[h3][b][color=blue]Alina Sanford[/color][/b][/h3]
Alina had been kind of out of it since getting cracked across the ankle, a couple of times even. She was aware that most of the others were appalled by the hobbling of all and sundry, and that it was the one homeless guy's fault for trying to escape, but she couldn't blame him for it. He was stronger willed than her, that was for sure; she hadn't even tried to resist. She couldn't do it. But the pain... she could feel something twinge sharply in her ankle every time she took a step. She hoped it was just a trapped nerve.

She returned to full awareness about as they reached their destination. In the end, it was President Myron Pondwater who proved to be the warden, and evidently the judge, of the prison - but some weird version of him, with one discomforting yellow eye peering out and all that garb. No... the outfit was the same as usual. Just warped. And enough people had questions, alongside the dumped and beaten form of the runner from before, that Alina couldn't say anything about the matter for a time. And... they were here of their own will? That- she-

'No.'

Why do that, Alina? Why did she say anything? What was "no" going to accomplish? This man, he didn't care about whether they lived or died, or anything even vaguely resembling justice, he just wanted to put them on trial and ruin them!

Now they were all going to die because of her. She should have just kept it shut and done as she was told. What came next was her fault.