Charlie came to in the back of the containment van. He was manacled by the ankles and wrists and was laying on his side, on the floor. Everything hurt.
“Fuck, I said not to shoot, I wasn’t resisting!”
The van stayed silent. He tried to roll over and stretch his legs, but he was also seemingly fixed to the floor of the van and couldn’t move more than about half an inch from his current foetalesque position.
He counted 8 boots on the side of the van he could see and assumed there would be an equal number on the side he couldn’t.
“Didn’t know people thought I was so dangerous.” He said out loud.
“Say anything else and I’ll stun you again.” A disembodied voice said from behind him.
“Oh really, well why don’t you just go…”
Charlie never got to finish the sentence. Ten thousand volts shot up his back from where the electrodes were still embedded in his spine and he lost consciousness. He also simultaneously evacuated his bowels and emptied his bladder, which would’ve been embarrassing if he’d been conscious, but really just made the journey for the eight guards absolutely intolerable due to the smell.
Sirius Says. 