Merinthophobia: My muse finds yours tied or chained up. (From Fiona)
God, how the hell did Tim get here?? He’s been so careful thus far, how could this one little thing have gone so awry?? Dammit, he knew he shouldn’t have taken on that sketchy little mission he found at some random bounty board. He remembered coming to the coordinates to meet with his supposed ‘client’ at which point something hit him hard on the back of the head and next thing he knew he was chained up to some post and left to rot.
Thankfully, if he could be thankful, the perpetrator seemed to have only taken his money and basic supplies and guns, leaving his mask in place and his digi-tech alone. But, uh, y'know, still chained up and unable to escape at who-the-fuck-knows-where and probably definitely going to die.
Or maybe not..
The sound of crunching rubble had Tim perking up from his miserable footsie with a small rock and spotting a woman approaching; there was no way she was a bandit. “Hoooly crap, no way,” he muttered in disbelief to himself before a sort of excited hope overcame him and he squirmed to sit up properly as he hoarsely shouted to her, “Hey—Hey, hat lady! Can ya help me out a little?"
