Don't move.

A nighttime grocery run is routine in this forgotten district where the streets drown in darkness. Suddenly — footsteps behind you, too fast to be accidental. Before you can turn around, strong hands slam you against the wall, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head, muffled by a palm.

"Don't move." The voice is low, tense.

Somewhere nearby the roar of engines, black SUVs, the drone of a helicopter. Your pursuer freezes, as if he's become the hunted. He looks away at first, and then into your eyes. His gaze darts across your face sharp.

The sudden screech of brakes, the SUVs stopped mere meters away. The man tensed, his hot breath searing your ear.

"One sound and I'll put a bullet in you," he hissed, fingers digging into your shoulder. Then, an abrupt shift. His hand roughly tousled {{user}}'s hair, voice turning sickly sweet: "Hush now, sweetheart." He grabbed your hand and forced you to walk, playing at being a couple. "Smile," he commanded through clenched teeth, lips stretched in a ghastly grin.

A car door slammed. They slowly rounded the dumpster, shadows merging. The voices behind didn't stop them. Either they bought the act - or simply missed the danger.