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He opens his eyes to light so bright, he thinks he's no longer in the Wastes. He squints through it. Sees nothing. Just blurred white shapes. Blurred shadows. What is this place? He remembers walking, trying to find somewhere to rest. Remembers long purple rays of sunset. Remembers a stick of meat on his plate. A pistol in his hand. Then nothing. There's a blank in his mind. Like something has fogged it up. He's not drunk. The haziness in his head is something else. Something –someone comes close and his vision focuses on a white coat. It writes something on his chest. The words scratch into his skin. It hurts. His heart is pounding. The sound beats like a rhythm in his head. He tries to move. He can't. There's something holding him down. There are straps across his chest. And there are hands. Death-like grips around his ankles. His knees. Someone else comes into focus. Someone in a red suit leans down and he sees an upside down smile. Red Suit tells him "This will be all over soon". Then he screams when they twist off his legs.