Shin guard

“Prepping you,” the masked Guard said, and taped three wires to his temple. Blake rubbed his forearms. “Ebidora, I think it’s too early to say anything to him. He’s in shock.” She glanced back to Kevin, ignoring her subordinate. “We need to figure out what’s wrong with you. Take this. It’ll calm you down.” Before he had the chance to plan a another word doesnt seem to work with him and his mindset rn testimony, the Guard forced three pills deep down Kevin’s throat. Spit up. A Guard at the ready tissued

At last, the words above him shining in green, “Armory”, and before it, stood a tall man wearing IFM riot armor. This was Reginald; the guard of the armory. “Heyyyy Reginald, any chance I could slip through?” The guard had no response. “So is that a No?” The guard shook his head. “Arrrrrre you sure?” The guard nodded once, swiftly. “Aww come on Reggie-” The guard shook his head again. “Could you atleast get something for me?” Reginald tilted his head. “I need a door

I woke to the sound of drilling. The vibrations rattling my skull. My head was throbbing as I sat myself up, the weariness of fatigue setting in. My clothes were filthy. My pants were stained and torn as if I had been dragged along the ground. Where was I? And why did my body ache? I remembered brief flashes. Of medical tools; scalpels, needles, and the harsh smell of antiseptic. Of peeling white walls. Of a bloodied white lab coat. Then I remembered the cold. Ice freezing and scratching. Snow biting

third time this hour, and nothing but brick and concrete made up the floor, ceiling, and walls of the Betty Creek Institution. “Fun’s over, get back to your rooms,” one of the guards announced in a New Jersey-style dialect. “Bub-bye,” Alice exclaimed, “wait! one more

without further inspection when Mallory shows him forged papers and letters of authority supposedly from a German general. Later, the Germans are somehow tipped off about the mission, and Andrea sneaks into the watchtower. The others distract the guards, and Andrea apprehends them and locks them in the basement of the tower. They fix the engine and set off toward Navarone

I entered the Sixteenth District Police Station through a revolving door made of plexiglass and a metallic pole. The first thing I observed was the front desk; stretched from the far left to the far right of the rectangular lobby; the desk looked as if it was made of some kind of hard plastic. Four officers (three male, one female) were sitting at the desk wearing blue-collared shirts with brass name tags on the left and badges on the right side of their shirts with dark navy blue pants and a belts

fire. This was no ordinary fire, it was a deadly. The alarms sounded loudly, puffing the man continued running. His head started to pound, beads of sweat ran down his cheek. He dared not stop for he probably only had a five minute start ahead of the guards who chased him and the other escapers. Will he be the first man to escape, will he even escape… 11 months before. Robert Trotman: 5’ 7”, born on May 24, 1976, 39 years old. All written on his time recorder card, which tracks if you come to work on

Late that morning, he received news that General Zhousbek had arrived and directed the guard to surreptitiously escort him to the throne room. Pleased at how fast General Zhousbek had responded to his summons, he entered the room to find the guard and General Zhousbek already waiting, and after guard’s formal introduction, ordered the guard out. “General Zhousbek, you made good time getting here. Did you have any trouble along the way?” “No, Count Nightburn. Everything went according to plan.”

Tsukiyomi snarled in defiance as she was shoved into an elven cell by a young guard with cold grey eyes and a blank but equally icy expression. "I tell you, I am in no part associated with these animals. I was never charged with a crime." Her eyes flashed crimson. The guard fixed her with a steely eyed glare. "We shall see." She growled at him once more before retreating to the back wall of the cell. "You will not want to associate with me after night." He simply turned on his heel and strode

be anything but. My sentence was life in the Insane Asylum for the Mentally Impaired until further notice of my sanity. The outcome was not swell, but it beat the jail cell or dying to the needle of a drug that put you into an endless sleep. The guard came, my escort, and took me away. Away from the courtroom, out of the jail, and out into the open. Waiting for me was a white van with bars over the window in the back. The words written in black spelled Insane Ward Bus. To my horror, there was