Devil's Lab

[Carthrat]

Sight comes slowly to Cosgrove, as he awakes. His side and shoulder still ache from his earlier wounds, but the intense, slicing pain isn't there anymore. He feels sore all over, really.

White fills up his vision, and he feels a hard bed on his back. He can't see clearly yet, but it looks as though he's in a white-walled cell..

[Dracos]

Cosgrove groans, looking over himself first and reflexively reaching with a hand towards where his swords should be.

Dracos

[Carthrat]

They're not there. In fact, none of your normal stuff is. You're dressed up all in white, and you've got no equipment, no anything.

[Dracos]

"Right..."  Cosgrove, stunningly, doesn't swear, standing up and looking around, listening closely as he stretches carefully getting an idea of how well patched up he's been.

Dracos

[Carthrat]

Your shoulder has been bandaged up, but the wound in your side is stiched and bandaged. It creates a shooting pain if you try to turn sharply or put lots of pressure on it, but looks to be essentially ok. There's no seepege through the bandages.

All in all, you really just feel tired and sore.

[Dracos]

Cosgrove looks around the room, checking to see briefly if he's locked in before deciding to go with his gut and rest, letting his body recover and the goon squad make the next move.

Dracos

[Carthrat]

Of course the door is locked, with a fairly solid, metallic lock, too. It's pretty shiny, from what you can see.

Rest calls, however, and soon, Cosgrove is back to sleep...

<->

...and later woken up by the abrupt sound of the door opening.

[Dracos]

Cosgrove sits up, examining whoevers coming through the door.

Dracos

[Carthrat]

There's a couple of guys; on the right, a military officer of some high rank, standing about 6' tall with an imposing presence, and a handgun at his side. He's wearing a beret, but it doesn't look like he has any hair.

The other guy is more of a scientist; decked out in white pants, shirt, coat. He's carrying a small clipboard, and is wearing a pair of steel-rimmed glasses.

"Mr. Cromdale. Good to you awake," says the scientist, nodding at you.

[Dracos]

"I'd like to say the same but I'm a touch sore from the troop who, guessing from these environments, was sent to bring me in.  Any chance you feel like filling a confused Cromdale in on what exactly is going on and why a half dozen gun men were sent to interrupt my country hiking in a violent manner?"

Dracos

[Carthrat]

"No, not really," says the scientist. "We're more interested in where you got your sword."

[Dracos]

"Which one?" Cosgrove responded.

Dracos

[Carthrat]

"The smaller one," replies the scientist, nodding.

[Dracos]

"Was a birthday present from my father on my twentieth.  Don't know exactly where he picked it up, but it serves me quite well."  Cosgrove answered with a slightly raised eyebrow at the whole deal.

Dracos

[Carthrat]

"Interesting. So you know nothing about where it really came from? We'll be keeping it, then. In fact, we'll keep your other sword, too, and we'll be keeping you here indefinately. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

The military man produces a pair of handcuffs and waits expectantly.