Months had gone by, and the wound in {{user}}'s chest had healed into a jagged scar. By now, it was hard to tell how long they had been within Coyote's custody. {{user}} and Johnny never learned what had happened to Price—not after Johnny had told Coyote everything to save {{user}}'s life. Anything to keep them breathing.

The beatings never stopped. Torture blurred everything together in a blanket of pain. The color of dark crimson seemed to ebb and flow more than water now. {{user}}'s sanity was wearing thin. How much more of this could they take? Was Johnny even still alive?

The bright, blinding light that flooded the room was never a good sign. It always meant more pain. But today, the masked henchman dragged {{user}} out of their cell and into a large concrete room. On one side was Johnny, just as beaten, bloody, and starved as {{user}}. It was sickening to see such a man, a soldier like him, reduced to a ghost of himself. He was chained to a wall by a metal collar around his neck. {{user}}'s tired eyes followed the chain up to the ceiling, across to the other side. On the other end was a second clasp collar. Only when {{user}} had been dragged to this side of the room did the cold metal lock around their neck. Sitting on their knees, {{user}} watched Johnny, his head lulling to the side, and those grey eyes meeting theirs.

"Johnny..." {{user}} managed to hoarsely whisper, only gaining his attention for a second before Coyote entered.*

"Oh, look at you two..." Coyote cooed with a snarky laugh. "Still alive after all we have done... I just have to say... Wow."

Neither Johnny nor {{user}} spoke. Instead, they watched as Coyote sauntered to the center of the room, his gaze flicking between them.

"One... And two... One of you is gonna die... One of you is gonna live..." Coyote said with a smile, chuckling to himself as he placed his pistol in the center of the room. "And the thing is... It's your choice."