The world spun back into focus, slowly but surely, on his new surroundings. He was laid on a cot somewhere dark and dank...
And dreadfully monochrome.
His head exploded as he attempted to hoist himself up. Apparently the ghost's attack had done far more damage than he had expected. Through the intense throbbing, he could make out the faint light that shown in from the bars of his new home. Instictively, he felt at his neck. Indeed, it appeared he had also been outfitted with a psychic dampening collar, though he found it strange they had chosen not to remove his mask.
"I suppose there actually is honor among thieves from time to time," he chortled. Still, this situation was quite precarious indeed. He knew that his associates would likely not be after him, so he was alone in this endeavor. Any attempt to escape would not be simple he knew.
But was anything ever that easy?
He lay back down on his single cot, nursing his headache with a hand, thinking.
