3 muscular black men

When Claire opens the door, she is suddenly confronted by three huge, muscular men. They are wearing work boots and jeans. Their faces are painted with white skulls.

“Welcome to your fucking wet dream!” bellows the leader of the group.

“Really guys? Aren't you a bit too old for trick-or-treating?” giggles Claire, slightly tipsy and not yet fully aware of the danger. But the three of them rush forward and push Claire back down the corridor until she finally stumbles and falls to the floor.

“You think we're not serious, bitch?” the tallest of the group scrawls in a very harsh accent, “Shut your fucking face!”

Claire's eyes widen now that she recognizes the danger: “What do you want from us?”

“We're looking for your fucking husband. Where's the little cracker?” the leader asks, leaning slightly towards Claire, holding a baseball bat in his hand.

“He ... He's not here! Just me and my daughters,” Claire replies, immediately regretting mentioning her daughters.

“Your daughters? Maybe the bitches can help us more than you can,” says the leader as he slowly stands up.