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Summary
He strained against the ropes that held him steadfastly to the ruins of the little wooden shack as his head cleared and his memories came rushing back.
“Good morning, sunshine.” His captor’s face was obscured by shadows, Spy could only see the light glinting off of a blade in the dark. “’ave a nice rest?” The feigned worry made him fume; had he not been gagged with some sort of rag he would have expressed his annoyance.
He should never have let his guard down, especially not around that disgusting bushman. Now he was in an all-to-venerable position against the crumbling wall, wrists bound to a solid post above him and legs splayed out and secured below him, leaving him helpless to whatever torture the Sniper had planned for him.