Greg Cassock groaned as he finally came to. The taste of blood filled his mouth and the stench of piss and shit overwhelmed the senses; he could tell he reeked. Bright lights edged in through his closed eyelids and, as he tried to open them, he realized that only one would. A shock of pain shot through his head as soon as the light hit his pupil, causing him to yell out in agony. He could feel that he was restrained and tried to move his fingers, checking to see if anything was broken - again; sharp pains coursing through his body as he attempted to do so.

His memory slowly came back to him and he began to yell, fighting the restraints that held him tied down to the chair, sitting in his own defecation. He shook furiously trying to free himself. A sound caused him to look up, and he saw the door to the room swing wide open. Three shadows slipped into the room and then a cold feeling washed over him...

He couldn't breath without choking on water as he was sprayed down and cleaned. Sputtering and gasping, he looked up and shivered as a draft swirled through the door. He was wide awake now, and even his other eye was open. The three men continued to spray him down, washing the blood and bodily fluids away. Greg finally convinced himself to breathe slowly and look the gentlemen in the eye. "He comin' back? That Irish fuckin' prick? Tell him I'll be waiting..."

"Yeah, he's comin' back ya dick... And he's got a friend with him this time. I think you're gonna love seein' your little girl, Greg. She's gonna be so happy to know you're alive! She can see her dear old daddy this way!"

The three men laughed as Greg's face twisted into slight horror and he screamed uncontrollably as they sprayed his face once more and shut the door, leaving him to his racing thoughts as their laughter faded out of earshot...