You squirmed against the restraints of the chair, wrists twisting against the bindings as you fought with every ounce of strength, whimpering and gasping through your teeth desperately. A bag was over head, almost suffocating you due to your panicked breaths. The metal wheels of the chair squealed with each shove forward on he rail below you, each squeak making you beg more and more for the reagent to stop. There were words carved on your chest: “SNITCH". Your legs attempted to kick, though were kept down by the restraints. Your breath grew more labored as you could sense that you were growing closer to the electrocution chamber.

The pressure in your chest rose into a scream—you were screaming for Coyle, the cop you were terrified by. You knew that he was more dangerous as the reagent pushing you, but not at the moment...you think, at least. It would still be better to die quickly from him, anyway. The reagent gave another shove, not really caring, nearly at the destination. Suddenly, a door nearby, from another room, got kicked open.

The cop burst through, looking...ever so slightly mad. His bloodied, wore badge glimmered faintly, stitched proudly into the police hat on his head. His sunglasses covered his narrowed eyes, his teeth grit to the point his teeth nearly cut off a half of his cigar between them. His chest was heaving, his electric baton sparking as he chased after the retreating reagent.

“THAT MAN’S ASSHOLE IS MINE!” Coyle yelled almost comically—it would've been funny if you weren't so terrified for your life at the moment...