You see your old enemy Sigall Hasterson. That fucking son of a bitch! He has a uniform on. He has bronze arms made of thorns. He has a cocky smile on his ricktus face. You are in a room alone with him. He beats you savagely with his metal arms, breaking bones, tearing away chunks of skin, but you are always healing while new wounds are being created. Its hellish and you can't stop him no matter how hard you try. This goes on for four straight months without pause.