I was in a car, a SUV, barreling through Atlanta. I wasn't driving. I'm not sure who was. Islamic militants were in control of much of Atlanta, and the streets were aflame.
We avoided some roadblocks and went around a corner -- and realized we were in a dead-end. Not just a dead-end, but a dead-end that was actually a large room. We got out of the car, just as someone closed an enormous door behind us.
Several of my friends were in the clink with me, but I can't remember most of their identities (with one exception). About this time, some of our captors came in, and I realized this group, at least, wasn't made up of militants: they were all cyborgs. Homemade cyborgs, who had grafted metal crap into their bodies to make themselves tougher, meaner, stronger. They were strolling in and out, waving guns at us, laughing at us.
About this time, my friend P.J. was thrown in to join us, and then I woke up.