Jack entered his quarters, angry and confused. He wanted to leave, just as he had wanted to weeks earlier, but he also wanted to figure out what was going on at this place. There were too many questions that needed answers for him to just run away.

He stopped dead in his tracks as the room's door closed behind him. Something was wrong. The room smelled strange, and it was almost as if someone was near him. Jack's heart fluttered as he realized he'd walked into a trap.

Someone grabbed him from behind as another came at him from the side. Yet another came from the other side and grabbed his legs.

Primal fear and rage enveloped Jack, and he began fighting back. He immediately raised an arm, throwing his second attacker, who had approached from his right side, off of him. He grabbed at the person holding his legs, while elbowing the side of the foe behind him.

"Hold him!" yelled a familiar masculine voice.

Jack continued to struggle with the men, and his defensive fight became more and more offensive. He was gaining the upper hand in this battle. But suddenly, he felt a sharp stab of pain on his left temple, and he fell to the ground. He was stunned, knocked senseless.

The three men piled on top of him, each muttering his own words of anger and frustration. One reached toward his neck.

Jack roared in pain as he felt a needle tear into his jugular vein. Then, just as quickly as he felt the pinprick, he felt nothing, swallowed by darkness.


Jack groggily opened his eyes. His head ached, and he felt as if he were dreaming. But as his senses slowly came to him, he realized that this was no dream, but reality.

He couldn't see anything; the room was too dark. He tried to change that, using his heightened sense of sight, but it was no use. His mind was still numb from the drugs coursing through his system. All he saw was a blur.

The room suddenly erupted in light, blinding whiteness that surrounded Jack. Reacting rather slowly, he squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to cover his eyes with an arm. But his arm never found its way to its destination. His body was too weak.

"Hello, Mister McGregor," Altman said menacingly.

Jack couldn't make sense of these words, just as his eyes could not see at full efficiency. He moaned; the same moan one might make the morning after a long night of drinking. His head felt heavy, and he slowly drifted back into unconsciousness.