<div style="text-align: justify">You'd think the militia's black and silver uniforms wouldn't stand out, surrounded by the black and silver overtones of the city, but that was far from truth. Just like preys from the old world, citizens of Dome quickly learned to pay attention to the predators, no matter how well they blended in. No one wanted to get involved, risking their lives. It wasn't even a matter of the militia being openly cruel or abusing people, though one had to admit, they did not shy away from it in some cases. What people really feared, however, was the group's repute: built throughout the years, passed in shushed, pained whispers between ex-convicts and people outside of militia's cells.<br/>
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When she first got her uniform, Mallory felt the excitement crawling up her spine everytime someone looked at her and scurried away, doing their best to hide it. It was a rush of power, the feeling of dominance over so many people who'd rather get out of her way than engage that made her heart beat faster. She loved her place in the world. Her whole being went into it sooner than later, and Mallory never questioned anything again, drunk on the benefits.<br/>
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They entered the square, hearing people even before they were able to tell the silhouettes apart. The woman kept her <i>helpful</i>hand on the vendor's shoulder, guiding him as his cart clicked and clacked against the cobblestone under their feet. But the moment they came closer, Mallory heard a familiar voice calling from the platform. With a harsh push, she shoved the man out of her way and began to gain speed as she made her way through the crowd to get closer.<br/>
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People might have been careful, guiding their way through, but Mallory put her trust in the uniform once again; she bumped into and used her elbows on people however hard she wanted, and no one dared to make a comment, at least not when she was still within the range. Soon enough, she stood close to the platform, perhaps in the fourth of fifth line of the crowd. She could hear the crunching of old, crusty fries people munched on, oil dripping down their fingers and onto the ground; people whispering between one another, some with worry in their voice, some - excitement. But she cared little for all that. What was important, was right there, in front of her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Justice</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Her heart began to pound in her chest when she looked at the man's face. He stood tall, expressionless. Mallory heard someone say "admirable" and she couldn't help but chuckle. It didn't take her long to recognize the soon-to-be hanged man; after all, she prided herself in being a part of the raid that resulted in catching many similar to him. They were all going to be <i>admirable </i>soon, and then.. Well, then they'd be dead.<br/>
<br/>
She'd only heard a loud crack once the hairs on the back of her hair stood up. Silently, she turned around and looked at the man behind her. Taller than her, towering over many in the crowd, stood her commanding officer: Victor Lavonne, one of the militia members feared even by those close to him. Whether it was his face, scarred and wild, like an animal's, or whether it was his very obvious love for cruelty, no one tried to check - but all in all, Victor was no one's real friend, yet an oppressor to many.<br/>
<br/>
Mallory's heart sunk a bit as the man stood close to her. She let her gaze slide down Victor's body, noticing a dainty frame of a young girl in his arms. Her head was shifted in an unnatural position, and a small trail of blood trickled down her chin, yet the man cradled her as if she was about to escape his crushing grasp. Mallory looked up, into the cold eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Watch yourself." He half-murmured, half-growled, the scars on his left cheek moving as he spoke. His large hand moved, revealing a small dagger. In any other situation, that sort of weapon would be a mistake; but for a silent assassination, it was perfect. "They're here." Doing what could only be a new rendition of a true <i>danse macabre</i>, Victor dragged the girl, still cradled in his oh-so-welcoming arms, between and away from the crowd.<br/>
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Mallory began to breathe again. Feeling cold sweat on her back, she stood up on her toes and looked around, scanning the commotion around her.<i> They're here.</i><br/>
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