Jonathon Patches
Information Broker
Drip... drip... drip...
Eyes slowly opened at the steady sound of water making a break for it, only to take the lonely plunge into a puddle somewhere off into the darkness. A beam of faint light shone through a tiny grated window up above, casting more shadows than actual light into the cell.
Well isn't this just perfect, he mused to himself, his eyes slowly adjusting to what little light the cell provided. It's design was antiquated - he couldn't remember the last time he had seen iron bars with a simple lock and key - but it was effective for the time being.
The floor upon which his rear was currently parked was cold and slightly damp. The air was a little musty, which between that and the incessant dripping water led him to believe he was below ground. His right hand rubbed his brow, and discovered dried blood in it's crusty, brown form.
A quick examination of the blood told him it was at least twelve hours old, and gave him some what of a time line; though it wasn't much to go on. In fact, he was a bit hazy on most of the details that pertained to the past twenty four hours. Most importantly, how exactly he got here.
A figure stirred in the cell next to him, though his eyes had not quite adjusted to the dim light yet.
He tried to muster a "Hey," but it came out rather hoarse and quiet, indicating he had not had anything to drink for quite some time... at least not of the non-alcoholic variety. Clearing his throat, he tried again.
"Hey," he said to the cell next to him, as he added no knowing whom was on the other side, "have you figured out an escape plan yet?"
Eyes slowly opened at the steady sound of water making a break for it, only to take the lonely plunge into a puddle somewhere off into the darkness. A beam of faint light shone through a tiny grated window up above, casting more shadows than actual light into the cell.
Well isn't this just perfect, he mused to himself, his eyes slowly adjusting to what little light the cell provided. It's design was antiquated - he couldn't remember the last time he had seen iron bars with a simple lock and key - but it was effective for the time being.
The floor upon which his rear was currently parked was cold and slightly damp. The air was a little musty, which between that and the incessant dripping water led him to believe he was below ground. His right hand rubbed his brow, and discovered dried blood in it's crusty, brown form.
A quick examination of the blood told him it was at least twelve hours old, and gave him some what of a time line; though it wasn't much to go on. In fact, he was a bit hazy on most of the details that pertained to the past twenty four hours. Most importantly, how exactly he got here.
A figure stirred in the cell next to him, though his eyes had not quite adjusted to the dim light yet.
He tried to muster a "Hey," but it came out rather hoarse and quiet, indicating he had not had anything to drink for quite some time... at least not of the non-alcoholic variety. Clearing his throat, he tried again.
"Hey," he said to the cell next to him, as he added no knowing whom was on the other side, "have you figured out an escape plan yet?"