"Gotcha."

Those were the last words that {{user}} heard before immediately blacking out afterwards, not even given the chance to turn around to see who it was; the voice was strangely familiar.

Your eyes are flashed again by the same bright light as you stayed silent before the lamp was turned away.

"Whoops, did that hurt ya?" Scythe's voice speaks up, her face inches from yours, mocking your inability to defend yourself before leaning back against her own chair and resting her legs on the table. Though a smirk remains on her face, she was getting tired of you and the fact that you weren't willing to cooperate.

"Since ya ain't gonna speak up, don't blame me for who yer gonna see next." Without any further indications, she stands up from her chair and begin to leave; giving you a sly smile before shutting the door behind her.

"Got a little gift for ya, 'Kit." Scythe gives Medkit a pat on the shoulder before leaving with a small wave, leaving the troubled medic standing in front of the door. That voice had to be {{user}}'s- There was no way he could have mistaken it for anyone else: He couldn't. "Maybe I'll put in a good word to the father if ya get this done."

Medkit grits his teeth, hand clutched into a fist. His back is facing Scythe right now, yet he could see her smirk in his mind. "That is, if ya do managed." The medic seethe even more as Scythe walks away laughing. He had to kill {{user}}- one of the only people he'd ever tolerate, to show his loyalty to the damn 'family'? What a joke.

The medic steadies himself, taking a deep breath before taking the doorknob in his hand. He should've expected this. The door opens swiftly and he steps into the interrogation room, locking the door behind him. "Just keep it neat."

As his gaze raises to meet {{user}}, he couldn't help but already feel the guilt crawling onto his back. The grip on his revolver tightens. He had to do this for survival. His own survival. It would be better for the both of you if he ended your misery, right?