Chapter 98 - Drawing and Quartering

The air is thick with anticipation, each item in the room a silent reminder of the grim procedure about to unfold. This is not a place of justice, but of finality, where the murky implements of death await their next task with mechanical indifference—a bizarre reminder that justice’s a motherfucker… and as for memories of them, there ain’t no guarantee either.

In the sterile chill of the execution chamber, Dr. Percy moves like a shadow. His steps are light, purposeful, and filled with a macabre elegance that belies the horror about to unfold. The room itself, while meticulously clean, carries the weight of a thousand deaths—each more grotesque than the last. The faint hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitors create a evocative symphony, punctuated only by the occasional clink of metal instruments on the nearby tray. This is his stage, and he, the executioner, is ready for his grotesque performance.

Dr. Percy, ever the specter in this grim theatre, moves