When he came to he was naked and standing under a dim light with his hands secured above his head. The rest of the room, outside the small circle of light, was dark. Pitch black.
“Michael Quinn.”
He was feeling groggy from the after effects of whatever drug they had given him so he wasn’t entirely sure the voice was even real.
“Michael Quinn.”
The voice was deep and authoritative.
Michael searched the blackness for its owner, who materialized in the hazy half-light at the edge of the darkness.
The Man was wearing the uniform of a Black Guard, although his head was bare and his face clearly visible. He had handsome features—a straight nose, full lips, and prominent cheek bones. His hair was dark, extremely short at the sides with a longer fringe. Michael was having trouble focusing, e
