23-year-old Leon Kennedy, Umbrella's finest agent, is sent to Raccoon City in September 1998, during the night of the horrifying outbreak. He's told to secure a sample of the G-virus and to get rid of William Birkin, as well as to kill any of the re...
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There's truly nothing worse in life than pain. Whether it's physical or emotional — it all hurts. It all leaves scars, even if you can't see them.
They've decided to go with electricity today. With several wires attached to your bare skin, your knuckles whiten and lips press together when you try your best to handle it.
It all starts out fine. You can always handle it easily in the beginning. Then they turn the voltage up, the meter going higher and higher until you begin to struggle. You can take much more than the average human being, but you still feel the pain.
And they always try to push your limits. A little more, just a little more, every time. It's an effective method, sure. But the consequences that come with it are beyond damaging.
Your agonizing screams echo through the walls of the basement. It's a well-hidden bunker close to the CIA Headquarters, yet the place looks more like some Victorian mental hospital on the inside. The bland walls and flickering lights certainly add to it.
"Stop! Just stop! I can't... just stop." You cry out, the layer of sweat visible on your forehead. God, you feel like you're going to throw up.
The three people monitoring you closely have straight faces while you're fighting not to tear your own head off from the pain. You don't understand how they have it in them.
Simmons usually watches you from behind the glass. You're convinced he likes seeing you in pain, the bastard. You hate him with everything you have.
He walks in, causing the person in charge of the amount of voltage to turn it down, and you can finally breathe properly. Your body twitches slightly from the electricity, lips parted as you regain your breath.
"You're weaker today."
"Haven't slept." You mention with a glare on your face, just because you hate seeing his. Especially up close.
You're unaware that the higher-ups have come to watch today, but Simmons is, and he's determined to show off your high pain tolerance to them, not knowing it's going to cause him more harm than good.
As you struggle to keep your head up from exhaustion, he lifts your chin up. "You can handle it just fine. Don't act like this."
"Just stop already, you're not getting anywhere with... any of this."
"It's pathetic. I thought you were well on your way to reach your full potential, but I guess I was wrong." He leans down, a condescending grin on his face as his brief, nasty laughter rips through your ears. "You could've been a god if you weren't such a weakling."
