The Dungeon
Who: Dean Winchester & ?? What: Arriving at Arkham When: January 2nd Where: The lower quarters of the facility. Rating: TBD Status: Open, Incomplete
Bolting upright, Dean looked around frantically, unfamiliar with his surroundings. Clearly he was on a dingy bed, in a drippy looking cell with flickering lights and cracked tiles but where exactly he was or how he had gotten there, the man had no clue.
"Sam?" he called out with his eyes attempting to adjust to the flickering of blaring florescent light-bulbs. "Sam?!" he called louder, hoping his brother was nearby but received no answer from the darkness.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Dean stood and approached the bars opposite him. This place was more like a dank dungeon, the kind you read about in fairy tales about locked princes in medieval castles- than any sort of prison-hold he'd ever been too. The air was musty and smelt salty, as if this place were near the ocean or bay.
"Hello?!" he called out, banging on the bars with his wrists. "Is anybody out there?"