Mr. Halter & Mr. Prunge
Being good ain't all that bad
A buzzing noise echoes the cold, metallic hall. Chains sway, clinking against one another as pairs of footsteps follow the rhythm. Heads behind the rows of bars raise. The bright orange figures follow the beams of light down the hall, hoping that it leads north. A door is opened. The bright orange figures, following two professional men with badges on the left side of their chest, enter room with a large wood carved podium facing a small wood carved table. The bright orange figures sat at the table, facing the podium. They were waiting for news.
An old, heavy man leads himself up to the podium. The simple exercise created a sweat above his brow. As he sat in his chair, he took off the glasses he always had worn for these events, and every other event. The trouble was that he couldn't see any farther than past his large, button nose. It took him effort to focus his sight onto one word of a document, that's why he always studied his papers before these events. He lifted his arm and wiped off the sweat with his sleeve, concluding his action by placing his glasses back into place. The effort made it seem that he only sweated significantly more. It's easy to assume the man had many errands to attend to.
The sweaty man opened the folder in front of him, held it closer to his glasses then sat it down again.
"Mr. Halter. Mr. Prunge."
Those were only the last names of the two criminals sitting at the wood carved table. Their full names were Barry Halter and Marvin Prunge.