| Victor_Mallix | Date: Tuesday, 19 Mar 2013, 11:42 AM | Message # 1 |
 Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 44
Status: Offline
| Some days later at an undisclosed location beneath the surface (encrypted e1z79 to verify, key lodged with management).
Alyn Stark would have spent several days in a heavily overdose of dissociated disconnection from reality, its perfectly possible that with the drug having cut him off from all his senses that he might well have come to believe they'd transplanted his brain. If he reached down to his left leg, he would find it simply not there, having been removed above the knee. The right leg amputated above the foot. The blaster wounds would have been dressed too, but nothing so elegant as bacta would've been permitted him, inside he would feel distinctly in pain if he moved as they'd made no effort to do anything more than prevent the internal injuries becoming fatal, they'd still have to heal naturally on their own. A number of his fingers were missing also, not having been reattached.
A dose of hypnocane was pumping around his veins, along with a little Haloperidol, rendering him slightly somnolent and suffering from minor anticholenergic effects. If he reached to his chest he would find a small metal box protruding from one side, any attempt to pull it out revealing it to be screwed firmly into his rib cage, this was the autoinjector fitted so he could be medicated as his captors wished. Blinking and looking around the room he would find himself on a bed that was an alcove carved into the cool damp rock wall, on which a slightly soiled straw mattress and filthy blankets lay.
In the tomblike space, he would see some flickering dim glowlamp lights through a tattered thin curtain concealing his boxlike room from the larger one beyond. If he focused his eyes strongly enough he would be able to see two humanoid figures sitting at a table talking quietly, in what looked like a larger stone room which had some steps behind the table and a durasteel blast door beyond. Was this another hallucination brought on by total and utter sensory deprivation in the darkness of his mind? Only time would tell the answer.
A wood and metal wheelchair sat to one side of his rock based bed, in theory allowing him to perambulate about these catacombs once he had the strength to wheel himself along.
Victor Mallix
Merchant Venturer
Ex-Banking Clan Executive
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