The next room doesn't have a tape waiting for you outside the door, instead, you go in without any warning about what is to come. Once inside, you find yourself in a dimly lit room that smells foul. There is a man hunched forward in a chair like device, the sound of his sobbing fills the room almost as much as the foul smell does. Walking closer, you recognize him easily enough once you get a good look at his face.

Trigga was what he was called. He had his filthy hands in everything pretty much. Drugs, prostitutes, the black market. He was the one selling drugs to Forrest and he was the one who owned the debt Forrest owed when he traded you to pay it off. You had been so high when he dragged you into the trap house Trigga was using to sell drugs and prostitutes that you didn't even fully understand what was happening.

Then Forrest had shook hands with Trigga and left. You had learned very quickly that keeping Trigga happy was the most important thing in your life. Refusing him was dangerous, often times deadly. One of the girls had bitten him when he forced her to give him head, he had brought in some kind of black market chop shop surgeon who harvested her organs to sell. After that, all of the girls behaved, including you.

Living in that trap house, servicing Trigga and his clients had been hell on earth. One of the worst parts of the entire experience had been the branding. Each girl had to endure a tattoo on their groin with Trigga's name. He didn't want anyone to think any of you were owned by someone else. And if someone paid him enough, they could do whatever they wanted to the girls. There was no act too violent or obscene for him to turn down cash money for. At times there had even been children kept down in the basement for short periods of time, used in pornographic films that he could sell to the right demographic. He never kept the kids there long and you don't know what happened to them after they had been used for their few films then removed from the house.

He looks up at you as you stand before, brown eyes as hateful and accusing as always. But, he knows who you are. It's only been a few years since the two of you had last seen each other after all. You feel yourself wither a bit under his glare, taking a step back to avoid his gaze. Even though he had been crying when you walked in and the tears still shine wetly off his cheek, you know what he's capable of.

"What the fuck is going on, Ciara?" His voice cracks a bit, but you still flinch reflexively.

"I don't know... Someone took a bunch of people and is making me go through the rooms-"

"Shut the fuck up and get me out of here," He cuts you off.

You study The Device

You swallow down your fear of the man who had owned you for years and walk around the device he is stuck in to get a better grasp of the situation. It's a metal chair with several additions made to it and clockwork of various metal pieces, gears, and other things. Straps have him forced into a hunched over position with his legs spread wide, you quickly realize that he is naked.

Some kind of shallow metal bucket covers his groin and duct tape has it secured in place to his skin. You can hear a strange scurrying sound inside that makes him flinch. Looking closer at it, you can see a blow torch mechanism similar to the ones Forrest's device had had at the bottom of the bucket. His arms are tied behind him and forced upward onto the back of the chair in a very uncomfortable angle. As you walk around behind him, you blink when you realize there is a rifle in some kind of device that seems to make it fire behind him. It is angled toward him and the end of the barrel disappears into his asscheeks.

Behind the device holding the rifle in place, you spot a tape laying on the ground and hurry to pick it up.