His treatment was rough and unkind, and for the first time Jack figured he was actually in danger of dying. He had worked hard to cross the continent, he couldn't possibly end his time on Earth here and now, could he? Clearly this gang of bikers did not like him, nor his attitude, the feeling was rather mutual, he hated their guts as well. Being thrust into the dungeon that was an old cafeteria Jack could see that he was not likely going to get to go free any time soon.<br/><br/>His first reaction of course was not the brightest idea as he picked himself up off the cold bare ground and kicked the door hard with his right foot. "Fuck me! Ow, son of a...." he didn't finish the line as he soon realized there were eyes on him from every corner of the room he was in. Not being along was both comforting and scary as hell, Jack liked the idea of someone else to talk to, well multiple somebodies to talk to, but the idea that just about any one of them could likely kill him didn't give him much hope either.<br/><br/>No one looked emaciated, that was a good thing, food was important, but none of them looked overly content to be there either. Some were battered and bruised, much like Jack would soon be. He noticed that there were a couple of groups of three men, a couple of women, and then there were some guys who were alone. There was not much in the way of space to be alone, but he found a small patch of wall to the left where the shadows seemed to be the darkest for now, and that was where Jack headed.<br/><br/>While this was the first time he thought he was going to die, it was not the first time he had been scared on his journey, but it was the first time he was afraid for his life, and that made things worse. He pressed his back against the wall and slowly let it slide down the wall until his ass met the ground, Jack bent his knees and wrapped his arms around them and buried his head into the darkness between his legs. A tear formed in his right eye, then his left, a lump in his throat.<i> Oh fuck, not now, this is not a good time to cry. it is a sign of weakness and someone is bound to pick me apart like a wolf drawn to a wounded prey.</i>The sob came though, no amount of internal dialogue could spare Jack from them. He was able to keep the sobs low, not full out bawling like a baby. He wanted to go back to his old life, to have power and electricity again, for all things electronic to work. How the bikers managed to have vehicles was a miracle to say the least, the last he knew all circuits had been fried, so this was a marvel of capabilities or sheer luck, he wasn't sure which, and honestly he didn't care anymore. He wanted free, wanted out, and there was little he could do to make that happen.