The sun hung low in the sky that day over Atlantis. The city usually filled with such life and noise was now, for the first time in four years silent. Everything seemed dead and for Rodney McKay's sake he wished that were true.
Deep beneath the water level of the city, in a much darker part of the city, Rodney laid on the cold hard floor. For months now he and what was left of the cities previous occupants, had been tortured. And just when they thought they could take no more and they were spent, they would be cast aside and left to rot until such a time when their new masters would require their services once again.
The door swung open, a brilliant white light streaming through, and like a pack of scared animals, everyone in the room scampered to the edges of the room. A slender figure stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind its back, casting an ominous shadow. "Rodney McKay." The figure stated sharply and without emotion.
Looking up at the doorway, Rodney nodded weakly and gulped down hard, brushing the dirt from his face. Getting to his feet he heard the murmurs, the whispers in the dark. Some wished for his safe return while others were just plain relieved to not have been picked.
Approaching the door, he raised his head, a hint of pride in his step. Pride was all he had now, and he'd made a promise to himself a long time ago that he'd keep that.
The closer he got to the doorway, the more his eyes burned, the light not a commodity down in 'The Pit,' or so everyone called it. That was all it was, a small room with no excess light and one exit which lead only to pain and suffering.
Determined, Rodney saw this as a challenge, and without blinking he walked out of 'The Pit' barely taking a glance back. Pursing his lips together he turned his attention to the figure standing beside him, a young woman, maybe in her early thirties. A smirk spread across her face and she slammed the door shut behind him, motioning down the long corridor.