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Prologue...

I sit in the cold, dark room in my small apartment. I know the military will come for me, to take back the archives I stolen from their facility. I start to get up of the battered, dusty sofa in my cramped living space when an ear-splitting bang temporarily deafens me. I jump out of the spiderweb cracked window to see a masked man in dark blue armour. He said, "sweet dreams," and then I drop to the floor with a loud thud.

Two days later...

I wake up. I'm strapped to a concrete slab and now own the mother of all headaches. The harsh white light makes my eyes ache, and I make a desperate attempt to break through the restraints when a robotic voice said, "state your name and age." I replied, "Diabolus Darkdoom, age 26." Then a door to my left opens and the restraints that hold me to the slab retracts. "Please leave, a security guard will escort you to your accommodation." I silently exit the room as a guard strides towards me hastily. "Please co-operate," the guard commanded, "or being on the receiving end of my tranquilliser will be the least of your worries." I replied by saying, "No, you will co-operate." I snatched the gun from the mans holster, aim, and fire. The circular pulse beam hits him in the center of his chest, and he crumples to the floor. I run to the nearest exit and slam the door open, the hinges squealing in protest. Inside I find several guards each armed with the tranquilliser that I have now. One of the guards hit my leg with the pulse, and I fall to the ground. I'm pleased to be conscious, but I don't think that's going to be good when one of the guards yell, "Get the shock suit, looks like we got someone who's will to live will slowly diminish." The guard brings a glowing blue suit of overalls round to me and straps it onto me. They then cuff my hands and haul me to a dingy cell further down the corridor with a small sink, a toilet a concrete slab with a thin duvet on top. Inside is another man who wares a red jumpsuit and a metal band on his hand which flares with blue energy.
I immediately recognise the figure as Pietor Furan, one of the cultist champions that he allied with. He asks, "Diabolus? What are you doing here?"
"Let's just say I had an unfortunate run in with the delta facility," I say with a grim smile. Soon a voice from nowhere said, "Lunch hour, please report to the cantine where you will receive your meal." The door that locks us in the cell opened and me and Furan walk out to see another see a large group of red suited prisoners walk out of their cells and obediently March to the door.