A dark dungeon glimmers with blue fluorescent lights as two shadows glide across the bland metal wall, decorated only by portraits of the President, A half Mechanical, expressionless man with sunken eyes replaced by two soulless visors.
Two men emerge from the shadows, dressed in Navy-Blue uniforms, containing a striped red and blue flag with one large star framed in the middle.
“So, how many today?” The Guard declared with his robust voice, adorned with a breathing contraption wrapped around the throat like a collar, not unlike his partner.
“Sadly, five,” said the Warden, who was far more intimidating with his ghoulish, almost emaciated demeanor.
“Just five?! The Guard exclaimed, “that’s…unfortunate.”
“I know,” smiled The Warden, “but still, today will be an exciting demonstration.”
“I’ll say,” The Guard clenched his fist up as the sound of the leather glove tightening ripples throughout the dim chamber, giddy with anticipation, “I have been waiting all day.”
“It’s odd,” The Warden conceded, “I don’t understand why people commit such heinous crimes.” “Right? It’s insane, what were these men thinking?”
“They weren’t,” the Warden adds as both men laugh outrageously. “They weren’t what?”
“Thinking,” the Warden firmly stated as the two men continue down the narrow path, passing different doorways of misery.
The Warden withdraws a small booklet from his breast pocket and starts flipping through them. “Man, I love these dungeons,” The Guard yawns, “so relaxing.”
The Warden suddenly stops, comparing the notes in his booklet to the number plastered above a particular cell, “first thing’s first.”
“Is he part of the demonstration?” The Guard points to the shivering mess, huddled in the corner of his cell, drowned in his one excrement.
“No, of course not,” the Warden added casually, “look at him – the only good thing he inspires is proper hygiene. No, his trial sadly starts and ends in this cell.”