[Center][h2]Dakota Rhett[/h2]
[sub]November 29th? - ???[/sub]
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[/Center]

Dakota's naive view became shattered faster than he could've imagined.

Eyes widening as a figure crossed in the corner of his eye, the commotion didn't escape him. He watched as Vincent made a run for it, something either a really brave or really stupid person would do. That being said, the boy recalled the tall man's comments about the cops from when they were in the gazebo. Whatever his case was, this hellscape sounded like a better option to them than complying over a huge misunderstanding. 

In that sense, Dakota pitied him. Though he easily learned his place as the captain's baton essentially shattered the part of the heavy-duty dock it came into contact with. If his eyes widened any further, they would've potentially popped out of his skull. A drop of sweat slowly made it's way down his forehead, causing his eyes to squint to keep the liquid out of his eye without making movements to anger the guard behind him. They couldn't do anything about that guy, they just had to resolve this peacefully. All that commotion and he didn't move a muscle unless shoved: That was clear enough sign of his intent, right?

Wrong.

At the captain's words, Dakota felt himself go pale. "What?" was all he managed, an odd sense of betrayal coursing through him as he felt the baton of the guard behind him jab into his back. Audible pain escaped him through gritted teeth, though that wasn't even the worst of it. Feeling an odd tug, his eyes shot upward and quickly realized that his large head of hair came back to haunt him: His sheer difference in height with the menacing guards had him practically hoisted by it, a second hand gripping the back of his neck. His legs momentarily kicked as they left the ground, but that was quickly silenced by a crack of the baton against his torso. He almost vomited from the blow, a large stinging feeling overcoming the rest of the pain as his feet planted back on the ground. "Wh-What the hell? None of us tried anything--" As it wasn't a sign that he wasn't going to, Dakota earned himself a second swing directly into his scrawny center-mase, which did cause him to vomit.

Burning in his throat, he gasped out what words he could muster. "Okay! I'm not running, [i]just stop![/i]" His begging was enough to finally feel a release on his hair, but it unfortunately lead to him watching the others receive the same treatment as he tried to breathe. The awful taste in his mouth only made it worse, but the idea that they struck everybody, even that girl that looked like nothing more than a child, caused him to visibly shake. The guardsman could feel his anger, surely, and pressed a familiar baton in his back yet again, a slow spinning motion against his skin causing pain that was minor in comparison to everything else, but made him realize his place.

[i]'Maybe that guy had the right idea.'[/i] Dakota thought to himself, coughing and spitting to try and get the vomit taste out of his mouth as he was forced to march onwards. He felt weak, but at the same time, that anger he felt kept burning inside him. He glared forward, eyes narrow but focused. Whatever peace he felt could be found in this situation was now shattered, and what he'd just gone through and witnessed made him want nothing more than to make these guards pay for the unnecessary cruelty. But with how he was now, there wasn't a way to do anything. If he tried, everyone would probably just get beat again. He didn't want to even risk that.

So he kept walking. Feet carrying him to the prison. The sight inside was somehow worse than outside, though with him being out of it after the strikes he'd taken, he only gave the situation as a whole a few glances. But that was enough to see people being funneled to desks, and seeming to have... Something injected into them, with money being [i]sucked[/i] out of them. Dakota simply added to the discomforting silence, at an utter loss for words. The idea crossed his mind that it must've taken a lot to keep people quiet in a situation like this. Though with how he had just been manhandled he figured the actual prisoners probably received much worse on the regular. Was this really acceptable to them, in one way or another? This seemed to cross boundaries Dakota hadn't even thought about existing until now. There was an extent to cruelty in his mind, and this far crossed it. 

The inside of the Courthouse didn't calm Dakota at all. The amazing condition of the place compared to the dark and ruined hell outside was notable, but the piling problems in his mind kept him from even finding a moment of peace. He would've keeled over, if a guard didn't grip him and force him to stand back up. A part of him wanted to understand why, and how, this was all happening. And another part wanted it all to disappear. His gaze shot around to everyone else, frowning as he tried to think of anything he could possibly say. His previous concerns were flipped now, everyone had gotten hurt. He was starting to feel as hollow inside as these guards' looked with their grotesque faces.

The appearance of 'his honor' was a sight, for sure. His face felt a bit familiar, but his whole attire was a bit over the top. And that was coming from the guy with orange highlights. Listening to the conversation yielded a bit of information: Vincent got caught. Not a surprise, but the idea of all that pain being for nothing was frustrating. Still, he was probably hurting worse for it. Which, especially for him, was unfortunate. Add onto that the prisoners outside being called 'stock' and this situation was slowly deteriorating more and more.

At least this man sounded more reasonable than his guards. Dakota weakly took a step forward, still shaking, but trying his best anyways. What more was there to do, then try to explain that this wasn't an intentional act? "Your honor," He found it slightly difficult to carry his words with the sickly taste in his mouth. He had no choice but to swallow it now, as he couldn't imagine the beating he'd get for spitting on these floors. "It's absurd, but... We kind of fell. From the sky." The void sky from before filled his mind, and while it sounded stupid, that naive part of Dakota still wanted to just be honest so he continued: "We were just gathered in a spot, following after these weird cracks in the ground. And before we knew it, they split open wide and we fell in." He used two fingers atop of his other hand like legs, splitting his fingers to show the legs plummeting. "We landed on that dock. A few of us ere injured, and really, all we want to do is get home. Sir." He brightened for a moment, noting he still had his phone. Of course! He wasn't a lawyer, or anything, but trials needed evidence, right? He had a huge piece of it!

"I-I even have proof it happened!" He said, raising his phone like a desperate offering after opening the video again. His eyes, clearly distressed from pain but also determined to attempt to get through this, kept focused on the man in front of them. They slightly twitched as he tried to contain any noise regarding his pain, but he stood as straight and readied as he could. God, there might've been a chance to get out of this yet! But after the reality check he'd received earlier, he was terrified that he was just about to be hurt again.