You find yourself in a jail cell. It's the bare minimum, just like you've seen in movies. You're lying on a cot bed that's been pulled down from the wall, only a blanket to cover you. A thin one at that. In the far corner there's a metallic toilet with no seat. You look at it with disgust hoping you don't have to use it.
You sit up trying to get your bearings. The front of the cell contains an iron door, closed and locked, a small hatch at the bottom which allowed them to feed you and talk to you.
As if on cue the hatch opens and a tray is shoved through. It contains a carton of juice and a plate of something you can't recognise. You're not hungry and leave it where it is.
You spend the next few hours brooding on your situation, reminding yourself you're somewhere different. You're not at home anymore. We're not in Kansas anymore. You can only hope that things will have a good ending.
Just then the jail cell door is unlocked. A burly man in a uniform handcuffs you and tells you to follow him for...
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