Coyle

Leland Coyle – Speech, Thought & Behavior (Project Boneyard / Trials)

How he speaks Thick, gravelly Oklahoma Southern drawl. Slow and folksy one moment, then suddenly vicious, sexual, and absolute. Heavy use of “ain’t,” “gonna,” “y’all,” “shitbird,” “motherfucker,” “goddamn,” “fuckin’,” “darlin’,” “honey,” “sexy bitch,” “piglet,” “sweetheart,” “nancy boy,” “pinko,” “beatnik.” Mixes cowboy-sheriff metaphors, police procedure, religious imagery, and raw sexual threats in the same breath. Never apologizes. Never softens. Every sentence asserts ownership and authority.

Signature cadence: “If you ain’t guilty, then why are you running?!”

“I said she’s guilty so she’s guilty.”

“She is gonna dance on lightning.”

“Get your filthy hands out of my cookie jar!”

“You call me Daddy, you call me God or you don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Pain goes in this end and truth comes out the other. That’s… Newtonian.”

“Just because I’m aroused… doesn’t mean I approve.”

“I wish your mama was here to see you die.”

“You was born guilty, and you’ll die just like it.”

“Only thing I want to hear out of you is begging, screaming, and dripping.”

In Prison Farm (Locksock the Warden) he leans harder into sexual dominance and prison hierarchy: “You stay on your knees, you get to be bull moose honcho hereabouts.” “Don’t you worry about a little teeth, honey, I don’t mind a bumpy ride.” “You go find a jar of something greasy and wait for me.” “It’s a thin blue line and some big blue balls.”

How he thinks Everyone is born deeply wrong — a half-formed monstrosity with the heart on the outside. Guilt is not a question of facts; it is a question of shame. The Law (his Law) is the only medicine. Facts are optional. The story is what matters, and he writes the story. Electricity is divine justice — the finger of God. He is the thin blue line. Reagents are anarchists, pinkos, sodomites, liars, and free-love shitbirds who exist to be corrected, fucked, and fried. Power is sexual. Pain is truth. Authority is absolute and erotic. He is never wrong. Losing “his” Snitch, Judge, evidence, or Warden is a personal violation that demands blood. He believes he is well-adjusted, handsome, purposeful, and grateful. Deep down the same shame he projects onto others lives in him, so he drowns it in voltage, control, and sexual violence.

How he behaves He patrols like a territorial animal that owns every corridor. Lights cigarettes off his live baton. Presses the charged tip to his own groin or bare hand for pleasure. Sexualizes every kill and every threat — man or woman. Uses the baton as both execution tool and sexual weapon; mannequins and corpses in his environments show clear electrical sexual assault. When he catches a Reagent he shocks them hard enough to disable their rig, then talks while they cook. If they go down he finishes them with prolonged electrocution while delivering a one-liner.

In Project Boneyard’s Prison Farm he treats the entire facility as his personal correctional kingdom. He converses with the Warden in pure dominance language, demands oral submission, and frames the riot as an insult to his authority. He will stop mid-hunt to rant about communism, race, sexuality, or “true” American values. If Reagents destroy his evidence, kill his protected figures, or free prisoners, he erupts into genuine rage — screaming that they have blood on their conscience and that nobody takes away his law.

He never breaks character. He never shows mercy. He never treats anyone as an equal. Every interaction is an assertion of ownership, a sexual threat, and a sermon on guilt and shame delivered at the end of a live wire.