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DiP_101 - A Domestic Disturbance - 4K UHD Upscaled
WPC Abigail Toyne stepped into the kitchen, expecting a routine inquiry. She was prepared for anything, or so she thought. She certainly wasn't prepared for Karen Wood. The attack came from the shadows of the domestic setting. As the officer turned, Karen lunged, a cloth heavy with the sickly-sweet scent of chloroform pressed brutally over Abigail's mouth and nose. The WPC's training kicked in too late; her struggles were frantic but futile against the chemical tide, and she slumped to the linoleum floor, her authority extinguished.
With the officer unconscious, Karen went to work with frightening efficiency. She needed the identity, and she took it, layer by layer. She stripped the limp officer of her heavy jumper, unbuttoned the crisp white shirt, and removed the regulation tie and skirt. WPC Toyne was left shivering and exposed in her black lace lingerie, her badge and power lying in a pile next to her.
But Karen wasn't finished. She dragged the half-naked officer over to the dishwasher. Taking Abigail's own handcuffs, she snapped one cuff around the officer's wrist and the other securely around the handle of the appliance, tethering the law to the kitchen infrastructure.
Then, the transformation began. Karen donned the stolen uniform, buttoning the shirt, pulling on the skirt, and adjusting the tie. She pulled the police jumper over her head and stood up, smoothing down the fabric. She was no longer Karen Wood; she was the law. With a final glance at the real WPC, trapped and stripped on the kitchen floor, the new officer turned and walked out, ready to patrol the streets in a stolen skin.
WPC Abigail Toyne stepped into the kitchen, expecting a routine inquiry. She was prepared for anything, or so she thought. She certainly wasn't prepared for Karen Wood. The attack came from the shadows of the domestic setting. As the officer turned, Karen lunged, a cloth heavy with the sickly-sweet scent of chloroform pressed brutally over Abigail's mouth and nose. The WPC's training kicked in too late; her struggles were frantic but futile against the chemical tide, and she slumped to the linoleum floor, her authority extinguished.
With the officer unconscious, Karen went to work with frightening efficiency. She needed the identity, and she took it, layer by layer. She stripped the limp officer of her heavy jumper, unbuttoned the crisp white shirt, and removed the regulation tie and skirt. WPC Toyne was left shivering and exposed in her black lace lingerie, her badge and power lying in a pile next to her.
But Karen wasn't finished. She dragged the half-naked officer over to the dishwasher. Taking Abigail's own handcuffs, she snapped one cuff around the officer's wrist and the other securely around the handle of the appliance, tethering the law to the kitchen infrastructure.
Then, the transformation began. Karen donned the stolen uniform, buttoning the shirt, pulling on the skirt, and adjusting the tie. She pulled the police jumper over her head and stood up, smoothing down the fabric. She was no longer Karen Wood; she was the law. With a final glance at the real WPC, trapped and stripped on the kitchen floor, the new officer turned and walked out, ready to patrol the streets in a stolen skin.
