“RACHEL!” Mark woke with a sharp pain in his body. It was in his...stomach. He felt pain in his stomach, but there was also pain elsewhere. He moved his hands around, grabbing various parts of his body, his eyes shut tight. There was pain everywhere. His arms, hands, feet, stomach, cheeks, neck, ribs. Little by little, small sharp pains were making themselves apparent all over his body. He made a grunting noise as he tried to figure out what was wrong with him and, more importantly, where Rachel was. “Ack...R-Rachel...Rachel...Rachel, are you here? Are you close?!”

“Stick him.” came a deep-toned voice from the side. Mark didn't recognize the voice. It wasn't anything he'd ever heard in the shelter or among people he'd seen above ground. Before he had a chance to ask the voice whom or what it was, he felt something stabbing his left arm. His mouth opened and he let out a terror-stricken scream as he felt a surge of pain entering his body. It went everywhere, pushing him further and further through this agony. He could feel his body quivering and falling to the side. He was on some sort of hard floor, but the pain was putting too much pressure on his body. He hadn't the strength to open his eyes.

His body was going through a lot right now. He didn't even know how to explain all of it. He was clearly being tortured by someone. The question was, by who and for what purpose? Those questions were ringing and ringing through his head, endlessly, behind the pain. He didn't have time to think, though. By the time the pain he felt was subsiding, he felt something stab his other arm, and the pain started again. It was completely agonizing and all he could do was scream out in pain. It felt like there were needles stabbing his every pore, both on the inside and outside. The voice hadn't said a word since this started. Who was doing this to him, and where was Rachel?

By the time the pain subsided from this second “stick”, another one did not come, thankfully. His body felt incredibly sore from all of this pain and, despite still being in a lot of pain, feeling the slightest amount of it leaving him was a blessing. He hadn't grown up, trained to deal with torture. He was just a normal kid, who just happened to get thrown into this sad, decaying world. Now, years later, he was someplace else, most likely due to his heroic efforts to save Rachel from the surface world. He heard footsteps as the pain subsided a little more, finally hearing the voice again, saying more than two words this time.

“He'll live. Take him to Cell Block A-5.” The voice sounded so assertive and lacked compassion, completely. Mark didn't know what was going on, still with a lack of energy in his system. He had some senses available to him, though. Where the pain was still at, he felt hands grabbing onto his arms. Within moments, he felt his body moving backwards. His feet were being dragged against the floor of wherever he was. It was hard to concentrate enough to think, but he was trying as hard as he could. For an entire 20 minutes or so, he thought and tried to figure out where he was.

The answers never came to him, though. Before he could gain back enough energy, he felt a rustle of noise. Mumbling was coming from everywhere, and following that was some loud, electronic sound, almost like a sonic boom. It hurt his ears, but he couldn't move his arms to cover his ears. They rang until he heard another voice, also deep, but not the same as before. “Quiet, all of you! The warden and Her Reverence do not spend the time to visit and maintain this prison so you can mumble to your heart's content. We will have order. You will all back away from the doors while we put this prisoner in his cell, or we will hasten the execution schedule!”

The shuffling of dozens of feet could be heard, where those voices once were. Mark's arms just started to shake at processing what the man dragging him had just said, though. His situation was getting clearer and clearer, as the pain got softer and softer. He was in some sort of prison. Had he and Rachel been caught and taken somewhere? He wasn't sure. His memory seemed fuzzy, at that point. He had blankets of memories. He remembered his life in the shelter, and he remembered trying to bring Rachel back to it. But, when he tried to think about anything else, his mind came up blank. Who was this “Her Reverence”? Where was this prison? Why had he been brought here?

A loud, metallic sound occurred, which he assumed was some sort of door to a prison cell. He was a prisoner, or so he thought, and he felt his body move. Wind pushed against his face and he felt a hard surface hitting his face, along with the rest of his body. The metallic sound happened again, and footsteps seemed to happen and get further away. “Just another runaway, right?” said the voice he'd heard a moment ago. “Pfft, you kidding?” started another. “The new two prisoners are supposedly from the WF. She wants him for questioning. Why else would we torture someone, rather than just killing them? I tell ya, these crazies should...”

The conversation was lost as the voices disappeared. Finally having the energy to open his eyes, Mark wanted to see where he was. He let out a soft, painful moan and opened them up, expecting to find some gloomy, metallic prison. He gasped as soon as he opened his eyes, though. He went from seeing nothing but darkness to seeing more darkness. He couldn't see any light, shadows, shapes, or anything. “W-W-What?! What is this?!” he called out, only to hear small footsteps coming closer to him. He felt something touching his side, a hand, but not nearly as strong as the one before.

“You're blind, hon.” said an older, female voice. The hand moved down his arm and up to his face. “You'll get your sight back when you meet...her. Assuming, of course, she doesn't kill you first.” Whoever this “her” person was, definitely wasn't a nice one. Mark gulped as his arms started to shake again, fearing for what he had now gotten himself into...