The white cotton-like t-shirts and clinical pants did little to keep away the chill of their cell, not to mention the damp cold temperature of the stone floor on bare feet.
“How long has it been?” Bill asked his colleague.
“I’ve lost track,” Conrad Reyes replied.
They sat huddle in a corner of their ‘cell’, arms tightly wrapped around themselves as the door to the room opened. Vahl entered, and he did not look happy.
“Stand!” he said; they complied in silence.
“I’ve been ordered to take you to the United Syndicate,” said the creature.
“And who are they?” Bill asked.
“They are the Syndicate; others like you,”
“Good,”
Vahl shrugged his massive shoulders, “You must be presentable.”
He gave a glance one of the guards, “Go with them, they will see that you are properly clothed.”
“What about the rest of our people?” Reyes asked as he was being carted away.
“Their fate rests in the purview of the Syndicate. If they do not assume responsibility for the others, they will be exterminated,”
“Jesus Christ,” from Bill.