The darkness was blinding, the silence deafening, but the tension was thick as muck. Guilermo was led by the legionary through a dark and murky hallway, the dripping ceiling barely grazing his head while each step he took kicked up dirt. Guilermo felt the urge to hold the back of his head, as the spot where he had hit his head was pulsing. When did he hit his head, anyways? Minutes ago? Hours? Though Guilermo had been knocked out, he remembered first being dragged away from his prison by the legionary, although he wasn't completely aware. Even at that moment, each drip from the leaking ceiling which splashed on his head woke him up little by little.
Occasionally Guilermo's knees buckled when taking a step. Upon stepping over a mound of sand, Guilermo tripped, gasping. It was only upon gasping did he remember that his mouth was still gagged. The legionary dragging him merely glanced at him with a glare. The glare wasn't o