The van grinds to a final stop and you hesitate with a hand resting on the waistcoat before deciding that fiddling with electronics is probably a bad idea.
The inside of the van was dark, barely illuminated by a smoked glass panel in the roof that was smaller than your outstretched hand. As a result you're momentarily blinded when the back doors are thrown open to admit a brilliant sunlight. They're counting on that moment of dazzle you realise as a man jumps into the van and quickly and efficiently blindfolds you. You didn't catch even a glimpse of his face.
The man's hands are rough surfaced but he does not handle you roughly and, blinded as you are, you don't offer more than a cursory attempt to struggle. He does, however, knock your hands away from the waistcoat.
"Don't touch that!" His voice is sharp but doesn't carry any kind of distinctive accent. "It could hurt you more than you know!"
You're pulled from the van, the man who spoke to you now directing at least two others. You hear the change in the quality of the sound as you pass through a set of doors and into some kind of building.
"Don't struggle." The man warns you. "You're not going to be hurt."
"Huh! Like I'm going to believe you!" You snap, frustrated and still struggling slightly.
"You ought to, boy. We're doing this for your own good!"
It's dark in the blindfold, and disorientating. One of the men holding you is half lifting you off the ground and pushing you along at the same time and you almost fall as you stumble forward into another room. You've lost track of the twists and turns you've taken but as soon as you're shoved forward and your arms are released you turn and try to run back. You just hit a wall and as you scrabble at the blindfold with newly released hands you realise that it is a door that was slammed behind you.
You look around and find yourself in an interview room resonant of a thousand detective shows on TV. It's functional and plain with a bare wood table in the center of the room and two wooden chairs flanking it. The walls are the kind of pale cream that is meant to offend no one. One entire wall, though, is dominated by a large mirror. Mirrored glass, you tell yourself, gazing at it suspiciously. So you're in a police station, you think, but then the other possibilities occur to you: or a detention centre, any kind of secret base, or even a hospital where they want to keep someone under observation.
You look from the wooden chairs to the mirrored glass and an idea begin to forms in your mind.
Do you:
a) Try to escape?
b) Wait for something to happen?
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