Prologue: Captured

Darkness.

Fear … an uneasy feeling that he's not where he's supposed to be.

An intermittent sensation of floating, occasionally fading and being replaced with a feeling of restraint.

And voices.

"…oo bad … …e's kinda cute."

"Be ser…s, Lilah."

"… am … not that it m...ers."

"Are w… even sure … …s him?"

"… fits th… description."

He feels his skin crawl as a delicate touch tickles his collarbone. A hand grabs his shirt collar and pushes it to the side, exposing the upper-right side of his chest.

"…ee? 21121—he's our g…, …right. Hen… T…end"

Did she just say my name? How do they know …?

He tries to somehow force himself to open his eyes and regain full consciousness. He pushes against the restraints holding him, but it does nothing—even without the restraints, he'd barely be able to move. It almost feels as if he's stuck in quicksand.

"H…s …lso waking up."

"Don't w…, he'll b… in h…s cell long bef… the tranquilizers w… …ff."

What the hell …?