Marissa steps up on the makeshift stage, knowing that--depending on the majority of the crowd's reaction--what she says could cost her her life, and the lives of the Jedi. "I know that we've all had some trouble with the way that Thorren runs things," she begins. "Some of us have even considered leaving. I've come across a few unexpected allies that could help us leave. They've promised us leniecy, possibly even full pardons. They are Jedi."
The crowd shifts uncomfortably, all save for the collaborators.
"They are dead," a gruff male voice says from the back of the room. "At least, they will be soon..." Out of a hallway strides Thorren and a group of three others. "As for you, Marissa," he spats out her real name, filled with contempt. "You will be first..." He reaches out towards her despite the distance, and then closes his open hand. Marissa reaches for her throat, desperate to unlock the unseen hands that are squeezing at her trachea.
