Effie struggled to breathe, warm crimson spilling from his forehead and arms. At this point, he knew there was no way back. After being ambushed by N Corp Inquisitors, his body was mangled, prosthetics jammed where his arms and legs should be to give those sick fucks a reason to torment him. As his eyes lay on the Sinners in front of him, he grits his teeth and lets out a shaky breath, a beg for a mercy kill. Otherwise, he’d die painfully slow.