The door slammed and he heard the engine roar and the tires chirp through a constant ringing in his ears. There was no seeing anymore. Not much feeling either. He should have felt the acceleration as they sped away, and yet he felt light as a feather. And then —

Voices. A man. Clipped British accent, like he was play acting at being British. And a woman. Two women. One cool, one earnest and pleading. Then raised voices. Shouting.

Then like a wave breaking he was awash in pain, foamy eddies and splashes of pain coursing over his body. He cried out, and the three arguing voices went silent as they turned to observe him. He had opened his eyes, but was so overwhelmed with the excruciating pain he was unable to take in his odd surroundings.

The British voice who turned out to be a slightly built young man of medium height, drew a sharp breath. “Right. You’ll probably want something for that.”