FicWad

 Dick awoke with a fogged mind to a dark warehouse that smelled of raw sewage. It took all the strength he had to lift his head and look around the room. It was bare- stripped of anything but the floorboards. It was then he realized that he was chained to the wall. His feet did not touch the ground; his ankles were shackled. He then took an inventory of himself. The once white polo shirt he'd worn to bed was spotted and dirty. His Slacks were worn at the bottom of the leg and dusty. He himself seemed fine, all for but a scraped knee. He shrugged it off. He'd learned to deal with pain much greater than this. He looked up at the chains holding him: they were built into the brick wall. He examined them curiously. They looked to be rusted. He smiled. Now there looked to be hope for him to get out. All hope died when the double doors flew open, revealing a hunched over figure bathed in the golden rays of sunshine.

                     *

Dick breathed a large sigh and lifted his head. It took him a moment to readjust himself to the world around him. He looked down at his shirt to see blood staining it. He shuddered at the memory of the torture. Now, he looked around. Right in front of him, on a tripod, was a camera, with the red light blinking.