I've been looking forward to that reveal for a while. I even threw in some hints at it in previous chapters. I'm excited to finally start unveiling the bigger picture in regards to where this story is headed. I hope you guys are excited too.
So, question time;
What kind of trouble do you think Agent 38 will get into on board the ship? What type of peril/bondage would you like to see her end up in?
I for one have been loving this story. I could visualize it, like I was watching an action movie.
I would love to see our heroine back in tight inescapable ropes. And with some duct tape and zip ties thrown in. Overkill, now that she’s proven to be quite the trouble maker.
Can’t wait to read what happens next!
Last edited by TightsBound5 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
TightsBound wrote: ↑5 years ago
I got one have been loving this story. I could visualize it, like I was watching an action movie.
I would love to see our heroine back in tight inescapable ropes. And with some duct tape and zip ties thrown in. Overkill, now that she’s proven to be quite the trouble maker.
Can’t wait to read what happens next!
I introduced some zip ties at the end of chapter five. They just might be useful in the near future.
I’ve just started up a DeviantArt and began posting Agent 38 chapters over there! I may tweak the formatting and such, but everything should be largely the same, If any of you are active on DeviantArt and willing to follow, favorite and share the chapters anywhere they might get more exposure, I would greatly appreciate it. I just want as many people as possible to enjoy my stories.
Chapter Eight: “Turning The Tables”
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I ducked back into the hallway that I exited. It seemed deserted and somewhat safe, but I knew safety would only be temporary out in the open like this. I had to find cover.
Not far down the corridor I found a supply closet. I stumbled my way in and did my best to barricade the door. I couldn’t stay hidden here forever but it would give me time to think.
I slumped against the wall and fell to the floor, feeling defeated. I had come so far, only to hit another brick wall. From taking a super-sonic taser in the ass, to getting into the most ridiculous chair tie ever, I’ve already gotten more than I bargained for on this mission. Now I realize I’ve been smuggled out of the country, going God knows where, and I didn’t even know it.
But all of that was in the past. I’m past letting my emotions get the best of me. I had to focus and make a plan if I was going to get out of this alive.
Oh, maybe I should untie myself first.
Yeah, in my haste to figure all of this out, I had forgotten my arms were still tightly bound together. I began shuffling through the various debris in the closet looking for something that might be useful but found nothing. I had to settle for the sharp edge of a shelf in the small room. After a few minutes of vigorous sawing both my wrists and elbows were free to move independently. I then unwound the last bit of rope wrapped around one of my boots.
And, at long last, I was out the rope.
And now all I had to do is make sure I didn’t end up tied up again with more rope... or duct tape... or chains... or zip ties... or literally any other restraining method my old boss might use on me if I get captured again.
Of course, I had two courses of action in front of me to choose;
The first option was simple, easy and safe: I wait until nightfall, find a life boat, launch while no one’s looking, and head for shore.
My second option was complicated, foolish, and dangerous: I’d gather all the supplies and weapons I could, sweep the ship as stealthily as possible, and find out what exactly is onboard this ship besides me.
Do you really have to guess which option I chose?
To pull this off I would have to cover my tracks as best as possible. The longer it took for them to realize I had escaped, the more time I would have to do what I needed to do.
I made my way through the maze of hallways until I found myself back where I started; the dirty storeroom where I’d been held prisoner. I held my breath and stepped inside. To my surprise, the two goons hadn’t woken up yet and we’re still unconscious from the beating I’d given them earlier.
Damn, I am a badass.
I collected all the weapons that had been strewn across the room; the guy’s AK-47, the woman’s pistol(and its missing ammunition clip), her beloved machete, and the knife from the shelf.
My next steps were to get both henchmen out of the way and make my former cell look as “normal” as possible, just in case someone came to visit and didn’t investigate too much.
I quickly realized I could kill two birds with one stone.
First, I patted down the dude to see if he was carrying anything useful on his person. The only things I found were a pack of cigarettes(do you want lung cancer, bro?) and a cell phone, which would pretty useless out here in open water(But he has a really high score in Candy Crush, so he’s got that going for him). I snatched his pack zip ties and began tying him up.
I wrapped the long plastic strips around his ankles and above & below his knees. I then grabbed his arms and pulled them behind him, zipping a couple ties around his wrists for extra strength. It took a chain of three zip ties to bind his muscular arms and bring them together behind his back. Once I felt somewhat confident that it would hold him, I grabbed the handkerchief that had been used to gag me and stuffed it into his mouth. I then took one of the thicker, longer zip ties to wrap around his head and across his mouth. Zipping it tight put it between his teeth, thus keeping the handkerchief firmly in place.
Now I had to figure out where to stash him. He had to be out of sight in order for my plan to work. Then I looked to the back of the room and noticed another door. I opened it and saw that it was just a small empty closet: it would be a perfect fit.
I lugged the giant man across the room and pushed him into the closet. There was just enough room on the floor for him to lay flat on his stomach. I pulled up his bound ankles an used a chain of zip ties to connect them to his wrists. A hogtie would keep him out of my hair for a while, but probably not forever. Anyone strong or skilled enough can usually get out of zip ties eventually. I’ve never found zip ties too troublesome in the handful of times I’ve been trussed up with them.
Next, I turned my attention to our lady friend, who was still passed out on the floor. I noticed that her grey navy blue coveralls, as ugly as they were, would make the perfect disguise for me. Being able to blend in with the rest of the crew of this ship would give me a huge advantage when sneaking around. So stripping the woman of her clothes was my next step.
First, I pulled off her boots, which were black, had a rounded toe, a zipper on the side, and rose just above the ankle. I then pulled off her coveralls revealing her undergarments. Underneath she was wearing a yellow and white sports bra with black tights and thin white socks on her feet.
I then got an idea:
If I was going to be masquerading as her, perhaps she should be playing the part of me?
Quickly I began to strip out of some of my clothes, pulling off my sweater and taking off my boots. I then placed my clothes on the woman, slipping my grey and blue sweater over her head and sliding my brown over-the-knee boots over her feet and tights.
Literally giving my clothes to one of the bad guys was unnerving to say the least, but making sacrifices is just part of the job I guess.
I then grabbed the length of rope she had brought with her and began tying her wrists together. The still unconscious woman didn’t even have a chance to protest. I then used some of the leftover rope that had been used on me to connect her bound wrists to the beam near the ceiling. Using a pulley system, I dragged the woman to her feet, with her hands reaching as far to the ceiling as possible. With her now hanging in a standing position, I cinched the ropes to keep her in place.
I then grabbed more rope from the floor and tied together her ankles and above and below her knees, covering my boots and her black tights with the thick rope. To further sell the illusion that it was actually me that was tied up, I took her long blonde ponytail and tucked it into the back of the sweater. Maybe they wouldn’t immediately notice that she wasn’t a redhead?
I stepped back and admired my work, looking her up and down. Just then, the woman began to moan as if she was waking up. I wanted to enjoy this, especially considering the irony of how the tables had turn, but I didn’t want to enjoy it too much. Taking pleasure in other people’s suffering is what villains do, and I always did my best to avoid crossing that line. I could have easily killed both of them, but I’d chosen not to. This job often makes me do things I’m not comfortable with, and I never get enjoyment from taking lives, even from the bad guys. I hoped these two goons appreciated that I was trussing them up instead of snapping they’re necks, but I doubted it.
The woman began blinking her eyes and muttering something indistinguishable in Italian.
Oops. I forgot the gag.
I pulled the red bandanna from her neck, knotted it in the middle, and placed it in her mouth. As soon as I knotted the cloth behind her head she began to squirm.
“Mmmppphh,” she angrily yelled into her gag.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. You’ll have to speak up,” I said with a sly smile.
“MMPPPPPHHH,” she added with an even angrier squeal.
I couldn’t help but taunt her just a bit more;
“As much as I’d like to hang around and have a girl-to-girl chat, I’ve got a job to do. I’m sure your boss has some super-secretive and super-evil plan to execute, and I think he’d be disappointed if I didn’t at least try and stop him. Don’t you agree?”
“Mppphhh!”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I countered, as I slipped into the woman’s baggy blue coveralls. I then grabbed her utility belt and snapped it around my waist. I holstered the pistol, threw the AK-47’s strap over my shoulder, and slipped the knife into a pocket on the belt. Considering that carrying the machete in addition to all the other weapons might look a bit conspicuous, I opted to leave it behind(albeit far away from my female captive, who wanted it now more than ever.)
I did my my best to tuck my long red hair into the back of the coveralls, and then covered my head with the woman’s black baseball cap. The fact that I was stealing her clothes seemed to piss her off even more;
“Mmmmppphhhh!!”
“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do. Take care of my sweater and boots. And don’t go running away on me, I’ll be back for them later,” I said with a wink as I made my way out the door.
I moved swiftly through the maze of hallways once again, this time walking with as much purpose and confidence as I could muster. Being able to blend in and pretend I was a crew member would save me a lot of time. It was also preferable to having to be stealthy, or having to take out every henchman I crossed paths with.
I made my way outside onto the deck and got familiar with my surroundings. The ship was a massive cargo vessel, nearly 200 meters in length and over 50 meters wide. Aligned across the deck were five massive doors that covered the huge cargo compartments below. A line of four cranes, spaced out between the doors, stood in the middle of the ship, clearly for the purpose of loading and unloading goods. Usually the enormous cargo holds under the deck were used to carry various raw materials and such, but I suspected my old boss was transporting something much more nefarious.
I stood near the stern of the ship, underneath the large tower that stood at the rear of the vessel. It rose nearly 18 meters over my head, and sitting atop it, facing the bow of the ship, was the bridge. I imagined the boss up there, lounging around and barking orders as he did, surrounded by at least a dozen hired guns. Believe me, I very badly wanted to storm up their, kick all the guard’s asses, and throw that fat dirtbag overboard, but that would have to wait. Finding out exactly what these mobsters were hauling, and why, was my current priority.
Thankfully, the main deck was relatively unguarded. A couple henchman stationed at either side of the bridge tower paid me no mind as I strolled towards the bow of the ship, acting as if I was supposed to be there.
As I walked, I began to notice how dirty and rusty the ship was. It was far beyond its prime, having most likely been salvaged from a scrapyard and sold on the black market. Surely my old boss could afford something better than this piece of junk?
I made it to the first cargo hold, and while the nearest sentry wasn’t looking, I dove into one of the access hatches. A long ladder led to the bottom of the hold where various crates and storage containers lay strewn about floor and stacked precariously. I began breaking open the crates to see what was inside, and I wasn’t surprised;
Drugs. And lots of them.
Methamphetamine, cocaine, heroine, opium, and long list of other very dangerous, and very illegal substances. These mobsters had several tons of drugs in this one hold alone, most likely worth many millions, if not billions of dollars.
I moved on to the next cargo hold and found more of the same. A massive amount of drugs, enough to buy a country with, or make the entire population high for a week.
The third cargo hold was anything but the same, and twice as terrifying. It was full of military grade weapons. Assault rifles, pistols, rocket launchers, sniper rifles, grenades, you name it. At the far side of the room I noticed several large objects hidden underneath massive tarps. A peek underneath revealed them to be a trio of Abrams tanks, new, shiny and ready for combat. There was enough artillery in this room alone to start a war and keep it going for a while.
All of this cargo could be used for any number of horrible deeds. This much drugs could make my old boss really rich really quick, and simultaneously flood the black market, triggering gang warns and endless violence wherever it ends up.
The weapons could be used to destabilize governments, or simply arm maniac warlords wanting to cause chaos and murder millions.
So, long story short, a lot of bad things are going to happen if this ship made it to its destination... I couldn’t let them happen.
By now I’d seen enough to know I wouldn’t be satisfied until this ship and all of its contents were at the bottom of the ocean. Still, my curiosity was piqued and I moved on to the fourth cargo hold. I was surprised no one had attempted to interrupt my snooping yet.
I began to survey the cargo, which seemed to be a mishmash of the cargo in the other holds. More drugs, more weapons, plus some other random items; a half dozen pricey sports cars, several pallets full of diamonds and jewelry, another few pallets full of wine, and various other ridiculously expensive things. Obviously this was where the boss kept his valuables
I then noticed a large shipping container in the corner of the hold. It was a pale yellow color, but had clearly been battered after years of use. My curiousness continued to get the best of me and I decided to investigate it. It had a chain wound around the door handles and a duo of locks keeping the giant metal box secure. I managed to find a crowbar nearby and pried off both locks. I unlatched the heavy steel door and slowly pulled it open. As the bright lights of the cargo hold filtered in and revealed the contents of the container I gasped in horror.
Inside the container were at least 30 young women. They were all seated on the floor, spaced out evenly against the corrugated metal walls of the box. Shackles binding their wrists and ankles, along with a metal collar around they’re necks, were locked to the wall nearest to them, holding each young woman in place.
This mission just got a whole lot more complicated.
Emma wrote: ↑5 years ago
I started this last night, and really haven't gotten very far, but do enjoy it! I hope to have time to read more this evening.
Soooo, I just introduced a lot more damsels into this story. I’m looking forward to exploring their captivity and developing them further in the future.
Speaking of which, I have another question for everyone:
Now that we have a collection of damsels involved, what would you like to see happen to the? What peril should they be subjected to? And what types of group bondage should be used to keep them restrained?
BobaFettish1 wrote: ↑5 years ago
Soooo, I just introduced a lot more damsels into this story. I’m looking forward to exploring their captivity and developing them further in the future.
Speaking of which, I have another question for everyone:
Now that we have a collection of damsels involved, what would you like to see happen to the? What peril should they be subjected to? And what types of group bondage should be used to keep them restrained?
Would love to hear your thoughts.
As long as it has a happy ending, I'll be fine with it.
I’ll be posting chapter nine here very soon! In the meantime, you can read it RIGHT NOW on my DeviantArt page! So if you can’t wait, jump on over: http://fav.me/dcy8k6v
Chapter Nine: “Cargo Of Doom”
_______________________________________
All of them appeared to be asleep. It had to be extremely uncomfortable trying to get some shut eye while shackled hand and foot as they were.
I shuddered to think what these girls had been through, and even worse, what my old boss had planned for them.
I noticed how different each one of them looked and dressed. One girl had a fair complexion with dark brown hair held in a ponytail. She wore a white lacy top with a denim jumper and red converse sneakers.
Probably snatched walking down the street.
Another woman had dark skin, braided dark hair, and wore lime green hospital scrubs with gray tennis shoes.
Kidnapped from a parking lot after her shift was over, I imagined.
Sitting next to her was another light-skinned girl with jet black hair cut into a bob with bright pink highlights. She wore a purple polka dot pajama shirt and matching pants with only a pair of rainbow socks covering her feet.
Taken from from her bedroom in the middle of the night?
Each of these women were unique and dissimilar to each other in almost every way. They came from different walks of life, probably on completely different continents. But now they all had something in common;
They were all slaves.
They were being treated them like cattle. (Heck, I’ve seen cattle treated better.) They were prisoners of evil men(and at least one woman) who thought of them as nothing more than property to be sold to the highest bidder.
Each girl was bound with two pairs of standard handcuffs; one pair binding their ankles together, and the other clasping their hands together behind their back. Both handcuffs were connected by a single chain that ran between them. It was sort of a loose hogtie that prevented them from standing or walking. They were also forced to wear large metal collars around they’re necks, which were the same style as a basic handcuff but large enough to encircle someone’s neck. The chain attached to the collar was also connected to their wrist and ankle chains. They were all forced to sit on the floor in awkward positions. Some sat cross legged, while others positioned their shackled feet to the side. The chain binding their collar, handcuffs and leg cuffs was then padlocked to a chain that hung on the walls of the shipping container. The chain ran the entire perimeter of the box, slid through metal loops at various points. All the women were shackled to the same chain, which hung at about knee height.
In addition to their shackles, which gave them extremely limited movement, they were also gagged with white strips of cloth which were knotted in the middle, pushed into their mouths and tied off behind their heads. Furthermore, they were each fitted with a matching white blindfold that would severely muffle their senses.
I know how that feels all too well.
Human trafficking is one of the most heinous and terrifying enterprises on the planet. Now I feel stupid for not uncovering the fact that these mobsters were guilty of such crimes. My original mission was to gather intel on the mob’s operation in Rome. My CO knew there was much more going on there than it appeared.
The drugs, the weapons, and now these slaves, all on a ship going who knows where? This isn’t your typical gangster setup. There are more sinister elements at play here, and I’m on the cusp of revealing it all.
But right now my biggest responsibility is to save these women. There was no question in my mind; I was going to them off this boat, or die trying.
For some reason I was drawn to one of the girls seated to my right, next to the door. She was young, no older than 20. She was fair skinned and had reddish-brown hair that was woven into a tight bun on the back of her head. She wore a long sleeve dress with horizontal black & white stripes that had a circular collar and a skirt that fell down to her upper thighs. She wore solid black tights on her legs with light-brown leather knee high boots with short heels on her feet.
It was a cute outfit, I had to admit, but this wasn’t the time for that.
I knelt down beside her and studied her for a moment. I stroked her cheek, hoping to wake her up without startling her. I then removed her blindfold and her bright green eyes began to blink in reaction to the stinging light from outside. I untied the gag from around her mouth and she took a deep breath and coughed.
“Who are you?,” the young woman asked in a thick British accent.
“I’m not one of the bad guys, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I said flatly. “I’m here to help. You’re safe... or, at least you will be.”
“How did you get on board the ship?”
“Um, I was an invited guest, much like you and your friends. I was just lucky to escape before they got a chance to chain me up like this... Wait, how did you know we were on a ship?”
“I could smell the sea water when this container was loaded on board. And I could feel the ship swaying when we went through a storm.”
“Clever girl... Did pick up on anything else that might be useful?”
“When they locked us in here, one of the men said something about Rio de Janeiro...”
“Brazil,” I finished. “We’re headed to South America.”
“Is that bad?”
“For Brazil it is. There’s enough drugs and guns on this hunk of junk to ruin any country. I hope the Brazilian government appreciates what I’m about to do for them.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna sink this thing.”
The girl nearly gasped. “Wait, what?!”
“...After I get you off, of course.” I added.
The girl calmed down a bit, but she still didn’t trust me. And I didn’t blame her.
“Okay, then what are you waiting for? Get these cuffs off!”
The young woman futilely struggled against the cuffs that were snug around her wrists and booted ankles.
“Look, kid, I don’t like this anymore than you do, but you’re going to have to stay here while I sort some things out.”
“Wait, why? We’ve been chained up in here for days! If they come back...”
I cut her off.
“If they come back and find all of you gone, they’ll know something’s up. I have to find the quickest way out of here for all of you. If we’re caught out in the open, we’re all dead... or in more shackles. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up before I leave.”
“Then take me with you. I can help! Don’t leave me here!” she pleaded.
“You’ve got spunk, kid. As much as I’d love to have a sidekick, you’re safer here for the moment.”
The girl started to protest, but she could already tell arguing with me was useless. She slumped against the wall.
“I know you don’t trust me, and you have no reason to. But I’m going to get you to safety, all of you. I promise.”
She gave a faint nod as I grabbed her blindfold and gag.
“By the way, what’s your name?”
“Sara,” she said timidly. “What’s yours?”
“I don’t have a name.” I said dryly as I affixed the blindfold around her eyes once again.
“But... what do I call you?”
“Agent 38.”
I reapplied her gag before she had the chance to continue the conversation.
“I don’t have a name.”
Those words echoed in my mind as I walked across the cargo hold and began climbing the ladder to the deck above. Yes, once upon a time, I did have a name. And a family. And a “normal” life. But I left all of that behind when I joined The Agency. One of the requirements of being a part of a super-secret spy organization was eliminating what my CO calls “distractions”. At The Agency we were taught that the mission always comes first, and getting rid of all connections to our past life was key in staying focused on that. It wasn’t easy, but it was effective. Of course, I miss my old life sometimes, but missions like these help remind me that I’m right where I should be.
All of those girls? They have lives, families, friends, hopes, dreams. And all of that was taken from them. I can be the one to give them a second chance at life. You can call it divine intervention, or fate, or whatever, but this why I’m here. This is my destiny.
I got to the deck and it was still nighttime, most likely in the early morning hours. I had the bare bones of a plan in my head and knew I only had a small window of time to execute it. But my curiosity was eating at me again. My discovery of the women had distracted me from finishing my sweep of the ship. There was still one more cargo hold I hadn’t visited.
I strolled cautiously towards the hatch for the fifth cargo hold, near the bow of the ship. I opened it and began my descent. Once reaching the bottom I could see that this hold was relatively empty, aside from one large red shipping container positioned in the center of the room.
My heart sank. More slaves? I would have a hard enough time getting the women in the other hold out of here. The thought of having twice as many human beings to rescue was beyond stressful.
I carefully snapped off the lock and opened the door. I breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing several stacks of black crates. Grateful that the cargo didn’t appear to be alive, I went to the first crate I came to and opened. I instantly recognized what was inside.
I couldn’t have imagined something that was even worse than a container full of slaves.
Inside the crate, cradled in black cushioned foam, was a metal orb full of Plutonium.
Now, for those of you who slept through science class, let me break this down for you:
Plutonium is a rare, naturally occurring element. It is a highly radioactive material that can serve a number of purposes, but it’s most infamous use is being a key element in the making of (yup, you guessed it) atomic weapons. I checked over a dozen crates and all of them held Plutonium orbs. I didn’t know this much Plutonium even existed at all.
Fortunately for me and everyone on this ship, Plutonium wasn’t volatile or explosive on its own. It does, however, give off a certain amount of radiation(which is probably why it has one cargo hold all to itself). But when coupled with the right components, you could have enough nukes to destroy the world 10 times over.
So, let me get this straight; this ship is carrying guns, drugs, slaves, AND nukes?
This is officially the worst cruise I’ve ever been on.
“We’re on course and right on schedule, sir. We should arrive by noon.”
“Excellent,” the mob boss said to one of his henchman with a grin. “Our guests are probably getting restless by now.”
The morbidly obese man stood on the bridge, looking towards the bow of the ship he commanded. He chuckled to himself;
“This trip has been even easier than I thought.”
He had no idea it was about to get really hard for him.
I looked down upon the man from above. I had found my way into into the ventilation system and squeezed into one of the (very) small air ducts that hung over the bridge. Peering through a vent directly above their heads, I observed the boss with a dozen or so of his underlings. It was still in the middle of the night, so I was surprised to see the lazy gangster up and about. Apparently we were nearing our destination, and with only 12 hours left until landfall, I was going to have to work fast. Thankfully, I’ve already gotten a head start.
On the way up here I stopped off at the weapons cache in one of the cargo holds. If I was going to truly put this ship on the bottom of the Atlantic, I’d need some explosives. It didn’t take much shuffling through the piles of weapons to find exactly what I needed; explosive charges. I only had room on my person to carry three of the explosives. I calculated that that should be enough to complete my mission.
Finally things we’re working out for me, for once.
I had to be extra careful moving around up here. One wrong move and I could alert them to my presence, or worse, fall through the vent and right into the midst of the boss’ goons. Sure, it would be fun to beat the hell out of a few of those imbeciles, and maybe even punch the big man himself in his stupid face. But even I knew I couldn’t dodge THAT many bullets.
Earlier I also had a chance to familiarize myself with the layout of the command tower at the rear of the ship. Most importantly, I located this vessel’s lifeboats. Four small lifeboats were hung high near the stern, two on the left and two on right side of the ship. Each one could carry approximately fifty people and I’d only need one to get Sara and her enslaved companions to safety. To ensure we weren’t followed once we launched(and that none of the bad guys would have an escape route of their own), I cut loose three of the lifeboats. Using the cover of some fog that had recently rolled in, I used each of the boat’s mechanical wenches to lower them into the water and disconnected them from the ship. One by one, each lifeboat disappeared into the fog in the ship’s wake. Now I just had to make sure no one noticed the lack of lifeboats, or the fact that I’d escaped in the first place.
From my perch I listened in as the boss continued:
“Where is Bruno and Costa? I sent them to secure our lady friend downstairs hours ago.”
One of the goons shook his head.
“No idea, sir. They haven’t checked in recently.”
The boss motioned to another of his henchmen standing near the door. He was a tall man with dark hair, wearing a white button up dress shirt, a black blazer, and black trousers.
“Rizzo, go and find them. And make sure the girl is tied up tight and ready for our arrival.”
I had expected them to catch wind of my escape by now, even with my efforts to keep both my attackers tied up and out of the way. But now that I had more than myself to rescue, I knew putting the ship’s crew on high alert would make getting the women off this ship that much harder. That goon surely wouldn’t fall for the ruse I’d arranged in my former cell. I had to get him out of the way too.
Making my way out of the vent, I took the quickest route to the storeroom where I had stashed Bruno and Costa, hoping to cut him off. Just missing him at one of the junctions, I fell in behind Rizzo and tailed him for a few moments. Timing my steps to match his I was able to mask my presence, but only for a few seconds. Rizzo’s body language quickly changed as he walked; he knew I was there, and I knew what was coming next.
I was surprised to see that he didn’t appear to be carrying any visible weapons, but I was also curious if he would make use of any hidden ones. With my hands already on the AK-47 hanging at my side, I quickly picked it up in firing position and pointed it at his back.
Before I even had the chance to think about pulling the trigger, the man stopped mid-stride and flew into a backflip towards me. Not having time to shoot the rifle, instead I lowered the it and drew it up in front of my body defensively in hopes of hindering his attack. It worked, but not as I expected. Before landing on his feet, Rizzo used one of his legs to kick towards my chest, but instead the force of his attack landed in the middle of the gun. The kick made me stumble backwards and I struggled to regain my proper footing. I looked at the AK-47 and saw that it was now bent and broken. His kick had destroyed it.
Thankfully, I don’t need a gun.
I threw the busted rifle aside and lunged at him. I threw a few punches at Rizzo but he easily blocked all of them. He countered my attack by trying to kick me in the face with his left foot, but I caught his heel in my hand. I rose my hand up, ready to swing it downward and break his leg, but Rizzo wouldn’t allow it. He let himself fall backwards into a handstand, then yanked his left foot from my grip. Before I could react, he brought his right foot up and used to finished what he started; it hit me hard in the face and I fell backwards onto the floor.
I brushed my hand across my face and felt my nose; yup, it was broken. It wasn’t the first time, but it certainly didn’t hurt any less. Blood began trickling out of my nostrils. Soon, the taste of blood landed on my lips.
The idea of taking another prisoner was becoming less likely by the second. Now that I had a couple meters between myself and my opponent, fighting up close and personal wasn’t necessary. Instantly I hopped to my feet and unholstered the pistol from my side. I cocked it, aimed it straight at Rizzo’s chest, and pulled the trigger. With incredible reflexes, the man ducked and weaved, seemingly dodging each and every bullet I fired in his direction. I’m a damn good shot, and I was sure at least a few of bullets found their mark. But if the guy was getting hit, it wasn’t slowing him down a bit. After only a second or two of shooting I realized it was a useless gesture against this seemingly bulletproof goon.
I grabbed the smoking gun by the barrel and prepared to pistol whip the thug when he got within striking distance. I braced myself as he came at me again, still weaponless. I used the gun to strike him across his face, but it hardly phased him. He jabbed his fists at me, and I blocked most of the hits, but couldn’t possibly catch them all. One nailed me in the chest, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Another caught me under my chin, snapping my head backwards. Still, I held my ground and stayed on my feet. I quickly head butted him and he stumbled backwards.
Rizzo then stopped his assault, wiping a bit of blood that was oozing from the edge of his lip.
“You’re her, aren’t you? Agent-“
Before he could finish that sentence, I jumped towards him. Briefly flying through the air while spinning, I stretched out my right foot and it met his jaw. The blow threw him to the ground and he ended up on his hands and knees.
“38. A pleasure to meet you.” I finally retorted as took off my baseball cap. Pulling my long red hair from where it was tucked into my coveralls, I quickly whipped it to my left side and it settled on my shoulder.
He looked up at me from the ground, a sickly grin spread across his face.
“The pleasure will be all mine when I get to chain you to an anchor and drop you overboard.” Rizzo sneered.
I wasn’t about to take his threat lightly. Despite finally getting him on the ground, I knew I’d met my match. This guy was incredibly well trained, and much better in combat compared to the goons that tried to truss me up earlier. I had to find a quick way to end this fight, but making sure the end result was in my favor was going to be difficult. I could feel myself getting weary and weaker, and I was sure that when it came to endurance, Rizzo could outlast me.
I looked past him and noticed a hatchway directly behind at the end of the hall, the door of which was left ajar. If it was another storeroom I might be able to lock him inside if I played my cards right.
Knowing I’d need both of my hands for this next part, I holstered my pistol, with only one round left in the chamber. Hopefully I’d have a chance to make it count at some point.
He quickly jumped to his feet, but I wasn’t about to let him gain the upper hand again. I charged at him, punching him and then grabbing him by his shirt and dragging him backwards. I used all the strength and momentum I could muster to throw him back towards the door. Rizzo was caught off guard by my attack and could do nothing but brace himself as I used him as battering ram to burst through the door and we both landed on the floor on the other side. Coming down next to each other we both shot up into sitting positions to take in the change in scenery. It wasn’t a storeroom as I suspected, but rather a galley kitchen. For a moment I considered the thought that I just might have made things worse for myself.
Not willing to waste a second, I drew my pistol again. This time I pointed it directly at his head, almost at point blank range. I was still hoping he’d surrender, even though I knew pulling the trigger was my best option. I made the foolish mistake of hesitating. It was only for a millisecond, but it was enough time for my foe to react. He slapped at the gun, knocking it from my hand before I could squeeze off that one last round. The gun tumbled across the floor and slid underneath a low hanging shelf on the far side of the room. The gun was out of reach for both of us.
The man then quickly rolled away towards a counter where various utensils and kitchenware were stacked. He grabbed a large butcher knife and lunged back towards me with fury. I crawled backwards as quickly as I could, fumbling for any object that I could use to defend myself. After only a second my fingertips found something long and thin sitting next to a stove; a wooden broom handle, minus the broom. I gripped the handle with both hands and brought it up in front of my face just as the man brought his knife down upon me. The butcher Knife embedded itself in the wood of the handle, slicing through more than half its diameter, but it held. (It was the second time today an insignificant piece of wood had saved my life.)
Rizzo glared down at me, gritting his teeth, obviously frustrated that I wasn’t dying as easy as he hoped. Pinned in a sitting position on the floor with my back to the stove, I struggled to keep the man and his blade back. I knew the broom handle could break at any second, leaving me defenseless. I quickly brought up my right foot, placing the the flat bottom of my boot onto his abdomen and pushed as hard and as fast as I could. My kick sent him soaring backwards through the air, the butcher knife flying his grip, and he slammed into a refrigerator on the other side of the kitchen. Falling face first onto the ground, the man collapsed without a struggle.
My third knockout of the day? Damn.
I slowly rose to my feet and walked towards the man, contemplating what I was going to do with another unconscious body. For a moment I considered that, despite how hard I’d had to fight, this felt a little too easy. I cautiously approached the the crumpled heap that was Rizzo, studying his limp body. I dropped the broom handle and began looking around for a better weapon to steal. Standing near his body, I started to bend down and check Rizzo, but before I knew it I ended up sprawled on floor myself. The strong, muscular arm of the man had jutted out across the floor slamming into my ankles. The sudden and unexpected attack threw my feet out from under me and I tumbled to the floor, once again beside the man.
A very much conscious man.
With superhuman reflexes Rizzo was on his feet in an instant. I had hit the ground hard and was still struggling to get my bearings and get back up. The goon, now standing over my stunned form, took advantage of this. He first grabbed me by my flowing red hair and flung me into the refrigerator. My scalp burned from the pain of the jolt, and my entire body ached from hitting the metal surface so hard. But the man wasn’t finished.
He grabbed me by the neck and again slammed my head backwards into the fridge. He pinned me against it with a chokehold and began raining punches down on my face. One, two, three. Finally, I was able to bring my hands up and catch his hand before he landed the fourth punch. With my attention focused on his left hand attempting to punch my face(again), I didn’t have a chance to brace myself for another punch coming from a different angle. With immense speed, he pulled his right hand away from my throat and swung it as hard as he could into my stomach.
The punch felt like the killing blow. (Or, at least, I was in so much pain I kinda wished I was dead.) My breath was ragged and I gasped repeatedly trying to regain the oxygen that had been blow out of my body. My eyes fluttered and I struggled to stay conscious. I coughed hard and could taste blood. The pain was excruciating.
The man stepped back, the expression on his face could only be described as the smile of a villain. He knew he’d won this fight, and he was relishing in my misery. I clutched at my throat and held my abdomen as I slumped against the refrigerator, eventually sliding down and landing on my knees.
I could almost hear my brain screaming at me to do something. I had to get up. I had to save Sara and the other women. I had to continue fighting. But I couldn’t. My body would not respond.
My eyes, which were still miraculously open, drifted towards the floor. If I looked up, I fully expected to see the barrel of a gun pointed at my face, and I shuddered to think what would come after.
I heard Rizzo approach me and he began to speak, as if responding to the thoughts I didn’t have the voice to utter.
“As much as I would love to finish you off, I’m sure the boss would rather do that himself.”
The man spoke flatly, discussing my fate as if it meant nothing to him. He continued;
“But in the meantime I have to make sure you don’t run away on me.”
I knew where this was going, and I groaned at the thought of it.
I watched as he fumbled through some items on the counter, then picked one of them up and turned around. In his hands was a thick roll of silver duck tape.
Unfortunately it might be some time before I can get chapter 3 written and posted for you. But in the meantime I’ve got some questions for you, and I’d love to hear all you’re answers:
#1: Which locales would you like to see Agent 38 visit? (Specific, real world/fictional places, and/or specific places of peril, such as forests, jungles, dungeons, ect.)
#2: What type of bondage would you want her to experience in those places? (Hogties, pole ties, suspension, ect.)
#3: What type of outfits, or specific pieces of clothing would you want her to wear when captured? (She does enjoy dressing up, after all. )
Hit me up with your ideas and I just might be able to incorporate some of them into future chapters.
Thanks for reading!
Well, I love the idea of being dressed up while tied up, and I love hogties, so if you went with those, I wouldn't mind
[mention]damsel[/mention] I'm definitely looking forward to working in different costumes in the future. And I will say that there's a good hogtie coming up soon in this story.
