A man sat alone in a cell that he once oversaw; awaiting his last dawn. The cell was bare and yet functional, more a product of his own efforts rather than any inherent compassion of the regime he served. There was a form of clarity that came when you realised just how few breaths you had left, when you could feel the sands in Death’s Hourglass slipping away. Unfortunately despite the sudden value of his remaining time he could find no way to spend it other than contemplate his choices and wonder if there was any other way that this whole thing could have turned out.

The crack of dawn announced itself by firing spears of light through the windows announcing that his few grains of sand had nearly run out. A sudden clack-clack of steel tipped boots on the stone hallway touched his ears and he felt a momentary panic before he calmed himself down. His last meeting wasn’t scheduled just yet; this couldn’t be them taking him away yet. His suspicions were proved a moment later when young man dressed in the standard outfit of the regime; namely black dress coat over black long pants and black dress shoes. Not the most practical for any form of combat, but how much combat did you get to do this far away from the frontline.

“Package for Prisoner 44444,” the man said dispassionately as he held up a box. One of the two guards on either side of the walls walked to the gate before slowly opening it up. Contrary to the stylish black look of their superior officer the lower ranking members wore military outfits of a dark mustard colour that looked far less attractive. The man walked into the cell with no fear despite the situation handing over the box like it physically repulsed him.

“Thanks, I suppose,” the prisoner said looking indifferently at the man. There was a slight resemblance between the two of them that could be picked up by anybody with any level of savviness.

“Don’t thank me,” the man said emphasising the first word. “If I had my way they would have just shot you already without going through all the formal procedures. Do you know how much trouble your uncle was in back at the Capital?”

“Probably less than me,” the prisoner said gesturing at his red-prison outfit.

“Right,” the man in black said disdainfully. “What were you thinking? You have no idea how many people you let down.”

“I was thinking of the people that I saved,” the prisoner admitted.

“You think they won’t recapture them?” the man in black said disdainfully. “We’ve already caught more than a couple. Do you think the treatment of escaping prisoners will be gentle?”

“Do you think the treatment of those that remained behind will be?” the prisoner said, receiving silence in reply. “I’ve heard the stories.” The silence stretched on until the visiting man sighed.

“Was it worth it?” the man in black said.

“Would it make any difference if I said it wasn’t,” the prisoner stated.

“It wouldn’t,” the man in black stated. “Put on your clothes. In two hours the execution will commence. You should at least be dressed as a member of the Strauss family even if you are incapable of acting like one.”

“Does that package include my favourite coat,” the prisoner asked.

“That ratty old garment,” the man in black responded. “No, that thing wasn’t included.”

“Pity,” the prisoner said more to himself than his visitor. “That was the first piece of clothing I ever purchased with my money.”

“With the job that your Uncle got you,” the man in black said refusing to let that point go. “Never mind,” he said shaking his head. “It’s far too late for that.” He turned away from the prisoner to leave the cell.

“That it is,” the prisoner said. “Good luck for the future, Darren.” The man paused at that.

“Good luck with whatever comes after,” the man in black said. “I hope that whoever judges you shares your views.” The only response to that was a half-smile from the prisoner before the man in black left the room.

With shaky hands the prisoner undid the twine and opened the box made of stiff cardboard. Inside was a stylish outfit much like his visitor with the inclusion of a black knee-length loose trench coat with gleaming silver buttons. It looked like a more expensive and newer version of his old coat. The look was completed with a black military cap. It wasn’t really his thing, he had never been in the military; would never be in the military; and black wasn’t his colour anyway. He quickly stripped down and redressed into the uniform, finding it surprisingly comfortable. It was good to see that at least some of the expense that was used in the making of this one-use outfit would go towards his comfort.

Putting on the outfit he finished buttoning the cuffs before he felt a flash of pain and heard the soft sound of something clattering to the ground. One of the guards looked back at the noise and he immediately placed his shoe over the object while trying to wave off the pain coming from his hand. There were a few drops of blood forming on the tip of his left thumb and he waited until the guard had turned his head away before he licked the blood off and bent down to look at the object.

On the floor was an n-shaped badge that gleamed cold silver; with the detailed image of a key in chains upon it. He wasn’t an engraver himself or even a person who cared very much for the finer things in life but he could easily tell the almost inhuman precision that had gone into the badge. Still, the symbol wasn’t familiar to him and there was no reason for his family to put it in with the outfit. It wasn’t as if he’d appreciate the details and even if it was his sort of thing he wouldn’t appreciate them for much longer.

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He thought about returning it for a moment as he turned it over. It’s not as if it wouldn’t be retrieved from his body afterwards. Strangely enough there were no sharp edges on the badge and especially not anything that could prick his skin. He slipped it inside a pocket as he continued to watch the sunrise.

Potential Warden identified. Records of Potential Warden accessed.

“What,” he said to himself as his mind blanked out for a brief moment. For a brief instant he thought he heard a voice and his head now had that lightheaded like he hadn’t had enough sleep in a while which was absurd. He had probably slept more than he ever had in his life recently. It’s not like he had much else to do. Even his impending end wasn’t enough to ruin his sleep after a while although he did recently gain those black bags under his eyes. Still it wouldn’t do for him to faint before his execution; knowing the current people in charge they would fix him up before marching him right back to the firing squad.

Footsteps suddenly dragged him out of his ruminations and he frowned. It surely couldn’t have been two hours. A quick glance at the sun showed that more time had passed than he expected. How unfortunate, a large amount of his remaining breaths just slipped out from under him.

“It’s time,” a bald man in a pure white coat said. His eyes weren’t visible through a pair of sunglasses worn despite the low light. He unlocked the cell door and held it open waiting for the prisoner to step out of his own accord.

“Okay,” the prisoner said. He tried to reach for a witty comment or clever statement but he came up empty, his voice filled with a tired resignation. He had made a choice and this was the natural culmination of his choice. Whatever his thoughts or justifications were it would not make a difference to the outcome. He had no need to play nice or desire to make their job more difficult.

Potential Warden’s ethical qualifications have been assessed. Passing grade has been awarded.

He stumbled as another wave of light-headedness struck but managed to keep his step as he walked out of the now empty cell. These bouts of light-headedness were annoying but considering how he expected the rest of the day to go it would feel petty complaining about them. The two men in mustard uniforms flanked him as he stepped out but did not deliberately touch him while the man in white walked ahead showing him the way to the Wall.

Not that he needed to know the way, he had walked these corridors a dozen times already watching the people imprisoned in here and wondering just what choices had led them to their incarceration. Was it done in glee, desperation, sheer malice or was there a more inevitable reason. Sheer misfortune, a hated enemy or simply being born to the wrong families were all reasons forwhich people had been sent here. If ever there was something noble about this building it had long been perverted by humans.

Potential Warden’s mental capabilities have been assessed. Passing grade has been awarded.

Ahead of him the man in white opened up a door leading to a fierce sunlight that caused him to block his eyes momentarily as that light-headedness peaked as he paused for a moment to regain his step. He didn’t flinch then and he wouldn’t flinch now. He just had to keep it up for a few minutes and then he would never have to worry about this ever again.

With his head held high he stepped out into the courtyard hearing whispers that immediately paused as soon as he arrived. A half-dozen ‘men of quality’ were seated on chairs in a box overlooking the courtyard, a mix of military, nobility and the Party; a trifecta of organisations that he abhorred.

“Reginald Strauss you have been found guilty of the unauthorised release of dangerous prisoners and aiding and abetting their escape from the country,” a member of the trifecta said as he stood up to general silence. “Your actions have led to an increase in the enemies of the state and may have impacted the war effort. If you have reflected on your actions and wish to lighten your guilt before you die you may confess details of your sins now and we may take the improved evidence now into consideration and lighten the sentence against you.”

“Nothing,” the prisoner said. His execution was already set in stone, just a few more minutes and all this would be a thing of the past.

“Your silence shows how unsuited for the job you were in the first place,” another one of the men scoffed. “I will have to have a word about your Family after this. Maybe the Strauss isn’t as loyal as they have been purported to be.” It was an empty threat and one that wouldn’t stir him even if it wasn’t; he had lost a lot of pride in his family over the past few years.

Potential Warden’s rationality has been assessed. Passing grade has been awarded.

“Alright Chaplain you may give the final rites,” the first speaker said sitting down again.

“Reginald Strauss__” the Chaplain began only for the prisoner to hold up a hand stalling him.

“If you don’t mind I’m rather cool on religion at the moment,” he said and he could hear the almost audible gasp, followed by angry muttering, which he could not care less about. “If you don’t mind can we just skip to the part where you shoot me?”

“Young man,” the Chaplain stated looking both flustered and angry. “This is about your eternal soul. This is about your redemption for your sins.” If his sins were to be judged it would not be by the likes of all of them.

“Redemption isn’t about a few cheap words,” he said out loud making the man bristle as he held up his holy book. “It’s an ongoing process that requires hard work and perseverance. Not something that the likes of you would have ever experienced. Now please shoot me.”

‘Fair enough,” the priest said looking at him as if he was scum before stepping back as he was led off to the wall. He politely rejected the blindfold as he stared down the people who would be taking his life in a minute. If he was going to die then he would like to at least see what killed him. Guns were loaded and held at attention as a sergeant stood to the side.

“Ready,” the sergeant called out.

Potential Warden’s prospects have been assessed. Passing grade has been awarded.

“3,” the men took up a firing stance.

“2,” the guns aimed at him.

“1,” fingers brushed against the triggers.

Potential Warden test has been fully passed. Title upgraded to Provisional Warden. Summoning commenced.

“Fi__” the words died in the sergeant’s throat as bullets buried themselves in the wall easily passing through the space that the prisoner once occupied.