Death Sentence

Watertown, Massachussetts. 1895

The sudden sharp light above your head jolts you back into consciousness. You must have been asleep for what feels like a century. A careless mistake, that's all it took. That was all they needed to take you down as a group. One simple slip up as you attempted to make your escape, and they managed to get the upper hand on you and take you down. And now you're here, ready to fry on this new contraption they call 'the electric chair.'

"Ya deserve far worse for what ya did if you ask me. You are a sick monster. No doubt sent by Satan himself. May those poor children rest in peace."

A stocky man with a big coat and rubber gloves chastizes you. The look of pure anger in his face is enough to tell you that he doesn't plan to show you any mercy. The cuffs around your hands holding you to the chair are brittle and weak. An issue they must not have expected, since this machine is only a few years old and leaves plenty of room for error. You are given a few minutes to think about what you did. You just had to start with the school. It was in plain sight as you walked into the city. Such an eye sore, zero funding. You did them a favor burning that piece of crap to the ground. The memory of those innocent youths clouds your mind. The gagging to death on smoke, the ones who couldn't escape - the lucky ones. The ones who got out, you had far worse in mind for them. So riveting, such a rush. It never gets old! The urge to do it again strikes at your core, if only you weren't here. 

You might not have to be anymore. The brittle cuffs holding you down would surely break upon your enhanced strength. You have nothing to lose, afterall. But perhaps it may be time to give it a rest for now and go meet your maker.