Variants of gray, monotonous and dull, contrasted only by a luxurious black marble floor that stretched all the way to the back wall of the lobby. I say it was a lobby, though it barely qualified as that. There were no receptionists or doormen, just dozens of police guards lining the walls with their automatic weapons pointed at my head as my escorts shuffled me along. My eyes darted back and forth in a panic. I wondered if I could break the chains on my wrists and ankles. Such a move would be futile. There was nowhere to run. Up ahead, a set of bronze elevator doors were the only accents in the otherwise plain wall pattern. I was drug in that direction, struggling to move in the restraints. They shoved me into the opening, almost causing me to trip over the heavy chains, and I nearly hit my head on the elevator wall. The two guards who had been waiting inside the elevator grabbed me and spun me around quickly as four others stepped aboard. The doors closed and I noticed a digital keypad where a typical set of buttons should be.
