her theft does not go unnoticed, but then... she didn't really expect it to. everything here is an experiment, as she tries to decipher the rules and regulations so she can figure out just what sort of situation they're in and how to get out. the toxic chain isn't even necessary to get her to oblige removing the shard, and as she's hoisted in the air, she uses the opportunity to take a good look at the rest of the ward. her expression is blank as she scans it, looking for any signs of weakness.

then the screen lights up. maki watches with indifference as the pokeballs flash through, each being crushed until it reaches her own. her aurorus shows briefly, just moments before it, too, is smashed. the cries of pain and dismay can be heard around the ward as each ball is smashed, but maki remains silent for hers as she ponders this.

when she is released, she falls to the ground and then sits up, still thinking. "...either it's all a show of force with nothing behind it, or... our pokemon are indeed here," she muses quietly. either way, she sees something of a positive in this. one of her pokemon may be gone, but she has five left. if she can just determine a way to reach them, then she can fight back.

the trust or forsake game gives her pause. she rifles through her list of "appropriate reactions" in her head, but comes up blank. 'forsake' is obviously the correct answer, but saying as much goes against her disguise as the yukimura's caring young daughter. her cellmate votes to forsake, and maki stands up. "i won't participate in such a barbaric game," she states, turning away. there. my vote has been cast as forsake. with nobody the wiser for it, too. let them think she's truly an idiot, if they must.

Oscar did not hear Navy's earlier thanks. He was far too busy polishing as many crystals as he could, continuously sliding more and more into Navy's pile to make it seem like the ill man was doing more than he actually was. Oscar did not know what was possessing him, this effort was likely futile. After all, the wardens may be fully aware of his trick--and once again what did he care if Navy died? Oscar shook his head to dismiss his negative thoughts, he was beyond that point now. All he knew was that Navy got the short end of a really shitty stick, it was unfair and unjust. If this man was to die, he should at least be able to regain his full strength so that he could actually put up a fight. Though, was that even possible here?

Their warden ceased their work with a staggering shriek, and Oscar would finally allow himself to rest. His hands already felt stiff, and he would attempt to massage them as the results of their labors were announced. Apparently Ugly did the best, as they all stayed in line like model prisoners. Oscar grimaced behind his mask, almost ashamed of his own complacency. It was alright, the time to rebel would appear soon enough.

Insubordinate prisoners were punished, and Oscar would recognize a handful of them. The traitors Johanna Joy and Isaac Merlo discernible from their hair alone, and poor Shred could never hide his mangled body. He gained no satisfaction from watching the 'thieves' suffer. As far as he could tell, it was all showboating to keep the prisoners in line.

The chains of those within the Ugly Ward began to meld together, with Oscar's fusing with Navy's rather snugly. It was time for them to claim their 'reward', so Oscar would provide support for his ailing companion so that they may join the others. While supporting Navy with one of his shoulders, Oscar would grab a hold of the first outreaching hand he came across. Unbeknownst to him, this was the hand of his closest friend: priam conrad. So close, yet unaware--such a tragedy.

As the prisoners gathered, the Ugly Ward would be presented with a choice: Which of the other wards deserved to be punished? Before Oscar could even think about it, Navy would announce that the Ugly Ward should be punished. Oscar suddenly felt a lot of cold eyes on him, and sweat began to fall from the top of his forehead. Sure they were looking at Navy, but Oscar was the one propping the guy up.

A voice that Oscar recognized as belonging to Elisabeth Fiorelli reprimanded, and Oscar found himself wishing to defend his chosen charge. After all, if Navy's head was on the chopping block--well it did not spell good things for Oscar. "He's really sick, been hallucinating this whole time. Poor guy hardly knows what's happening." Oscar chuckled nervously as he pulled Navy closer to his head to deliver a whisper.

"Hey I know you didn't ask for my help, but try not to make my efforts pointless by putting a target on your back. We gotta survive to make it to the other side, y'know?" Having heard the vote for the stranger whose hand he grabbed, Oscar nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Dummy sounds good."

tl;dr
--Oscar feels like a chump for being well behaved.
--Oscar helps Navy get around and unknowingly grabs the hand of best boy Priam.
--Oscar is put off by Navy's noble words and tries to course correct to save both of their asses.
--Oscar votes for the Dummy Ward.

Josh Devlin 's words left a permanent, chilling awe in the back of his mind after the initial shock subsided. Now he understood what had his superior so upset; to have a Legendary Pokemon taken away after such trials could leave anyone broken up over their loss. Before being forced to work, Michael gave an understanding nod to his cellmate and made a quiet vow.

"We will escape," Michael assured through a whisper to Josh who worked beside him. "We have to hold on to Hope. It might be the only thing that will help us in the end. Hold it tight, never let go."

The Okidogi's resounding howl echoed throughout the Weakling Ward. A signal to cease their labor. At least, that's the impression Michael got as he witnessed the other prisoners bringing their work to a halt. Silently, he prayed no one noticed the smuggled shard. He sought to keep it for nothing other than protection. Sure, a stray rock might have been better, but in the throes of his stress and survival instincts, Michael didn't think things through. He didn't realize how closely the Warden and guards watched the other prisoners. It would be a misjudgment he'd come to regret.

The TOXIC CHAINS forced Michael and the other thieves to produce the SHARDS they attempted to hide. Beatings commenced on all of them. Michael simply did his best to curl up defensively. Despite this, the Okidogi's brute strength sent shockwaves of pain through each connecting blow. The Cadet could swear that he felt his insides being torn to shreds by each concussive force. A spasm in Michael's diaphragm forced blood-coated saliva to spill into his mask with a cough. It seemed like this would go on forever.

The chains then hoisted the thieves up into the air like abused marionettes. Blood trickled down Michael's clothes and down to the ground below as crimson rain while a soft hint of iron wafted within his mask. He and others were on display for all to see as a reminder of the gaol's lack of tolerance for misbehavior.

Michael watched the crystalline screen through weary eyes. Tied up and suspended in the air, he remained powerless to stop the horror that would transpire. Each smashed Pokeball sent pangs of guilt and sorrow that felt like railroad ties being driven into his mind.

"No, stop this! They're innocent!" he begged.

Then, through tears that misted his visor, he saw the silhouette of a CHARMANDER; Eimyrja. A deep pit grew in his guts. His mind raced as he tried to struggle against the chains that bound him, damning the pain that tried to restrict his movements.

"Eimyrja, no...NO!"

Smash!

A raging storm of anger and resentment rolled into Michael's mind, washing away the fear and sorrow that plagued it before. He could not remember the last time he felt this deadly combination of emotions. He couldn't recall ever being truly this angered and rage-filled in his life. Most of all, he felt guilt. His actions led to his very first Pokemon, the Charmander who began this journey alongside him, being murdered. But despite what he saw, he refused to believe it was true. Be it out of hope or willful ignorance, the Ranger Cadet refused to take what he witnessed as the gospel. And yet, doubt remained.

Michael collapsed on the ground soon after the diabolical display. Still, he forced hismelf to his hands and knees. Tears continued to roll as his body shook with rage. When it came time to vote, Michael answered firmly and without hesitation. In his heart of hearts, he knew Eimyrja would make the same choice.

"You may try to break us, you may beat us until we can no longer move...I refuse to let you believe we are as horrible as you say. I will not condemn my fellow prisoners, no matter what you promise us with your honeyed words. I choose TRUST!"

Michael so desperately wished to collapse and wail a plaint of his sadness. But he knew he had to stay strong. Eimyrja would want him to stay strong no matter what. If she did truly perish, he needed to live. He refused to let her death be in vain.

---

Josh Devlin
TLDR:
-Micahel is beaten to a pulp
-Michael is forced to watch in horror the death of his STARTER Pokemon
-Despite everything, he chooses TRUST

Punished Pokemon:

No sooner than you hit the ground does the noose around your neck drag you upward. Yet it's not quite a hanging, is it? No, because as close to death as you might be, you've very much alive. The Toxic Chain provides just enough support to stop you from suffocating, but not enough to let you breathe clearly.

Limbo within limbo within limbo within limbo. You're shackled to the border, refused the freedom to live or die, forced to march to the beat of a drum you can't even hear. It's a real pain in the neck, not to mention all the other parts of you that hurt.

But the agony of your body is nothing compared to the agony that comes next.

Your chin is forced upward to face the ceiling of Tera Crystals, and your eyes go wide. Images flicker upon the glassy surface, projecting a scene so close yet so far. Though it may be wreathed in a facade of high-tech bullshit and Megalopolan aesthetic, your soul can immediately recognise it was for what it - Gallows. An electric chair. A guillotine. And as Pokeballs are brought to the chopping block, you catch a glimpse of the all-too-terrible future, and your eyes go wide with panic.

You struggle. You struggle and struggle and struggle. And yet, despite that, the future refuses to change. One by one, the Pokeballs are smashed to bits. And before you know it? It's your turn.

The screen flickers. A familiar hexagonal shape appears.

"NO."

A Pokeball is placed within the bowl.

"STOP IT. STOP IT!"

The hammer rises.

"PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD--"

"m-mr shred...?"

Smash. The hammers falls. The Pokeball is crushed.

"MELTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!"

Emotion tears through you like an explosion. Your howl of sheer pain echoes throughout the prison, and yet, it will never reach the outside. As the grip of the Toxic Chain loosens and you fall to the ground, a dozen emotions all wrestle for control of your volatile state of mind. Yet in the end, it's all too much to bear, and by the time you hit the stone floor, you're driven catatonic by the mania.

More than anything, in this moment, you want to die. You want to land on your neck and die in a instant. Alas, instead you land on your beaten back, and simply lay there like the corpse that Lulu Flint thought you were.

And then, as though your suffering were nothing more than a diversion, things are quickly moved along. A question is asked - Trust, or forsake? You don't answer. You can't answer.

And yet, for the cruel things that hold your chains, that alone is answer enough.

---

TL;DR - Shred gets punished. Does not take it well. Meltan is no more. Goes catatonic from emotional overload. Votes Forsake by default.
Lulu Flint

PRISMATIC PENITENTIARY

ft. a whole lotta noodle arms, dummies and uggies.

"Shove it." He snapped at priam conrad bluntly. "So far, we ain't thinking past what's in front of our noses."

The grinding of his teeth had hurt his jaw. The burned man's thrashing and screaming was still ringing in his ears. There were limits to what he could compartmentalize for the sake of a mission.

The carrot and the stick, a trick as old as time, was being efficiently wielded to beat both the spine and common sense out of all of them.

Shut up, keep your head down and play along while the warden was watching...

That was the plan. But, if he continued following it to the letter now, a woman who's voice he could recognize as Elisabeth Fiorelli would lead them all straight into the gallows. Of all things, a rocket underboss had to be with them. Given that rockets didn't usually have enough of a spine to openly go against their superior's words, they all may have already been well screwed.

Only time would tell what the Rocket-to-common-sense divide in the room was.

"Haaah... Are we so full of ourselves we think we'll win every time? Are we forgetting what's going on right now?" He said in his obviously fake and exaggerate galarian accent, raising his voice to be heard. He wasn't much of a public speaker, but whatever. "We're missing the forest for the bloody trees. As we speak, the other wards are having the most direct kind of communication we could have in this place."

Their voting? That was a two-sided comm. Whatever each side chose, it would communicate their intentions towards one another perfectly from here on out. And who was out of that conversation? Who would only get to deliver a sucker punch to either side?

"If Dummy and Weakling play nice here— and we come in and bust either one of their balls, guess what? That's an alliance with an obvious enemy. We become the odd ones out. We become the valid target for both of their wards moving forward. Anytime this happens again? We're forsaken. Nobody's ever trusting us. And whatever extra punishment's coming down? It's on us, too."

And they were not going to win every time. Hell, they were probably gonna lose most times. They could count the amount of people on the other wards from here— they were outnumbered, and now that lessons had been beaten into them, probably outdisciplined, too.

"We ain't doing ourselves any favors by being short sighted." He finished bluntly. "I vote Ugly."

And why they were all so eager to walk into what essentially sounded like an Opium Chamber, he had no clue.

---

TL;DR:
ACTION: -Doug used Foresight.