"Lost". If you know where you are, can you truly say you are lost, or do you just wish you were someplace else?
Alternatives are "Tension", "Relief", "Guillotine" and "Paranoia".
The years of existence in such a tightly wound and overly deregulated world, was that things would continue to wound down and down, till eventually...The tension would release itself. One side won, one side had lost.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!”
Ten shots. One side had lost. The bag was one way, you could look at the people shooting you, but they couldn't see your face. That was how things had to be, that was the way things were meant to be all this time. No behead, no guillotine, just the firing squad. Quick, fast, clean, instant death, and it cost less then 10 dollars an execution. No electric chair, no screaming, no shaking, no poison, no choking for three hours. Just ten men and women, ten rifles, ten shots.
“For the crime of taking expired meat, and mixing it in with healthy meat, for the purpose of reselling it, you are declared a traitor. We have proven before a jury that you were the ring-leader of this operation, and that two people died because of your failure. You are a disgrace and declared a level 3 Trasonist. We don't have enough hard labor to go around, so punishment is death.”
The man was dragged by two people and then pushed onto their knees. One way bag over his head, feet and hands were bond. He wasn't able to walk here, they had to drag him. It was up to him, if he would look up at them or hang his head in disgrace.
