Alysia grunted in pain at the sudden impact, a sudden exhalation accompanied by the feeling of having the wind knocked from her lungs.  She gasped for breath as she found herself kneeling on the grass.  Her hands were still handcuffed in front of her and, from a glance, the situation had only gotten worse.  She fought down the urge to shift forms.  She had no regeneration as a normal human, but, doing so in public would only reveal herself to anyone that was watching.  She focused through the pain and was about to force herself to her feet when she felt the hands on her shoulders.  The strange sight, and the guns, gave her pause.<em>What the fuck?</em>The question ran through her mind at the sight of their helmets and the words.  She stumbled as they shoved, rather certain she'd gone from the frying pan to the fire, but in no position to fight.  She cursed Carl silently in her head as she flexed against the cuffs.  If they broke she might have a chance.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Alysia knelt where they tossed her.  She swayed with the movements of the vehicle, eyes shifting between the strange set-up and the stranger uniforms.  It was enough to make her doubt that the guns were even real.  Her knees were parted to keep her balanced as they rested against the floor, her cuffed arms positioned to cover as much of herself as possible.  It wasn't much.  Her breasts spilling past the shield of her arms and bouncing any time the vehicle hit a pothole, her bald sex visible from any number of angles.  Her hair was still wet, strands plastered against her face and back.<br/><br/>"This a joke?"  She finally asked.  "A comedy troupe?"  The answer was cut off by the television turning on and the man speaking.  She lifted an eyebrow at his title, then began to shake her head.  She only stopped herself as he called her a poor woman.<em>Thank fucking god.</em>Was her only thought as they finally tossed a blanket over her.  She opened her mouth to speak, to ask a question, but he had already finished his spiel and shut off the screen.  She sighed, and glanced between the men.<br/><br/>"Really?"  She asked.  "Do you get a bonus for wearing the costume?"  It was a bit of false bravado but, really, what the fuck else could go wrong today?<br/><br/>She realized they were leering and sighed again.  The so called Grandmaster's sympathy clearly only went so far.  Pigs.<br/><br/>"Hey!"  She protested as his hand found her breast.  She glared, twisting her torso to try and pull herself from his grasp.  She'd had quite enough of being groped by asshole men today.  She glanced between them as they spoke, and fought back yet another sigh as they yanked the blanket away to expose her yet again.<em>Fuck.</em><br/><br/>"Fuck you checkers boy."  She answered.  She wasn't sure why, but she was offended by the insinuation that she wasn't all natural.  Not that she was going to argue with them over the fact.  "I at least don't have to hide my face in a dark helmet costume!"  It was probably not the best course of action, but there really didn't seem to be much to lose.<br/><br/>