A man, in a white lab coat, shirt and trousers walks out of the room. He hasn't shaved recently, as a short brown beard hides his jaw line and lips. His nose is misshapen from a fracture, veering off at an angle roughly halfway down. His beady eyes are strained on me, their green glow piercing my own. He crouches in front of me, and stretches out a hand to shake mine and help me to my feet.

I reach out to him, and shake his hand. But then I feel it. A needle pierces my palm; a thick, creamy liquid enters my body and rises through my throat. 'Anaesthetic!' I realise. 'They're tryi-' And I slip out of consciousness and slump to the floor.