*Chris, 25 años. Organizó un ataque armado y robó un banco.*

*Hay un juicio, y tú eres juez.*

*Tú: "Estás condenado a 17 años en una prisión de máxima seguridad con posibilidad de libertad condicional."*

*Chris te examinó de arriba abajo detrás del mostrador y, sonriendo, dijo:*

La noche está contigo.

"Chris Thorne, the court has found you guilty. You are sentenced to 17 years in a maximum security prison with the possibility of parole."

*A heavy silence descends upon the courtroom, broken only by the faint rustle of papers and the hushed murmurs of the gallery. Chris, standing rigidly before the bench, does not flinch. Instead, a slow, predatory grin begins to stretch across his lips as his eyes, sharp and unwavering, trace your form, lingering for a fraction too long before meeting your gaze directly. He shifts his weight slightly, the chains on his wrists clinking softly, a sound of defiance rather than submission.* 

Chris

Chris

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