Jon sat cross-legged against the wall of his cell, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face. It was the second week of his detainment, and he could already feel himself slipping away. Time seemed to trudge at a snails pace, food came at too long of intervals to be considered "healthy," and Jon felt completely and utterly grotty in the murky garb given to him. 

[i]No regrets, Jon,[/i] the rebellious young man thought to himself. [i] Someone had to take the fall. Needs of the many and all that jazz....[/i] Jon perked his head up as the doors of his cell sprung open, and he grimaced as he noticed two guards approaching him. 

"My my, what brings the pigs from their sty?" Jon said with a cheeky smirk, his voice hoarse from dehydration. The guards paid no mind to Jon's words; Jon had more than once heckled the guards, and the beatings that the guards usually gave afterwords gave them no reason to be afraid of this weak peasant of a boy. Stoically, the guards took Jon by his arms and forced him to his feet. 

"I wouldn't be smiling, Hanson," one of the guards murmured as Jon was led out of his cell and down a hallway. "Where you're goin', I think you'll finally learn to mind your manners."

"Oh? Where would that be?"

"Hell, Hanson." The second guard chuckled and tsk'd at the pathetic little man that was Jon. Jon had paid no mind to their insults, hell even before he was detained the guards would pass him the occasional jab or kick to the side. [i] Along with everyone else in the commons...I hope the people rise up and burn these suckers.[/i]

"Any place is better than here with you filth," Jon replied as the guards pushed him forward with more force. "I'd ask if you were proud of me for moving on, that is, until I remembered that you pieces of trash have no pride..."

The butt end of a guard's rifle met Jon's nose, and the prisoner collapsed to the ground. Jon's world was fading, his vision now blurred and his hearing was muffled. He could hear the distorted voices of the guards as they picked him up, no doubt saying something cheeky to add insult to injury. But there was also something else in the background. He couldn't make out everything that was being broadcasted, be he swore he could of heard the uttering of the word "Earth..."

[i] If these assholes are going to execute me, they better do it quickly,[/i] Jon tried to utter his thoughts into words, but the force of the blow along with his already weakened state made it impossible to shake himself out of his dazed trance. Jon blanked, but awoke and found himself being thrown into a shuttle's seat. [i] What the hell is going on? [/i]

Jon brought his hands up to his nose, feeling a sharp pain and noticing blood on his fingers. [i] Broken...[/i] Jon looked around the shuttle and saw what appeared to be dozens of his fellow prisoners also being forcefully strapped into seats. To add salt to the wound, situated right next to Jon was...

[b]"Damn You!"[/b]

[i] Cleon? Oh brother...[/i] Jon slumped over, letting the blood drip from his nose. [i] Wherever we're going, this is going to be one hell of a trip...[/i]