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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Phoenix" data-source="post: 2443163" data-attributes="member: 16166">The darkness hides nothing from Ba'aktar as he staggered along the hall, using one hand to prop himself up most of the time.  Each of the dirty, old cells on his left was empty and contained enough dust and cobwebs to show that no-one had used them for years.  His captors had probably left him here to die for their own reasons.At the end of the hall a large iron door with a small window at eye level marks the end of the passage.  Flickers of blue-green light escaped from the barred window and there are stange crackling noises escaping from within.Shouldering himself against the iron door, Ba'aktar's eyes easily defeat the darkness, flashing lights, and weary dehydration as they peer into the room.  Three men in yellow robes with hoods resting on tables nearby, stand around a rack that is partially tilited against the far wall.In the centre of the room one of the young children that Ba'aktar had rescued is chained to a table, several wires penetrating under his skin lead into the larger form that is secured on the tilted rack.  Energy passes between the two, but both have passed out and make no sound.Ba'aktar's eyes were lying to him though, he knew that for sure.  There was no way that the person attached to the rack near the Yellow men was who he thought it was.  Ba'aktar was standing on this side of the door, battered, bruised and dehydrated......there was no way that the man who was on the rack could possibly look identical to himself.</blockquote>

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