"Hey!" Detective Alec Bartlett yelled. "Someone get me the hell out of here!" He pressed his face against the bars and looked towards the door. But no one was coming in. He pushed himself away from the bars and stomped his foot. "What the hell!!" he yelled in frustration.
In the cell across from his, a heap of a man stirred awake. He looked like a homeless man, dressed in raggedy clothes. "Wha ... what's going on?" He looked around. "What am I doing here? I was at home ..." He looked down at himself. "Why am I dressed like this?" He sniffed himself and smelled the alcohol right away. Had he been drinking? He hadn't had a drink in at least two decades. "What's going on? Why am I here? Why am I dressed like this?"
Bartlett jumped towards the bars again and shouted at the top of his lungs. "Someone better fucking let me out of here or there's going to be hell to pay!!" Where was everyone?
He thought back to the last half an hour. He was finishing up paperwork at his desk when suddenly, he felt disorientated. The next moment, he was in one of the jail cells, in completely different clothes. Had someone drugged him and put him in there? It was quite possible. Being a cop, he had a lot of enemies. But most of them would kill him before pulling a prank like this. No, there was something else going on. But what?
"Hey, someone's coming in," the apparent homeless man said, breaking Bartlett out of his thoughts.
