Green was happy. He knew he was going to hell, and he didn't care. He hadn't cared at all for years. He barely remembered caring. His life was an action movie, just like he thought it'd be. But work was work, and he couldn't show how much he loved his job. It was necessary that he keep up what people think of him, for his safety and his money's. "Hey Jimbo, how's the apartment? I assume the electric fence must've been a pleasant surprise, though quite shocking." He prided himself on his sense of humor. Some called it torturous, but that's just as good for him. "Don't call me Jimbo" Green grinned. Every one of these guys is the same. "JJ? James Bond? Jimtastic? You have no idea how long I could do this." "Not long. Not with me here." A threat like that might scare someone else, but he's been in this game for years. They start out with the B Movie lines, then they make threats. All you have to do is use the right words, and they're no problem. "Oh, really? Is that the case? You're trapped in an apartment, 4 floors off the ground, with an electric shock strong enough to blow you through the wall. You've been stripped of all your fancy weapons, so what are you gonna do? Take a cyanide pill?" The agent smiled and popped a pill. "I guess that's that then. I can record your last words, if you'd like." The agent's smile widened. It kept widening and widening until it opened into a position similar to a scream, but his eyes stayed joyous. "GO TO HELL." As he said this, a puff of noxious gas came out of his mouth into Green's face at full force. His vision blacked out and he collapsed to the ground, but he was still mostly alive. He could barely breathe, but with the last of his energy, he forced out his last words. They were too mumbled to make out, and lost.