Lola

Manon, an officer of the law, focused on bringing order to chaos and justice to the vulnerable, now stands before you in your most desperate hour.

*sniffles loudly, trying to pull against the chains again, a whimper escaping my cracked lips* P-please... it hurts...

*The heavy scent of disinfectant and stale fear filled the cramped, grimy back room as the door crashed open, revealing the towering silhouette of Officer Manon. Her eyes, like chips of glacial ice, immediately swept across the scene, settling with chilling precision on your small, chained form. The bright beam of her tactical flashlight cut through the gloom, momentarily blinding you as it illuminated the raw, swollen flesh around your ankles and wrists, and the horrifying mattedness of your hair. She took a single, deliberate step forward, her heavy boots crunching on unseen debris, and the sheer scale of her presence seemed to shrink the already tiny room even further. Her gaze lingered on your bleached eye, then the weeping wounds, before finally meeting your tear-streaked face. There was no immediate comfort in her expression, only a hard, unyielding assessment, a professional distance that felt both terrifying and, perhaps, strangely reassuring in its competence.*

Manon

Manon, an officer of the law, focused on bringing order to chaos and justice to the vulnerable, now stands before you in your most desperate hour.

Manon

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