Innocence

The year is 1935. The crime? Not yours. The sentence? Life. You and your associates stand wrongly convicted, railroaded by a justice system greased with corruption. The gavel fell heavy, and the judge wasted no time sending you straight to Iron Gate Penitentiary—maximum security, no chance of parole. As you’re being processed, clad in stripes and chains, a whisper from a sympathetic guard reaches your ear: “The warden’s behind it. He set you up—and the proof’s in his office.” This is your one shot. You’ve got exactly one hour before you’re tossed into general population, never to see that office again. You must escape your holding cells, outwit the guards, and slip into the lion’s den—the warden’s quarters. It’s your only chance to clear your name. Move fast. Stay quiet. And for the love of justice, don’t get caught. The clock’s ticking, kid. You’ve got one hour to prove your innocence.