Post by Oliver on May 30, 2009 0:42:03 GMT -5
Sometime later, the door to Oliver's cell flies open and before Oliver can react to the disturbance, a pole with a 'U' shaped end pins him to the back of the cell wall around the neck as two guards rush him. A needles prick later, Oliver can feel the effects of that same cocktail from before begin swimming in his veins.
"'Ey! Get ye damn dir'y hands off me!" He yells before his vision fuzzes out and falls back, unable to resist further.
Two of the guards drag him out of the cell by his arms, while the third stays closed, armed with a gun. He's dragged through the corridor to a room near the cells. It's a cold, gray place that smells of dried blood and sweat and is thrown into a hard metal chair with restraints. A light is turned on and the door behind them closed and latched. He is restrained and another injection is given; like in rewind, the world shoots back to Oliver's recollection. He jumps at the guard, but the restraints hold fast.
"Gah, a'right. W'at ye want now? Check'in for cavities?"
A man, wearing a surgical mask and gloves sits on a stool beside him and on a tiny tray, a series of sinister metal instruments sit. Oliver sees this and his eyes grow big.
"W'oa, jus'kiddin. Don't need a den'ist, real'y!"
The man with the mask laughs lightly to himself as he looks over the instruments, picking each one up at a time and admiring it.
"So... is it safe?" Oliver chokes out, watching the tools of the trade brandished beside him.
"'Ey! Get ye damn dir'y hands off me!" He yells before his vision fuzzes out and falls back, unable to resist further.
Two of the guards drag him out of the cell by his arms, while the third stays closed, armed with a gun. He's dragged through the corridor to a room near the cells. It's a cold, gray place that smells of dried blood and sweat and is thrown into a hard metal chair with restraints. A light is turned on and the door behind them closed and latched. He is restrained and another injection is given; like in rewind, the world shoots back to Oliver's recollection. He jumps at the guard, but the restraints hold fast.
"Gah, a'right. W'at ye want now? Check'in for cavities?"
A man, wearing a surgical mask and gloves sits on a stool beside him and on a tiny tray, a series of sinister metal instruments sit. Oliver sees this and his eyes grow big.
"W'oa, jus'kiddin. Don't need a den'ist, real'y!"
The man with the mask laughs lightly to himself as he looks over the instruments, picking each one up at a time and admiring it.
"So... is it safe?" Oliver chokes out, watching the tools of the trade brandished beside him.