Emma Watson, the hangwoman, ascended the steps of the scaffold with a stern expression on her face. She surveyed the crowd with a critical eye, taking in their nervous energy and excitement. She was a figure of power and authority, dressed in all black with a noose coiled over her shoulder.
A guard brought forth the first prisoner, a man accused of treason against the femocracy. Emma locked eyes with him, her gaze unyielding. "You should have thought twice before crossing us," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
The man spat at her feet, calling her a "filthy feminist." Emma's lips twitched in amusement. "I've been called worse," she said, and looped the noose around his neck. She kicked the stool out from under him, and the man kicked and gasped as he hung.
Emma watched impassively as the man died, then turned to the next prisoner, a woman accused of theft. The woman begged for mercy, but Emma shook her head. "Stealing is a crime against your sisters," she said. "You know the punishment."
She noosed the woman and kicked the stool away. The woman died quickly, her eyes wide with fear. Emma continued her work, executing each prisoner with cold efficiency.
As she worked, a young man in the crowd called out, "You're a monster, Emma!" She turned to him, her eyes flashing. "And you're a fool," she said. "The femocracy protects us all. These criminals threatened our way of life."
The young man was silent, and Emma returned to her work. As the sun set, the square was empty, save for the bodies of the executed and the hangwoman, still standing on the scaffold.
Emma climbed down from the scaffold, her face set in a determined expression. She had done her duty, and she would continue to do so as long as there were those who threatened the femocracy. She was the hangwoman, and she was not afraid to use her power to protect the society that had given her a place of strength and control.
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