Lionheart - Chapter 3.1 Emily dashed around the intersection of Rue and Pommel, fleeing the confrontation. It was unthinkable that rebels would invade an impoverished town like this just to gain infamy. It wasn't even tactically advantageous, only a nuisance. In a full on sprint, she rounded another corner, now only two streets from her home. Then, a padded arm threw itself at her, clotheslining her by the neck. It was still snowing from when she entered the café, but an inch and a half was only enough to lightly cushion her fall. She opened her eyes just in time to see a meaty hand grab her neck and pull her off the ground. "You rebels are sick, sick people. Do you know that?" "Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait! I'm not one of them! I'm not one of-" Her quivering voice was halted by a foreign feeling. Something small, round pressed up against her back. Emily wasn't fond of movies, but she read a lot; intuition and a bit of luck led her to the terrifying assumption which lingered in the back of her mind. Of course, there was no subtlety in the officer's motion when he pressed the circular barrel of his firearm against her back with even more force. "Ow- Hggh... Ssstop..!" She gasped as he readjusted his meaty grip from her shoulder to the side of her throat. He was choking her, squeezing the fragile life out of her body. As if a gun wasn't lethal enough. "...Why are... No..." The words came out choppy and and garbled. She was tired. She could barely stand as it was. A certain lightheadedness invaded her being, making it all the more difficult to think, let alone breathe. The guard said nothing, expressing his emotion, or lack thereof, through his sick, hateful grimace. But that grimace only hinted at what lurked beneath his skin. "You and your friends have caused us a lot of trouble. Get on your knees, now!" The officer bellowed as he threw Emily forward. She stumbled with a squeak of sorts, scraping her knees in the cobblestone as she fell. As she lifted her sprawled body up from the ground, the guard seized her by her long curls, holding her head up. She winced in pain, eyes shut tight. Emily realized that she wasn't being detained. He was still holding her hair as leverage; no attempt to arrest her movement was made. She tried to piece his motives together as snow slowed to a light fall, before she remembered: where was his gun? "No one needs to know..." He cackled under his manic breath, "It's not like we check the bodies anyways..." Emily rattled at the evolving chuckle, tears welling in her eyes. Her voice shook in terror. "I swear, I had nothing to do with this... I'm not at fault, here--AGH!" "Shut up! You're not making my job any easier," he growled, tugging harshly on her fine hair. He was almost lifting her off her knees. "I've had it up to here with you all!" "But I'm not a rebel!" She was sobbing now, stuttering with her breaths. She could feel the gun inches away from the back of her head as she thrashed and clawed at the fingers clenching her hair. She couldn't reach far enough back to grab any other portion of him. "Let me go!" Her frantic tone and tears eyes would not sway her aggressor. She couldn't attack. She was stuck there, kneeling in the falling snow.