A Scandal in Belgravia [Reader Insert]

The Woman's True Fate

This may be something of an epilogue, but not so much that I'd go so far as to say so in the name of the chapter. (I realize that doing (Y/N) (L/N) may be confusing bcos its like your name, last name rather than first name, last name, but then again, if I did (F/N), it could be confused for full name [instead of first name] and then it'd just be like (for example) Ben Affleck Affleck. So. Yeah.)

     1,243 Hours Prior

     Karachi

      The sky itself was pitch black, penetrated not even by the light of the stars or moon. On the ground, however, bright stadium lights washed the sand free of all shadow but those of the living. The blinding glare illuminated a large section of a desert camp, but beyond its light was the unlit and unknown.

      At the near center of the lit area, a trembling figure typed onto a small mobile phone. (#lit) A kneeling woman, her identity concealed by a black headscarf and robes. Around her, similarly-dressed men moved about, mostly careless of the woman's fate- except for three men.

      The first two of these men stood watching the woman with cold, cruel eyes, waiting impatiently for her to finish her business on her phone. A condemned woman's final grant: two texts. She sent the message and, with tear-filled eyes, handed the phone back to one of the men and shut her eyes to await her doom.

      The third man, only distinguishable from the others by his greater height and straighter posture, slowly and precisely raised a machete- as if checking for correct aim. The man tensed, ready to strike down, to deliver the death blow, when a very suggestive female moan could be heard. The man tensed- and as did the woman. She turned, still slightly trembling, to face her executioner. 

     What the kneeling woman saw beyond the man's heavy black robes and headscarf were (e/c) orbs that stared right back at her. That was when she realized that her executioner was not a man, but a woman- and one that she knew well: (Y/N) (L/N). 

     "When I say run, run!" The machete-wielding (Y/N) whispered.

    And with one swift movement, she turned to face their foes in a daring rescue attempt.