The room was constructed from brilliant white Generic Surface, and brightly lit from an unidentifiable source. The walls and floor were studded with small nozzles, except for one area that the Sunflower Official knew to be a one-way window. He held himself upright, ignoring the weight of his chains, the pain from his torn leaves, and faced it with dignity.
Sunflower, the Nightshade's voice boomed – of course, they wouldn't even use his name now, couldn't even grant him that much respect - you have been found guilty of high treason against the Protectors of the Plot Continuum and the Agents of the Canon Protection Initiative. For this crime – the twin acts of reforming the Mary-Sue Factory and attempting the release of known enemies of the PPC from custody – you have been sentenced to death. Do you have any last words?
The Sunflower's petals tilted slowly. Only these: that by killing me, you are committing an even greater crime than those falsely attributed to me. You are executing the First of the Flowers, and an innocent Plant besides. When future generations look back on this day, they will say – he was murdered in thick sap and cold blood. Then, may the gods of all the worlds have mercy upon you.
There was a moment's silence, and then the Nightshade spoke again, slowly. By my authority as Head of the Department of Internal Affairs, I consign you, Sunflower, to the embrace of the flames. There was a soft click, and the nozzles blossomed with blinding blue fire.
The Sunflower Official stood tall as he burnt, but in the end, as all do, he died screaming.