Robert was twisting and turning in his bed, the dirty blanket had wrapped itself around his body like a rope, he was soaked in cold sweat, his face was contorted into strange expressions, his eyes rolling madly in their sockets, reliving a memory that was now wrong, distorted and different from what he remembered. Robert was trapped in a nightmare he was incapable of waking from.
He was standing in the centre of his living room at the Regent hotel, the room was dark, only two small lamps, fixed to the walls on either side of them, lit the scene. Connor stood in front of him, in his usual creamy suit, jackets and tie removed, collar unbuttoned, he wore a smile of triumph, and Robert could feel what he knew to be the cold barrel of a gun, pressed against his back.
Robert knew the few of his own men, who had agreed to 'over throw' him, stood behind him, they were quiet, quieter than he remembered them being that night, for he knew he was dreaming, he knew it was wrong, yet he could not wake himself to end it,
"You never thought I'd do it, did you!", Connor hissed at him, "never thought I'd have the bottle of the support to take you down!",
"Oh, Connor", he smiled back, his teeth gleaming through his evil sneer like smile, "you haven't taken me down yet, confrontation and victory, are two quite different things!", Robert heard the words come out of his mouth, yet he knew it was not what he had said before, he sounded more like Woods, than himself!
"But this is a victory!", Connor laughed out loud, "do you see anyone coming to save you?!", Connors words were different too, he was being a lot more precise than Robert had remembered,
"I've already been saved, Connor!", Robert replied dryly, "and no amount of bullets can kill me now!", Connor grinned broadly,
"Who needs bullets?!", he rasped, then marched forwards, took Robert by his shoulders and turned him round on the spot, to face his own men.....they were not his men!
Eight shadows had replaced them, they lingered there, somewhere between standing and floating on their smoke like legs, and what Robert had mistaken for a gun, was the long, sliver like finger of one of the shadows, and before he could utter a word, the finger had slipped into his chest, reaching in for his heart, an unearthly cold spread through his body,
"And now", Connor said from behind him, into his ear, "I have my victory!".