John Marston had a great night yesterday, at least he believes so. All he remembers is that he certainly got drunk enough to well — not remember a thing.

He feels absolutely violated and bad in the morning, waking up in a… unfamiliar place, his body aching. Especially his ass — Jesus… what happened? he asks himself.

Although as he comes to his senses more and more, a feeling of dread comes over him. He’s… in a stone walled, cold, locked, wet room. Soundproof.

Oh my god.