[b]Floyd - Hollow[/b]

It had only been fifteen minutes since he awoke, and now he sat in a puddle of water, hands and legs tied, as despair surrounded his every angle. That breeze from earlier was no lost, only a strong-willed precipitation remained. The damp atmosphere made it difficult to breathe, but Floyd was used to such conditions. Before the outbreak, he lived in the New Orleans' woods, which were basically swamp lands. The atmosphere in that chamber was the same as the one in his cabin. The stench was the only difference, it reeked worse than a pile of burnt walkers. But excluding that smell, not a single sound could be heard. This was the cell block and Floyd couldn't hear any other prisoners. Had they been altered so much that they've lost all hope in breaking free? Floyd's rage began to prosper over his common sense. If they were going to try and break him, they've got another thing coming. 

"Look at'em Chuck, he's looking all depressed. Don't worry little fella' you wont be stuck here for too long. Soon enough, you'll be in the arena, gladiating for your life! Hahaha!" he laughed, making up a word that meant 'fighting'. This place was obviously worse than he'd imagine, but couldn't dare to lose himself in thought. His mission was to find a way out, but as of now, he had no choice but to keep silent and remain focused. When the time presented itself, he'd make a move. 

"By the way stranger, you never answered our friend back there, what's your name? Yo momma gave you a name right partner?" the man known as Smith continued. He was irritating, like that little stuttering kid from the train yard, he just wouldn't stop talking. With a little hesitation, Floyd wasn't sure if he'd need to answer this man. He knew who they were, a bunch of pirates that stole from other groups. That's lower than Floyd would ever go. He was an independent man who could live off the land on his own. He was in this situation because he decided to go against that logic. If only he'd of stayed away from that group, if only he'd remain in his cabin maybe he'd never been in such a mess. "My names Smith, this over here is Chuck. Grumpy man out there was Brad, he's the head honcho around here, well, he's the second in command I guess you could say. Big fat-ass was Bull, he's a dummy, just muscle, Hahaha! Right Chuck? Just muscle! hahaha," but Chuck never laughed. He smiled, but never laughed. "Anyhow, that's our names, I'm sure you've got one too." 

"Floyd." 

"Oh okay, I see. So, you from around here? Cuz, I came down here from New Mexico and then all this shit happens. Psh! Just my luck huh? Anyway, you make yourself at home, cuz you ain't going nowhere anytime soon. Unless Tyler decides to make you one of us. I mean, you look like shit, but it seems you can take care of yourself. Around here, independence is strength. You take what you want and that's it. Unless of course Tyler says its against the rules. You know Chuck, Tyler sometimes scares me. Doesn't matter though, what I'm trying to get you to understand partner is that you shouldn't fight your situation, you'll just be wasting your time. Well, I gotz to go, catch ya in a while" Smith finished, walking further into the catacombs, yet remaining by the cells as they awaited company. 

The other two soldiers that were in the bed of the truck parked the vehicle. Floyd continued to sit there, going against everything he was just told and trying to get out of those tight ropes. He didn't have anything on him, his only possession - his knife - must have been stripped from his belt when he was knocked out. "Dammit, I've gotta get the hell out of here. But these doors are completely shut. Dammit!" he thought to himself, still attempting to break free of the knots. It was a hopeless attempt as he was informed because he wasn't making any progress.