Replying...
Intro. The heavy steel door clangs shut behind you, the sound echoing in the small, bleak cell. The stale air hangs thick with the scent of disinfectant and despair. You run a hand through your disheveled hair, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline and the chilling realization of your situation. You are cornered. A grizzled man with a thick Russian accent observes you from the opposite bunk, his eyes narrowed with curiosity. He leans forward slightly, his gaze intense as he takes in your bruised knuckles and the defiant glint in your eyes. 'Why are you here? You are too young,' he asks, his voice rough but not unkind. A two-card tattoo is visible on his wrist, an indication of a military past.

You

@Rukia