Look Alive. Stay Alive. (Cameo)

Public punishment is something not to be taken lightly, not in the least. There is always something to do when it comes to a mission like this whether it's crowd control or serving the punishment themselves. It will never be a dull moment because family members or friends will almost always stir up a bit of conversation or movement. That's what they are going to be used for. Crowd control has to be the most exciting thing that new recruits and cadets can do. To contain a fire that might start to rage out of control. It's their job to put a lid on it and make sure that the flicker of flames are snuffed out before any damage can be done.

"Good, cause I don't want Kyanite out in town today. I wish there was a way to warn her." HIs voice lowers to a baratone, whispering out to Vy about his concerns. No sooner than a moment later, the troops begin to file out and into the open area. With visors closed and guns at the ready, resting on shoulders, they start to flood out of the building and into the open crowd. The front of his visor followed a few of the other keepers as they are lead into another direction, splitting Jeran and Vy up in the process.

The people trudged forward in attempts to try to get a better look into the flowing white keepers and to see the accused. Though, the convicted hasn't arrived just yet. For the moment, containment is what is needed as the keeper in charge takes his place beside the whipping post, barking out orders and positions for the newest arrivals to take. A cold feeling washes over Jeran's features when the man points to him and then the spot near the post. Nodding, he looks over to the vehicle and then back to the man he now stands beside. His face is uncovered and unjust as the stern look is cast upon the vehicles arriving. The hardness on his brows is hard to mistake for being assigned to punishments for far too long and the winkles in his forehead tells him easily his age, along with the salt and pepper hair and receding hairline.

"Whose being punished?" He questions lightly, not exactly expecting an answer. The only answer he gets from the captain in front of him is nothing more than just 'a dangerous criminal. Who else?'.

From behind him, he can hear the crowd talking - mere chatter- amongst themselves. Certain words, though, makes his ears burn from the insults and the language. Inside his helmet, he squints his eyes and then glances to the person being dragged out, though the only thing he can see is the shape of a woman. Puffing out his chest and taking a deep breath, he has to become nothing more than a cold-blooded man; a capitol's man. This was just a hard job to complete.

"What's going down? Keeper? What's their name? I hope we get to see some bloodshed for their crimes." One man cackles and Jeran instantly tenses up. To him, bloodshed is nothing to be happy about nor is it to be celebrated. Not when his own sister's life was attempted to be taken twice along with the ones that he cares for and knows. With the laws, he knows that bloodshed is to be had to those that are criminals. Those that deserve it... those that -

"Char...lie?" Every muscle that was tense suddenly relaxes as one of the men behind him that was voicing out obscenities bumps into him and makes the gun limber in his hands. With quick, lightning fast reactions, the butt of the gun is shoved against the guys chest as he slams him back into the crowd for them to catch their fellow district member.

"Stay. Back. Civilian or you'll be catching yourself in her shoes next. You got me? Get back, now. Touch me again, and I'll show you what the capitol does to those offenders who touches their forces." Jeran's voice never cracks, but holds that deathly tone so uncharacteristic for him. The man throws his hands up and stands, backing away before folding his arms up in front of him and begins to watch the commotion as the woman is even closer and is pushed up to the post.

"Charlie... no." His words crack, the moment her eyes meet with his blackened visor helmet and nothing but a pitiful feeling jerks his stomach in the wrong direction.

"Her crimes... and her punishment is to set an example for each and every single one of you..." The captain's voice yells out. That voice holds nothing but malice and unconcern for a human being. All the while, the heart of the man inside the peacekeeper suit, made to stand beside the post, wrenches and sends nothing but painful images into his head.

His heart is pounding away somewhere deep within the confinds of his chest. The beating almost so bad that it pulses in his ears and causes him to feel and hear nothing but the pain that the girl in front of him is fixing to endure for her crimes. For some reason, within his helmet, he's glad that darker shade of glass is keeping his face hidden from Charlie. Because the moment she starts to look at him, he bites deep into his cheek, trying to concetrate and take the pain away before the first last is even given to her. No sooner than her hands are bound, pulled on each side and her knees are on the ground does the crack of the whip echo out and he closes his eyes until the first scream penetrates his ear and his stature declines.

"No... no. no." His voice barely makes a whisper, thankfully hidden and muffled by the helmets usefulness. Lash after lash, he can't stand to watch the punishment that has befallen upon his old friend.

Friend...

He rejected her. She wasn't his friend anymore. Was she? He had thrown away something precious to them both. Thrown away an artifact that had proven their friendship as youngsters and severed the bond. This girl - this Charlie Solo - wasn't part of his circle anymore. No, she was the opposite of him. She was a criminal while he was the law. He was suppose to stand here and take this as his punishment as well.

And how bad it was hurting.

Images and conversations began to appear. With the ninth lash, he watched her head loll to the side and her eyes draw to a close and her body became limp against the bounding ropes until the captain walked over to her and put his hand under her chin and then a sudden movement and resonating 'clap' happened when his palm met with her cheek.

Jerking slightly but staying still, Jeran's breath hitches and he looks away for once, and for some reason, memories start to flood his mind. None in particular, just hearing her laughter and her hand in his. How she used to get him to explore and the first time that they ever met back in kindergarten. There was something about chalk and the teacher that he couldn't quite make out, but he shifted the gun in his hand when the male civilian began to inch closer to him and with a stern grasp on the weapon, clicked the saftey off and bobbled his head in his direction until the man backed off again, but not before throwing something toward the criminal recieving her last two lashes.

"That's it. Back. Get out of here now." Jeran growls, shoving the butt of his gun into the shoulder of the man twice as hard as he can and by the third hit, he finds himself on the ground while another peacekeeper pins him on the ground with his knee and fusses with the unruley man.

"Ruze. Untie her." Comes the barking order when he turns to see the girl barely even able to hang on to the post in front of her. Her hair all a mess and sweat dropping down her face. Removing the barrier in front of his eyes with the click of a button and a 'swish', he can see the damage on her face already, as well as the bruises on her arms and purple fingers.

"Yes, sir." He responds and slowly walks over to the girl and just as he passes the captain, his arm is securely latched on to and with a meaningful pause, keeps his sights in front of him, while Jeran's features tries to see the kind of man standing in front of him.

"Get that peice of trash out of my sights. Warn her to next time to stay out of my district." He mocks and his fingers that are latched onto Jeran's protected arm releases him and just like that, walks away stirring up dust in his wake.

"Sir." He nods to him, his eyes trying to follow him out as the soldiers began to disapate from around him and leave him to fulfill his duties. Cleanup squad of one.

"Char..." He starts to say as he walks over to her and bends down to his knees. With shaky fingers, he starts to mess with the first of the ropes that keeps her bound onto the post. "Don't come back, Charlie." He states in a hushed voice, looking at her half closed eyes. "Are you... don't fall asleep on me. You need to get out of here. Okay?"

His intentions are good. His fears are imminent because he's afraid to see her wind up dead, but one look at her back has that severe pain wretching his stomach to see the marks on her back. How many did he count? How many does it look like? Fourteen? Twenty lashes? Her back looks swollen and red. Blood seeping through the wounds that he knows has to hurt. He heard how much pain Dunham was in when he had the fourty lashes for disbanding from the peacekeepers and trespassing on his own home thanks to his father. This was horrible to think that she didn't even harm anyone.

For a moment, his eyes scan out into the district. A lot of the crowd had dispersed but there was a few still left, snickering to the peacekeeper who got the priviledge to clean up what was done. Moving to the other side, he quickly tugged the ropes off and removed them from her other hand as her body crumpled to the ground and with a hefty breath, fought against the urge to just leave her there and be a good little peacekeeper.

No.

Instead, he stayed.

His gloved hand reaching to her arm and rolling her to her side before he voice, pained and sharp, came to greet him.

"Everything okay here CAdet Ruze?"

"I'm sorry, Charlie." He states, completelly dumbfounded on what to say or how to help. He was already hearing a bit of laughter somewhere in the distance. That could only pose one of two questions.

Were they laughing at him? Or were they laughing at her?

"Relax, Charlie. I'll get someone to take care of you." He mentions to her and gets another look at her back. The last thing she needs is to get dirt or something into those deep cuts so, he leaned her back closer to her front and moved her left leg to a different position and moved her left arm to steady her body from collapsing into the dirt. Only then did he notice the peice of tattered woven material.

"Why... why do you have this? Why did you keep it? I threw it away." His voice is nothing but accusing, growing louder with each voice. With a little bit of forced hatred, he began to pull on the bracelett, tugging to get the silly thing off her wrist. "I told you, we weren't friends anymore. So, why did you dig it out of the garbage?"