Luke woke in a daze. He still couldn’t feel his legs, but his vision was clearing. He looked at the room around him. 3 white walls, a white ceiling, and a large glass window, which was a one way mirror, serving as wall number four. “Just perfect.” He groaned. “Modern day prison cell.” The riolu sat up and looked at some things inside his room. He saw a chair with some restraining devices, a few punching bags, and a compartment labeled ‘Food’.

    “HEY!” Luke yelled at the glass. “I KNOW YOU HEAR ME!!!” He heard a small crackle of a speaker, and a voice came from the wall closest to Luke. “Ah, you’re awake. Good. Tell me, how do you feel, Lukarin?” The voice was lower than average, and it sounded somewhat british. “Well, I’m pissed as hell because some bastard killed my father, but otherwise, I’m fan-fucking-tastic for your information.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Why am I here? What do you want with a kid?” Luke demanded. There was laughter from multiple distinct voices. “Oh, Lukarin… You’re different. You have quite the potential for a 4 year old…” The Wall responded. Luke felt his legs regaining strength. “And one more thing…” He stood up. “How the living fuck do you know my name?” There was a brief pause. “Well, Lukarin…” A new voice, one that sounded more Russian, spoke from the opposite wall. “Call me Luke, damn it.” Luke stomped.

“Alright… Luke... as for what you're doing here, maybe you should ask Dario Mirotic… Nathan Thompson… Kenji Yamamoto… Uriah Davidson… or maybe even Sergeant De’aaron Jenkins. Or you could if you hadn't so brutally killed them.” With every name he read, Luke remembered each kill specifically. “HA! Yeah, I assfucked those c*nts. I take it you know about those weakass soldiers sent to ‘apprehend’ me? So are you holding me for murder? Is this federal prison?” Luke chuckled and looked around more, walking over to the mirror and putting his paw on the glass.

    “Alas, no, young Luke. We found you on the roadside after you killed those soldiers… OUR soldiers.” The british voice said. Luke almost instantly punched the glass, cracking the glass. “YOU BASTARDS! YOU'RE THEM!!! YOU KILLED MY FATHER!!!” The next moment, the entire floor crackled with electricity. Not enough to be lethal, but enough to stun a pokemon. Luke flopped back onto his backside. “Ow…” He rubbed his lower back. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that… You’ll be here a long time while we analyze that blue serum you chose to put in your bloodstream.” The russian voice said again.

    “Where are we?” Luke said standing again. “We cannot tell you that.” The russian voice said. From a speaker in the floor, a more american sounding voice said “Yeah. That’s right, 3 pizzas with sausage, 2 pizzas with pepperoni, 6 plain cheese, and 1 with barbecue sauce instead of tomato sauce, and 10 orders of cinnamon-coated breadsticks. The address? Yeah, 447 North Wind Street. Yeah, the one outside Los Angeles. You can’t miss it, it’s a huge black warehouse-looking building! There’s even a wall around it!” Luke tried to hold in a laugh, but he held it in and memorized the info he just heard. “4-4-7… North Wind street… L.A…” He whispered to himself. “I gotta get out… the only question is… How the hell will I do it?” He thought as he drifted back asleep.