A Whateley Universe/ Loose Cannons Story
VEGAS, BABY, VEGAS!
Bek D Corbin
DATE: Damn Good Question
I snapped to full awakening again. Not a good sign.
I got up and looked around. It was not comforting, not in the least. It wasn’t the hotel room this time. Or the practice yard. Or even that stupid greenhouse back in Sacramento. The only word that fit the chamber I was in was ‘Cell’. It was your basic 10x10 poured concrete box. The bed was an oversized sponge of temper foam on a concrete slab. There was a dingy metal basin and toilet stuck into the wall. There was a pipe that ran the length of the room, just below the ceiling, with a hangar on it that suggested that that was the closest thing to storage space. No TV, no window, nothing to sit on but the toilet or the bed. The door was a handle-less slab of metal inset to the concrete wall. There was nothing that suggested any level of comfort, or any privacy, or any weakness. Nothing softened the inescapable fact that I was stuck in a poured concrete box.