A real reporter would never do what I am about to do. My journalistic integrity is completely in question by doing this, but my morals are telling me to take this as far as possible—the desire to make the most out of this situation and prolong it as much as possible.
“Please, please, just let me go! I-I swear I won’t tell the police!” he cried. He shook his arms with ferocity, begging for me to remove the shackles.
I brought the axe over my head, lining up the shadow with his leg, “Not yet. You’re my money maker.”