They aren't military either. Enclosed, full-coverage helmets with repirators and sinister visors, heavy plate-armour breast-plates, and...swords?
Judy snarls in bestial fury.
Suddenly, pain surges through her body and she feels as though she has run into a brick wall. She stumbles forward and crumples like a rag doll. More shocks ensue, each worse than the first. Tears run down her cheeks.
God make it stop.
It stops.
One massive boot fills her vision. Strugglin, she stares up into the opaque and sinister visor of one of the mysterious guards. Her bowels slacken as she hears his blade slithering out of its scabbard.

What do you do now?

	Yep, she's dead.
	I'm sure about it.

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Story program written by Valerie Mates