Gates regained consciousness with a groan, his body aching and his head pounding from the psychic assault. This was getting tiresome—twice in a row now, he thought. Getting kidnapped shouldn't be this frequent nor easy. He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim surroundings. This time, it seemed, he was in a much darker place than his last captor's choice.
He strained his eyes, attempting to make out the details of his surroundings. The room was cold and damp, the air thick with the smell of mildew and decay. The walls were made of rough stone, and there was a single, small window high up, letting in just enough light to cast eerie shadows across the floor. Chains rattled faintly in the darkness, suggesting the presence of others in similar predicaments.
