"Marianne!"

You heard someone shout. Your name. You turned towards the sound. You were the staple of beauty for Draag. Consistently singing for events that house world leaders, singing the national anthem for major sports events, going across your country for the reconditioning of those who are high risk, even personally for the All Immortal Dictator. But despite that, you were blind to the bad happening in the great country of Draag.

"Oh sweet, sweet, Marianne..."

He said softly, slowly stopping in front of you. You recognized the voice. Gerard. The main event for the shows you'd usually play to recondition. The singer you'd accompany. He was seen as less than you. A man who talked too much. Asked too many questions.

He was so close to being on the chopping block. To be standing next to the men they would execute every night at the exact shows both you and him performed.

But, you were sweet. You were always sweet. That's why you were the postcard, the beautiful face shown for Draag. The idea they gave of hope and prosperity. You couldn't just not talk to him. You couldn't hate him. Even if he was almost seen as a traitor.