"Well, this is a charming place," Nomu commented, his usual heroic bravado slightly dampened by the oppressive gloom. "Reminds me of the dungeons on Planet Glarzon-7. Terrible food."
Bombom didn't reply. He was focused, his red eyes scanning the rows of identical, iron-barred cells. He could feel it, a faint, familiar aura of stoic, orange-juice-fueled resignation. He pointed down the corridor. "This way."
They walked, their footsteps the only sound in the unnerving silence. They passed cells filled with shadowy figures, their faces hidden in the darkness, their silent, hopeless stares following the strange duo—the Super Jean and the goth femboy—as they passed. Finally, at the very end of the cell block, they found him.
