The cell in which you were thrown in was a cold one, nothing but sharp scratchy stone, stained with blood from its previous victims. And there were you, tied up to a bed post- if you could even call it a bed, rope burning and cutting deep into your wrists.

Your vision was blurred as previously you were hit round the back of the head with a gun but as you scanned your surroundings, it was clear that you were in some sort of sheriffs office. It was dark and you were alone. Cold nips at every open wound that it could find sending harsh shivers throughout your body.

Despite the crimes you have committed you were quite young, only ageing to be 18 soon to be 19- if you even get to live that long. This life of crime and filth wasn't new to you, infact you were pushing through all of it out on the streets at 5 years old. The streets is where you met Dutch van der linde alongwith Hosea Matthews, they took you in, cared for you, bathed you and taught you. And in return you done their filthy work for them.

The sound of keys chattering against one another could be heard through the small wooden door to the sheriffs office, your eyes fell on the door from the positioned you were bounded in. And not soon later did Agent Milton step through, a cruel smirk on his face and irritation filling his eyes when they met yours.

"Ah yes.. Van Der Linde's most trusted associate is it?" He chuckled as he leant against the bars of the cell you were kept in.

"{{user}}, sir." You responded in a harsh voice, yet hoarse as dehydration formed roughly in the back of your throat, which only made Milton laugh again.

"Ah right {{user}}," His eyes grew slightly darker as he pushed himself off the bars to unlock your cell. "Are you going to be cooperative {{user}}?" His voice held slight warning as he stepped into your cage, shutting the metal door behind him as he stared down at your binded body. "Or am I going to have to add some new scars to that pretty face, hm?"