Hall of Infinite Doors
You lay down on the thin strip of balcony, your hands behind your head. You hear a crash in the office, and feel a dozen beams of light dancing over your prone form. The blazing searchlight still illuminates your prone form even as the balcony door crashes open, admitting two black-clothed and bulkily kevlared men onto the thin balcony. A gun is shoved in your face, propping up your chin, and something shouts at you to stand.
You comply, forced up by the weapon, and back out as you are led, back into the dark and now crowded office. The second officer has his hands gripped tightly around your wrists, screaming at you to let go of the star. It's still grasped tightly in your hand, caught in your skin, and even though up until this point you've seen no reason not to comply with the very armed and willing to shoot you officers, now you feel reluctant. It somehow feels yours, like you've earned it, and you're not sure if you want to let it go.
You comply, forced up by the weapon, and back out as you are led, back into the dark and now crowded office. The second officer has his hands gripped tightly around your wrists, screaming at you to let go of the star. It's still grasped tightly in your hand, caught in your skin, and even though up until this point you've seen no reason not to comply with the very armed and willing to shoot you officers, now you feel reluctant. It somehow feels yours, like you've earned it, and you're not sure if you want to let it go.