Out of the Frying pan and Into the... Well, Whatever This Is
The smell and feel of.... building wasn't an unfamiliar one to the redhead, so, in his subconscious, there didn't seem to be any reason for alarm. However, to his body, it somehow felt different, perhaps as though he shouldn't be there. It could be due to the drugs, but, of course, his brain couldn't exactly register that at the moment, as he didn't know exactly what was going on in order to put two and two together.
He woke up with a start as soon as his mind was functioning well enough to do so, immediately jerking up into a sitting position. Whether he was used to the feeling of metal and cement or not, something just didn't sit right with him, and he couldn't quite get it to, either, as much as he was trying to ignore it. There was a strange feeling in his gut and the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end.
Taking in a view of the strange room didn't help, either, as one may imagine. It looked similar to the prisoner cells in the building that he mostly called home, yet... not exactly the same. Was he a prisoner? Was he going to be an experiment? Did he mess something up so badly that he was being punished?
First thing's first, he went about checking himself, patting his clothing down and checking his pockets. No items. No stun baton. No gun. Well, that would make sense, if he was being detained for some reason, wouldn't it? The majority of the people in the company he worked for were average humans that he could easily take out, even with none of those things.
What he did find, however, was a piece of paper and a new... bracelet? Watch? What was this thing? it was ugly and not something he would ever agree to wear. Naturally, without reading the note first, he struggled with the bracelet, trying to get it off. The more he tried, the more it seemed to resist, so he decided to finally check the note, which only made the sinking feeling in his gut deepen.
"This someone's idea of a sick joke?" he asked, out loud, to nobody in particular, not expecting a reply, either. Up to this point, he'd failed to notice anything else about the room.
The numbered symbols were lost on him. After staring blankly at the piece of paper for a few moments, he crumpled it up and tossed it in no direction in particular.
It wasn't that he was dumb... if he was, Shinra would have never bothered to hire him. Perhaps it was more like... he wasn't exactly motivated enough to learn what that shit meant.
Surely, if he was being held prisoner, the rest of the Turks would show up and bust him out, right? That was something they were supposed to do for each other.
