Three bunkers down held the top military personnel in the Arcane militia's intelligence. Under extreme security clearances and top-secret walkways, Quinn was laying naked on a cold prison floor. The frigid conditions matched most of the militia's heart; it's hard to believe blood flows through them at all.
A dirty woolen tunic provides warmth for his trauma, tossed on him by a guard.Even though sullied, the cloth on his frightened skin felt like cotton with an immeasurable thread count.
"I don't know anything. I take it back!" whimpered Quinn from the cell. The words escaped his mouth with such speed that it all came out incoherent, finally free, snatching the stagnant air with every vowel.
The guard pretended to be deaf to Quinn's sorrow, even though most of it was tattooed on his fa
