As we all walk through the pubs automatic doorway, I notice that they are different to the ones back in the land of the living.
Security is everywhere. Not people, but automated turrets which kind of makes me nervous. And the bars serving table is behind a three-inch thick bulletproof glass, but I guess it makes sense . Other than that it is a normal bar.
"Hey, let's go and sit over there." I say, pointing to the metal table in the corner which appears to hold less bullet holes.
"What do you want." Peter asks while looking at the menu attached to the wall.
I wait until the end giving me time to consider what I want.
"Oh, I'll just have a pint of shandy." I say hoping it still exists as it isn't on the board.
Peter walk off to buy our drinks while the rest of us head over to the seats I suggested.
While waiting for the drinks to arrive, I decide to learn more about these two unknown people sitting to my left. But, before I can introduce myself, Tracy interrupts.
Laughter can be heard around the bar as Peter finally returns with the drinks, placing them into the middle of the table. We all say thanks and carry on talking within the group. As we all sit in the corner chair, time appears to speed up until the bar is almost empty. I begin to get up in a drunken state; exactly what was in that one glass of shandy is unknown to me.
"Sss-ee, yy-oo-uu, guys, I'mm, going home."
I concentrate really hard, trying to keep balance as I walk towards the entrance.
"One step, two steps, three steps, and I'm closer to the door," I mumble to myself.
"Arrrrrrggh!" I scream.
I open my eyes to discover myself flat on the ground being laughed at by happy drinkers including my team.
I look down, lifting up my hands so I can see why a warm, moist sensation surrounds them.
wrapped around my hands is a thick red and yellow gooey substance which consciously I would call sick but unable to control myself...
"Porridge with jam." I say while licking my fingers clean.
"Errrghhh, that's not porridge."
I sit there with a sickly feeling in my stomach, and look back at my team. They're are sitting with their faces flat against the metallic table, either dead from their mass laughter or asleep.
I look around the room in a slight panic; and see a dark shadowed figure standing in the doorway, my sight begins getting blurry, well blurrier.
My eyes get harder to keep open and within seconds I close them, and collapse to the ground splashing my forehead into the puddle of sick.
I awake with a smashing headache which I assume is because I drank too much. Which is hard to believe because I only bought one shandy.
I flicker my eyes open and find myself in a smallish stone walled room. So I quickly ascend to my feet knowing that I had basic knowledge punishment today. As I rise I tug a iron chain attached to my right arm which drags be back towards a hard concrete floor.
As a sharp pain spreads though my back, making me let out a pain stricken scream.
Everything is clearer now that I'm in pain, I'm wider awake to the truth. I didn't get drunk off of one on pint of badly made shandy, I feel crazy just thinking it, It's obvious that I was drugged.
I gaze around the room and notice suprising things that I somehow hadn't already noticed. Above me is a spiked ceiling with a set of gears going down each corner of the room, the rest of my team are also chained up to the walls; there is also a large grate in the middle of the room.
