[he wakes slowly to the sound of waves and the smell of gunpowder in the humid air, which feels familiar, like home--]
[--until he realizes he has sand in his mouth, coughs, and spits it out, then spits again. disgusting. but not surprising, considering he's facedown on what feels like a beach, from the water lapping at his legs. something stings. he's probably got scrapes.]
[he opens his eyes slowly, assessing his situation and checking that his remaining limbs are in working order. it's not where he went to sleep. but it's also not an attempt on his life, unless his captors were the most piss-poor assassins the world has ever seen and routinely threw their targets on abandoned beaches. the only slightly plausible theory is that somehow he managed to fall off the base at night, not drown, and floated all the way to one of the Seychelles islands. which is beyond ridiculous. but there's no point making a theory without facts, so he looks up at the sky to try and guess where he might be by the position of the stars--]
[--it's cloudy. of course. and he's without his prosthetic leg. this situation just gets better and better. he glances around for some kind of driftwood, trying to work out the best way to get out of this situation, or at least improve it.]
1, night
[--until he realizes he has sand in his mouth, coughs, and spits it out, then spits again. disgusting. but not surprising, considering he's facedown on what feels like a beach, from the water lapping at his legs. something stings. he's probably got scrapes.]
[he opens his eyes slowly, assessing his situation and checking that his remaining limbs are in working order. it's not where he went to sleep. but it's also not an attempt on his life, unless his captors were the most piss-poor assassins the world has ever seen and routinely threw their targets on abandoned beaches. the only slightly plausible theory is that somehow he managed to fall off the base at night, not drown, and floated all the way to one of the Seychelles islands. which is beyond ridiculous. but there's no point making a theory without facts, so he looks up at the sky to try and guess where he might be by the position of the stars--]
[--it's cloudy. of course. and he's without his prosthetic leg. this situation just gets better and better. he glances around for some kind of driftwood, trying to work out the best way to get out of this situation, or at least improve it.]