A searing fire rages beneath an intimidating statue of a bronze bull. A door is situated on the bull’s side and a man is thrown in unceremoniously.

The innards are hollow with only a small pipe protruding into the stomach to allow for screams to flow out and morph into the grunts of an animal.

The floor beneath the criminal glows a hellish red as the skin of his hands peels off. He needs to scream, he wants to scream, he’s in too much pain to fathom but he doesn’t.

He bites into the flesh of his arm so hard blood drips down his skin, sizzling as it hits the hot surface. 

The Emperor and the crowd look on in confusion as they question why the bull is making no sound.

“It’s no fun without sound, fix it at once,” he orders as his guards pull open the door.

Within moments the criminal forces his way out and falls to the ground with a thump, only then does he allow himself the freedom to scream out in agony.

Upon realising what happened the Emperor raises an eyebrow, impressed by the man’s resilience. He doesn’t pardon him for his crimes. He’s not that reasonable, but he does change his sentence to a quicker-less painful death. Of which I’m sure the criminal was eternally grateful for.