You panted, breath rattling and lungs complaining with every gasp. Blood, sweat and dirt stained your skin and hair. Electric burns peeled at your already stinging, bruised, and cut skin.

A thick, dusty bag had been tugged over your head. Sometimes, if you looked the right way, a bit of light filtered through the scratchy threadwork.

This was the fifth day, if you recall correctly - since Coyle had dragged you from your group and started his little 'interrogation.'

On only the second day, another group of reagents had come along; that time around they were trying to electrocute you. Provided, it allowed you to see a 'protective' side of The Cop, but after the ordeal, his own tortures resumed. What wasn't trying to kill you in this shithole?

"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 Christ Himself!" Leland grumbled, shoving his inactive baton into your bare stomach.