| rdfs:comment | - The sun had set already. The people of the Town moved along the paths and streets of a lamp-lit Salem after the town's afternoon meeting. One figure, his hand moving to turn the doorknob to his house, had suddenly found himself in a blindfold and handcuffs. With no chance of resistance, he was hauled away under the cover of darkness. He would not be in his bed that night, nor out doing his duty. Instead, he would find himself tossed into a pitiful jail cell. Stone walls, a small cot, and a bucket were the only material inside. "It wasn't you." (credit)
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| abstract | - The sun had set already. The people of the Town moved along the paths and streets of a lamp-lit Salem after the town's afternoon meeting. One figure, his hand moving to turn the doorknob to his house, had suddenly found himself in a blindfold and handcuffs. With no chance of resistance, he was hauled away under the cover of darkness. He would not be in his bed that night, nor out doing his duty. Instead, he would find himself tossed into a pitiful jail cell. Stone walls, a small cot, and a bucket were the only material inside. After a long and dreadful wait, the barred window of the cell's only metal door let through a voice in a sovereign tone. "What is your role in this mess?" The figure, alone in the cell, sweats and looks from the cell door back up towards the bars. The voice sounds again, compelling and potent in its ultimatum, "Make your claim, or you will die here." Handcuffed and nervous, he calls out, "I-I'm the Doctor! I was only trying to help someone!" It didn't work. He could hear the sound of a gun being taken out of its holster. The sovereign voice of the Jailor sounds again. "...I had a visit from the Doc' yesterday." The door opens. A pistol points at the cuffed figure inside the cell. "It wasn't you." (credit)
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