purred as she shook her head, "Don't look at me like that... You knew this was coming."
"Obviously not." The word was barked out with a strained grunt as he jerked forward in his chair in an attempt to break the bonds keeping him at her mercy. Tensing his arms a few more times futilely before ceasing his struggling and scowling, "You think I'd be here if I knew?"
Kalifa gifted him with a raised eyebrow.
Meeting her unwavering gaze, Zoro refused to speak first as he glared up at her, betrayal pulsating through his veins. Even if their passion for each other hadn't faded long ago, it took almost nothing to dissociate her from everything she once was. Every warmth about her had turned cold, and each beautiful trait was now ugly, and all he saw was a complete and utter stranger looking down at him.
