You panted, breath rattling and lungs complaining with every gasp. Both wet and dry blood stained your skin and hair. Bruises and cuts stung at your flesh, and electric burns peel your skin.

A thick bag, dusty and scratchy, was settled over your head.

This was the fifth day, if you recall correctly. Since Coyle dragged you from your group, binding you to a stiff wooden chair and demanding information about Easterman.

On only the second day another group of reagents had come along, but that time around they were trying to send you to an electric chamber. What wasn't trying to kill you in the Trials?

"So? Ready to sing, asshole? Cuz' if not, I got half a mind to shove lightning so far up yer' asshole you'll see Jesus H. Christ!" Leland grumbled, shoving his inactive baton into your bare stomach.