>>2081

“Move bitches, your turn, hurry it up.” The armed soldiers usher us out of our cells and onto the town square, a small kind of triangle flanked by a nice little park, the grounds of a school, and the side of a shopping district. It's not like they'd need this many guards, we're unarmed and wearing nothing but some flimsy shirts to cover ourselves.

The square is covered in a thin layer of snow that is painfully cold under my bare feet, and as we get closer I can see that the Captain has all his men gathered. They used to be a hundred when they took over our small town weakened by the war and left with barely any men to defend it; after just two weeks there's only 78, while we only lost three of our own, in time the all-female resistance easily would have driven them off.

But somehow they found our hideout, and those not killed in the fight were captured. We went from 23 to 14, and they already took away five of us this morning, no doubt they are dead by now, if not worse.

As the soldiers line us up in the middle of the square, I notice a gallows with five naked, partially bloodied or bruised bodies hanging from it. That clears up that question. And there's a few more nooses free, if not enough for all of us.

From the crowd that's gathered, it appears like the Captain is making almost all of the town watch, and multiple of his soldiers are holding smartphones or video cameras too. If all of these people were to rise up now, the Captain and his men would literally be crushed, guns or no; but there is no way to rally them without just being shot instantly, or worse.

A fact that the Captain must be well aware of if he's making an example of us instead of just having us quietly shot in the head or something. I'm not really paying attention to his speech about junk like peace and order, until something makes me pay attention.

“Of course, this wouldn't have been possible without a little help from the inside telling us where to go.” Wait, what? He couldn't- “Step up, will you?” He pulls a blonde woman out of the row; I saw her before and fought side-by-side with her, but she never caught my attention beyond that. Did she really sell us out?

“You little bitch, I'll fucking kill you!” The tall brunette suddenly charges forward at the traitor, probably intending to kill her with her own hands, but she barely gets two steps forward before the two soldiers flanking the Captain open fire, the high-caliber bullets tearing huge bloody holes into her abdomen, and one hitting the side of her head, positively blasting it open, exposing her glistening brain as her body instantly stumbles to the ground, splattering the snow around it with red in its last shudders.

Ignoring the interruption, the Captain continues “So of course she will be rewarded as appropriate-” Suddenly he shifts, pulling a small knife from somewhere, jabbing it into the blonde's neck and tearing it out in a sideways motion, painting an arc of red onto the ground as she gasps in shock, reaching for her throat, the blood streaming freely through her hands.

“That's what you deserve.” The Captain pushes the woman onto her knees, then grinds her face into the dirt with his boot. “Traitors are the worst kind of scum. How could you ever expect anything else than betrayal in turn?”

Leaving the bitch to futilely struggle as she bleeds out, the Captain turns to the rest of us. “Of course, you will all die for your crimes, but merciful as I am, you will get a clean death. And what's more you may choose, do you want to be shot or hanged?”

Actually, for me this is not even a decision. After an incident involving a skipping rope when I was small, I have a kind of trauma involving any and all kinds of asphyxiation, I can barely hold my breath without starting to panic. So after a small moment, I step up. “Just shoot me and get it over with.”

“How brave to go first. Or is it cowardice so you won't have to see your comrades die? Either way. Strip.” I obey, taking off my flimsy excuse for a shirt to reveal my admittedly sizable chest, and the Captain lest out an appreciative whistle. “Not bad. Such a waste, really. You could have been the star of the whorehouse.”

Maybe. And it's not like I didn't put my looks to good use. A tall, busty redhead is sure to get some attention, and no less than three of his soldiers fell for me, only to wind up strangled or stabbed that night.

The Captain pushes me on my knees and I hear the telltale click of a pistol being readied, and a muzzle pressing against the back of my head. “Any last words?”

“I'll see you all in hell.”

“Well spoken, and I have no doubt about that. Farewell.”

...BANG!