Doc's vision faded in and out a few times before he could clearly see. Before he could get a good look, though, he felt vomit rise in his throat. He coughed and wiped the residue from his mouth. "What the h-" he stopped after getting a look at the room. It was empty, a waste land of dust. He scanned the floor and found that he was not alone. A girl was standing, not far from him, and several others lay unconscious on the floor. He also took note of the club beside them.

Doc glanced at the girl, the only one conscious, and examined her as if he was expecting her to be carrying a gun. "Where are we?" He scoffed, rubbing his forehead. The last he remembered was that he was off buying some food. An image of a broadsword flashed through his thoughts, but that was it. 

He took a few wobbly steps, before he regained his balance, and inspected the room. It seemed just like the average basement, only bigger and dirtier. "Well damn..." He muttered, "Well this ain't good..." Doc looked down at his clothes. He was still wearing his semi-pedestrian clothes, a white undershirt with a worn brown jacket. Well, he thought, I suppose that's about the only good thing that's come outta this so far...