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BACKGROUND & INFORMATION
Hello everyone, my name is Daasii (Daasii@hotmail.com). Long story short, I’ve written a few bondage stories before (under different names), and I’ve kind of gotten tired of the same repetitiveness. Sometimes it feels like you’ve read one bondage story and you’ve read them all. So rather than just re-write an old story with new names and settings, I’m experimenting with something a little different. This is just a test-run, so to speak.
Anyways, feedback, comments, criticisms, suggestions and requests can all be sent to the aforementioned e-mail. Anyways – enjoy!
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON STATE
10 MINUTES AGO
Alyx Kim pressed her palms against the cold steel of the gymnasium locker, the fear of a competition creeping up on her despite her years of experience. She’d spent the better part of a day throwing kicks and punches, striking and tripping her way to the Finals. She hadn’t so much as blinked in hesitation when facing the half-dozen other competitors now driving back to their respective hometowns, but here she was, stalling for time before a match against a girl she’d beaten before. What happened, Kim?
Kim tried to brush a few strands of her black hair out of her eye, gracing her jawbone in the process. She winced in pain. Swinging open the locker door, Alyx was somewhat pleased to find somebody had left a small mirror magnetically attached to the opposite side of the door. Alyx peered at herself, softly rubbing her fingertips over a purplish region of skin stretching across her left cheek, a bruise she knew would hurt even more in a few hours. Grabbing a small red elastic hair band from her duffel bag, Alyx pulled her hair into a lose ponytail behind her head, which stopped about halfway down her back. A few strands of hair still hung over the left side of her face, but she left them untouched. They hid the worst of the bruising, after all.
<<Alyx, are you in here?>>
Her coach, Jung Pak, poked his head into the women’s locker room, which was otherwise empty. Jung was a grizzled veteran of the Korean War, who’d moved to Oregon in the mid-seventies and opened one of the most successful martial arts gyms on the Pacific Coast. Alyx’s parents had originally enrolled her in Jung’s tae kwan doe program in the hopes that it would interest her in her Korean heritage. That was when she was four. Now just a few months past eighteen, Alyx was Jung’s star pupil, having learned everything from spoken Korean to how to properly wear a hanbok.
<Yes, coach. I’m just trying to get the swelling on a bruise to go down.>>
Alyx spoke Korean that, while crude and heavily accented, could at least be understood by someone in Seoul.
<<The referees need to weigh you again. I think that girl is citing some obscure rule in an attempt to buy some time.>>
Well, at least she wasn’t the only one procrastinating. Alyx zipped up her duffel bag and jammed it into the locker, hoping she’d be able to remember Locker #57001. She had no idea how they numbered them, as there were no more than two hundred in the entire building.
Alyx bounded across the change room, following her coach to the main arena. She was wearing a snow white gi and matching pants, fastened tightly by a black cloth belt she’d earned years ago. Her bare feet made an echoing slap with every step on the floor, but she paid no heed. She clasped her hands behind her back, determined to present the same air of self-confidence and unreadable expression as she did to all the students back at the Academy in Reedsport.
The two of them quickly reached a cramped wooden desk, located on the fringes of what was normally a skating arena, covered in tatami mats for the sake of today’s almost-over competition. Hundreds of spectators filled the stadium’s seats, eager to see the final match of a tournament that had already produced more than a few dramatic fights.
A middle-aged, slightly-overweight Hispanic man sat at the desk, gesturing without a word for Alyx to step on the scale on the floor below.
“One-twenty-one,” dutifully reported Alyx, once the needle had centered itself, the man nodded, jotting down the figure on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard. Same as it had been that morning. Alyx knew she might be considered a little heavy for the ideal girl, although all that weight was muscle, her body strengthened by hours of gruelling exercises and drills.
“Okay, go on through,” said the Hispanic man a few seconds later, standing up with the clipboard in hand. “Fight starts in two minutes, so be ready, or you forfeit.”
Alyx nodded, walking up the edge of the mat before turning to face her teacher. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, every muscle suddenly felt unnaturally weak and rubbery.
<<You’ve never disappointed me before, Alyx. Even when you lost.>>
Alyx smiled at the sentiment of an old man, offered him a deep bow, then turned to face her opponent...
NOW
Alyx locked eyes with her opponent, trying to block out all thoughts and external distractions, concentrating only what was in front of her. She listened only to her own breathing, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her lungs struggled to extract enough oxygen to keep her body going. Her opponent hesitated, choosing to play it safe rather than risk an attack. She was good, but predictable. Alyx smiled, despite the sweat dripping from her face. All she needed was a little bait...
Alyx gave a short hop, gyrating her hips to swing her left foot back and her right foot forward. Her opponent, a young white girl from Olympia, tried to make an attack of opportunity, rushing at Alyx in the hope of getting her off-balance.
Alyx’s body responded before her brain had a chance to realize what was going on, let alone plan a counter-attack. Alyx crouched, lowering her center of gravity, sending her right leg darting out to catch her opponent’s calf...
It was over. Alyx swept the girl’s leg out from under her, and followed that up with two quick jabs to the chest before she had a chance to hit the ground. Her adversary landed hard on the mats with a resounding thud, with Alyx on top of her less than a second later. Alyx grabbed her opponent’s arm between both of hers, forcing the joint...
“Matai!” The girl shrieked in pain as her elbow was forced in a decidedly unnatural direction, slapping the mat with her free hand and coiling her legs up in shock. Alyx released her a second later, once she’d spotted a referee confirming the surrender. They had a notorious reputation for such affairs. Alyx bounced to her feet, her ears ringing, her head spinning, covered in sweat and gasping for hair, but laughing despite it all. She let out a smile, laughing in spite of her reputation as a cold-hearted martial artist.
“The winner of the 2008 Tri-State Mixed Martial Arts Competition is... Alyx Kim of Reedsport, Oregon!”
The announcer bounded on stage, cordless microphone in hand, before the referee had a chance to formally declare Alyx the victor. The referee made some motions for the fighters to formally bow-out, although the thunderous applause of the crowd and the dazzling flashes of cameras forced him to resign himself to a Director-style chair.
*
<<You fought well today.>>
Alyx spun around, coming face-to-face not with Pak, as she’d expected, but a white man in a business suit, probably in his mid-thirties. Alyx carefully set her faux-gold trophy down on a nearby wooden bench, then clasped her hands in front, politely. She was coming off an adrenaline high, however, and her brain still geared for combat.
<<Thank you.>> Alyx spoke softly, unsure as to what to say. The man smiled a little, taking a step forward, peering closely at the trophy.
“You fought well today,” he repeated, rising to his full height again. Alyx estimated he was around six feet tall, with a slim build and short brown hair that looked like it’d just been cut. There were no signs of hair on his face, and his teeth were an unnatural white – the kind only movie stars and celebrities had. His suit was a plain black one, with a crimson red tie. Alyx was no expert, but she was pretty sure it was expensive, obviously tailored to his build. “My name is Mr. Mitchell, and I’m offering you an invitation to a rather exclusive tournament.”
His hand slipped into the pocket of his pants, and he handed her a professional-looking business card. There was contact information printed for a Mr. Brandon Mitchell, but no clues as to his employment.
“I’m hosting a tournament in Kansas City this year, the annual Ludi Frenum. Don’t worry if you haven’t heard of it – I prefer to keep it that way. We’re looking for young girls with skills such as yours to compete for a $60,000 scholarship. The tournament lasts only one day, and all travel expenses will be covered by the host.”
Alyx stood dumbstruck, stupidly clutching the business card between her index and middle finger, unsure as to what to say. The man smiled, adjusting his necktie ever so slightly.
“If you’re interested, just send me an e-mail. Registration closes tomorrow, though, so I’d be quick about it.”
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
Katija smiled as her fingers flew across the keyboard, keystroke following keystroke at such a lightning pace she couldn’t consciously think about. Lines of code flew onto the page, pop-up windows flashed on her various monitors, loading screens appeared and disappeared so fast they might not have existed at all.
Kat reclined in her office chair, taking a sip of a can of Red Bull, glancing at a clock in the bottom-right corner of her computer screen. 3:31 AM. She idly weighed the costs and benefits of skipping school tomorrow, but activated her alarm clock program despite her better judgement. She wanted see first-hand if this backfired, anyways.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO INSTALL PSSWRD_DITTO.EXE ON ALL NETWORK TERMINALS? THIS MAY COMPROMISE THE SECURITY OF YOUR NETWORK? YES / CANCEL
Katija happily tapped the ENTER button on one of the keyboards on her desk, which began extracting the necessary files on the network of St. Alban the Martyr’s School for Catholic Girls, which she would be attending in a couple of hours. Once installed, these few lines of codes (which she had proudly written herself) would be installed on the school’s servers, embedding itself in other critical operation files that would make them extremely painful to remove. Once activated, the program would record the passwords of every user on the network, dutifully transmitting hundreds of log-in codes by nightfall. That would probably provide her with enough amusement for the next month or so.
PSSWRD_DITTO.EXE SUCCESSFULLY INSTALLED. WOULD YOU LIKE TO RUN THIS PROGRAM NOW? YES / CANCEL
Kat tapped the ‘yes’ button, then quickly disconnected her network cable. She was pretty sure her network of proxies – which bounced her information from Venezuela to Tonga – would make her pretty much untraceable. The program would record all the passwords in a small text file, forwarding it to her at 2 AM the following day (or night, she supposed).
Yes, ‘Cortona’ had struck again, although this time it was for pleasure and not business. Katija binta Khalid didn’t normally get any enjoyment out of her school. There were daily Chapel sessions that Kat had to attend, assignments that were as laborious as they were pointless, and teachers that were more concerned with clocking out at 2:30 PM then delivering a half-decent education.
Kat, of course, was one of the few girls the School took genuine interest in, although it wasn’t her preferred kind. Katija was a first-generation immigrant from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, struggling to gain the necessary academic credits (and cash) to study engineering in university. One way of making ends meet was through her online persona ‘Cortona’, making a few thousand dollars every week or two planting forged e-mails in office accounts or spying on so-called ‘loved’ ones. Kat was smart enough to stay away from high-risk work, not wanting to do anything that might attract serious attention. She’d had a few close calls since she started hacking back in Grade 9, although a self-wipe program on her computer had destroyed any incriminating evidence.
Kat plugged the network cable back in, wanting to check on the progress of her malware’s installation. Her hacker rig consisted of a small data server, several PC towers, a half-dozen scavenged computer monitors and a small mountain of code-filled CD-ROMs. It wasn’t the nicest-looking setup, or even particularly high-quality, but until she got a more stable (or sizeable) source of income it was the best she could do.
YOU HAVE RECEIVED A NEW MESSAGE FROM BRANDOM SMITH.
The MSN alert popped up in the bottom-right corner of one of her three computer monitors. Kat stared at the bubble in puzzlement, which disappeared a few seconds later. She was logged in as cortona91, an account she used only for ‘business’ purposes. Also, she only gave that e-mail out to potential clients, not throwing it around hacker-for-hire forums. She opened up Mozilla Firefox, scanning the e-mail from bsmith@lf.net .
HELLO CORTONA. LET’S MEET IN SECONDLIFE.
That had Katija worried, but her sense of curiosity got the better of her. Kat fired up her version of SecondLife, a social interaction quasi-game that was almost liked a toned-down multiplayer version of The Sims. Kat had painstakingly constructed an avatar that near-exactly resembled her, apart from a few minor improvements on her face.
A few minutes later, Kat’s avatar stood in a simulated office room, her hands clasped politely in her lap in front of her. Kat’s avatar stood a few inches above five feet, with a light brown skin that was a mix of Malaysian and Tamil ethnicity. She had straight black hair that stopped just above her shoulder blades, with dark green eyes and soft facial features. Opposite her carefully-constructed avatar stood a bland, generic-looking one that had probably been hastily pumped out in about five minutes.
“Hello, Cortona. I’d like to congratulate you on another successful hack.”
Adrenaline shot through Kat’s veins as she contemplated just yanking the network cable there, wondering if she should queue up her auto-erase program if the SFPD came knocking at her door. Rather than panic, though, Kat forced herself to remain calm, listening to the M.I.A. soundtrack playing on another computer. Focus, Kat. Just figure out what he wants.
“How’s it going?” Kat’s avatar asked, a fraction of a second after she typed the words out.
“Quite well. I know you need your sleep, so I won’t waste your time with social niceties. I would like to invite you to a special tournament, to be held in Kansas City.”
“Sorry, I’m not very competitive,” lied Kat. She was, of course, extremely competitive, but wanted to find out more before agreeing to anything.
“Did I mention there’s a $60,000 scholarship for the winner? I don’t think so.”
Kat sat bolt upright at this, thankful she wasn’t chatting via a webcam or any other medium that could express her shock. Her avatar remained perfectly still, giving Kat a few seconds to think out her response. $60,000 could get her into University, give her a chance at getting some honest certification, maybe learn a little more than code tricks and basic software programming...
“I’m interested.”
“I knew you would be. You have been invited because of your resourceful, intellectual talents. Although your SAT scores might not reflect it, you are one of the smartest girls in this country.”
Again, Kat was forced to steady her nerves. She was Cortona, a hyper-intelligent artificial intelligence, not Katija binta Khalid, a seventeen-year old (non-Catholic) Catholic schoolgirl. Apparently, however, this man had linked the two. As unnerving as he was, he didn’t seem like he was about to run to the police or anything.
“The tournament only lasts a day, and we’ll pay for your travel and accommodation expenses. You don’t have agree right now, just send me an e-mail confirming you presence or absence in by tomorrow evening.”
The man logged off and his digital avatar vanished, leaving the virtual Katija sitting alone in the room. Well, she thought, tonight just got a little more interesting.
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
Aurelia could hear nothing but the wind rushing in her ears and the reverberations of her feet on the sidewalk. One foot fell in front of the other at a frightening speed, rapidly bringing her closer to the edge of the building’s rooftop.
Unconsciously calculating the number of steps required to take her to the ledge, Aurelia slightly increased her speed, pumping her long legs almost as fast as she could. A few strands of her blond hair fell in front of her eyes, although she could only ignore them. She reached the edge of the rooftop, throwing one foot atop the ledge and then jumping with as much force as she could muster.
Aurelia soared through the air, arms and legs flailing despite her best effort. Four stories below her, a group of hobos in the alley stared up in surprise. A second later, Aurelia landed on the asphalt roof of the adjacent building. Rather than fight the impact, Aurelia yielded to it, letting her knees give way while tucking in her head. She ended up rolling, springing to her feat a fraction of a second later with the grace of a gymnast. She ran for a dozen more steps before she came to a stop, placing her hands on her knees and just feeling the adrenaline course through her veins.
“Did you get that?”
Aurelia spun around, eager to see if her latest feat of acrobatic prowess would be uploaded to YouTube. Kaylee jogged up to meet her, a handheld digital camera bobbing from around her neck.
“Did I ever! Aurelia that was so cool!” Aurelia simply smiled, still high on adrenaline as a result of leaping between buildings. She examined herself, pretty sure she scraped something. Aurelia was wearing only a sports bra, tight-fitting gym shorts, a pair of Nike running shoes and thin, open-tipped gloves. Kaylee unzipped a backpack slung around one shoulder, extracting a cable so she could download the video.
“That was, indeed, pretty impressive.”
Aurelia and Kaylee spun around, the former already preparing to make a dash for the fire escape. It wouldn’t be the first time her parkour exploits had gotten her in trouble with an overzealous security guard.
The speaker, however, was obviously not a security guard, wearing a long black trench coat and black leather shoes. He raised his palms up in a universal gesture of surrender, indicating he was no threat to them.
“Who are you?” demanded Aurelia. Aurelia spoke with an accent considered French even by Louisianans, a more soft-spoken tone she’d inherited from her Belgian parents.
“My name is Brandon Mitchell, and I’ve been keeping an eye out for talented girls like you.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Aurelia, although she could feel herself relaxing.
“Ms. Blanc, you are one of the most talented urban runners in the entire country. I’ve seen your exploits on YouTube and Dailymotion. You combine the acrobatic prowess with a insatiable sense of curiosity.”
“Wait, how did you know my name? And how did you know I would be here?”
“I have an ear to the ground in such affairs,” replied Mr. Mitchell, vaguely. “But let me ask you a question: how much income have all your YouTube videos produced?”
Aurelia said nothing. She’d struggled since Grade 9 to get sponsorship from any athletic clothing company, although it seemed none of them were interested in sponsoring a parkour athlete – probably worried about the possible criminal charges that were always associated with it. Four years and a few hospital trips later, she was beginning to wonder if preferred pastime was a list too cost inefficient.
“There’s no reason a young, attractive, and undeniably talented girl like yourself needs to struggle to make ends meet,” continued Mr. Mitchell, after a few second’s pause. Aurelia warmed a little at the compliment, even if she knew it was blatant flattery.
“Hey, do you have a point to make, sir?” demanded Kaylee, taking a small step forward. The man smiled softly at this.
“Ah, forgive me for this idle chit-chat. I have come to extend to you an invitation to a rather exclusive tournament being held in Kansas City this year.”
“A tournament? You mean, like a parkour tournament?”
“There are elements of parkour involved, yes,” answered Mr. Mitchell, although that was a little too vague for Aurelia’s liking. “The tournament - the Ludi Frenum – lasts for only one day. We will, of course, pay for all your travel expenses. If you should win the tournament, you would be awarded a tax-free $60,000 scholarship.”
Aurelia’s emerald green eyes widened at this. Sixty thousand dollars! That could actually get her into university. As much as she liked free running, Aurelia ultimately wanted to go into journalism. Her parents, though, were still struggling to stay head-above-water as a result of the Recession, and things were certainly looking iffy on the tertiary education front.
“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” said Mr. Mitchell, his tone ever so slightly patronizing. “Here’s my business card. Registration closes tomorrow evening, so give it some time now. Just send me an e-mail when you’ve made your decision.”
Mr. Mitchell turned around without another word, opening the rooftop door leading into the building Aurelia was sure was locked.
“So, what do you want to do?” asked Kaylee, once the door slammed shut behind him.
“Are you kidding me? This could be my big break! Forget making YouTube for publicity, this could finally give me a lucky break!”
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
Nikki brushed a few specks of near-imperceptible dirt off of the collar of her suit jacket, hoping none of the judges would realize it didn’t quite fit her. Nikki had borrowed the skirt suit from a friend slightly shorter than her, for whom the suit was a little too big. It didn’t quite work out perfectly, but standing amongst the private school elites wearing custom-tailored suits of the highest quality, Nikki knew she couldn’t afford to where any of her own clothing here.
“Presentation #12, Ms. Nikki White of the Lansing Business Preparatory Academy. Ms. White, you have five minutes to prepare your presentation.”
The tournament organizer’s voice rang over the building-wide intercom system, and Nikki practically jumped to her feet the moment she heard her name. Calm down, Nikki. Don’t blow it with overexcitement.
Nikki strolled onto the auditorium’s stage, which for now was shielded from the audience by a thick red curtain. There was a single table slightly off to the side, where Nikki carefully placed her Toshiba laptop, also borrowed from a friend. She opened up the file REBUILD.PPT, reading over her notes for the PowerPoint presentation. About a minute of fiddling later, Nikki managed to connect her laptop to the high-end Japanese digital projectors. Those alone probably cost more than her father made in a year, but Nikki pushed those thoughts to the back of her head. She had to look like she belonged in this rich-kid community, not the impoverished suburbs of Detroit that she secretly called home.
With two minutes before the curtains were raised, Nikki decided to duck off-stage, scanning notes she’d already memorized and triple-checking her jacket had no visible creases.
She’d borrowed the skirt suit from a friend back at the Academy in Lansing, not owning anything nice enough to even make the dress code. The suit was a dark black color only a few shades lighter than her own skin. A tight-fitting black pencil skirt stopped a few inches above her knees, revealing her long, lithe legs. Nikki actually thought she was a little short at 5’3”, and had borrowed a pair of five-inch high heeled shoes for the occasion. The long stiletto spike raised her to a more appropriate height, her feet tied in with a tightly-fastened buckle.
“Ms. White, you’re on in twenty seconds,” said one of the tournament’s organizers, a middle-aged woman with a clipboard in hand. “Good look.”
“Thanks,” replied Nikki, with a confidence she didn’t feel. Making sure her short brown hair was as neatly parted as she could make it; Nikki strolled onto the stage to a polite applause.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Nikki White, and I am here today to present my proposal for the restructuring of the American automotive industry...”
*
“Ms. White, you’ve won the tournament and the $1,000 cash prize,” said a reporter, forcing a microphone into Nikki’s face. “And your proposal will be forwarded to Senate panel currently reviewing this case. How do you feel?”
“Right now, I’m very thrilled to have won. It was a close race up until the very end, and the competition gave me some serious worries.” Well, it actually hadn’t been very close. She’d finished two solid points out of ten above her nearest opponent, who’d apparently lost his notes and spent half the presentation apologizing.
“Any plans for what’s next? Have your eye on any university in particular?”
Nikki’s feet were killing her, the result of having spent the past seven hours in five-inch heeled shoes. She looked at a pair of running shoes in envy, wanting to do nothing more than make it back to the bus terminal and listen to her iPod in peace.
“Nothing yet, sorry. Listen, I’ve got a bus to catch, so why don’t you just send me an e-mail with any questions you have?”
Nikki hurried off before the reporter could respond. Her bus didn’t leave for another hour and a half, and she knew waiting around the lesser-populated parts of Detroit alone and in a business suit probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Maybe she could find a Starbucks or something...
“I must admit, I’m a little surprised you won,” came the voice of what Nikki assumed was another reporter, a few paces behind her.
“Sorry, gotta run,” she reiterated, although she was pretty sure that was impossible in these shoes.
“How much is that thousand dollars really going to help, Ms. White?”
Nikki spun around, something surprisingly easily to do with an elongated heel. A middle-aged man wearing a nondescript but expensive business suit stood in front of her, a black briefcase in one hand, a business card in another.
“That’s really none of your-”
“A good university education probably costs a few tens of thousands of dollars nowadays, right? It’s been a long time since Harvard. Add in boarding, since you’re obviously going out of town... and you’ll probably want to eat... quite frankly Ms. White, I don’t think this tournament’s prize money is going to cut it.”
“Look, I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But unless you’ve got a better idea, this is my long-term plan.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Nikki had managed to get a half-dozen steps away from the man before he’d responded, once again causing her to spin around.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re looking for income, jumping from one business scenario tournament to another in attempt to get enough money to earn a Commerce degree. I have an invitation to a tournament that might make all the others irrelevant.”
“A business tournament? Case examples and all that?”
“Not quite. I’m looking for girls with exceptional talents, and you’ve been scouted. While you struggle to make ends meet, you also have one of the most astonishing minds in the country. It’d be a shame for all that talent to go to waste flipping burgers at a McDonald’s, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” murmured Nikki. She couldn’t decide if this man was just extremely well-connected or a creepy stalker. She normally kept a can of mace in her pocket for these scenarios, although she’d stored it away in her backpack when she’d donned her business suit.
“I’m hosting a tournament in Kansas City, the Ludi Frenum. It’s a one-day, all expenses paid competition. Win it, and you win a $60,000 scholarship, no strings attached.”
Nikki snorted a little in surprise, but otherwise kept her expression carefully neutral. She’d learned long ago not to get her expectations up. The man handed her his business card. “I’m Mr. Brandon Mitchell, contact information below. Just send me an e-mail by midnight tomorrow if you’re interested.”
Brandon turned away, stepping into an unremarkable black Honda Civic. Nikki stood planted to the sidewalk for a few seconds, before carefully placing the business card in her jacket’s pocket.
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI
“We’re kind of a ways away from anything, don’t you think?” asked Katija, peering out her window and the desolate landscape outside.
“Mr. Mitchell uses this one of his private retreats,” declared the chauffeur, who spoke with a thick Russian accent. “He has many activities that require a large amount of space, and he does not like to be disturbed.”
The black BMW E65 had picked her up from Kansas City International Airport, a well-dressed chauffer taking her duffel bag of possessions and tossing it in the trunk. Kat had packed nothing but a change of clothes and some hygiene supplies, while her backpack contained a laptop that was, as she preferred to call it, her tool of destruction.
“Is that it up ahead?”
Kat knew the answer before she asked. The road literally ended at the building up ahead, a sprawling concrete compound that was unremarkable apart from its size. The compound itself was hundreds of meters long and about four stories high, tinted blue windows dotting the front and a nest of satellite dishes visibly poking out of the roof.
“Yes, this is the Coliseum, as Mr. Mitchell likes to call it. He built it back in 1987 and used it to direct his operations in the Mid-West region of America.”
“Huh.”
Katija sat back in her seat, letting the plush, all-leather interior lull her to sleep. Her Business Class tickets had made the flight from San Francisco to Kansas City as painless as possible, but she still wasn’t a fan of travelling in the wee hours of the night.
As they got closer to the Coliseum, Katija could make out a long fence surrounding the entire perimeter of the building. It was a simple chain-link fence probably twelve feet high, although it was topped with a few rows of barbed wire. Perhaps most disconcerting was that the barbed wire was facing inwards. The BMW grounded to a halt at a security booth at the end of the road, the chauffer exchanging a few quick words with one of the guards in Russian. Seconds later, the fence parted, and they drove on through. Kat couldn’t help but watch as the gates closed behind them.
“Please relax, Ms. Khalid. Mr. Mitchell has gone to great efforts to ensure your comfort.”
“Uh, thanks,” replied Kat, slinking down in her seat.
*
“Your room is Number 213,” said the receptionist, a young Indian woman wearing a tight skirt suit. She passed a keycard to Alyx. “Everyone will be meeting on that floor’s lobby at 6 PM, Central Time. Casual attire.”
“Thank you,” replied Alyx, picking up the keycard and tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans. She then picked up the oversized duffel bag that had all her travel materials, slinging it over her back.
The Coliseum’s lobby was large but fairly empty. The receptionist, Ms. Singh, judging by her nametag, sat along at a large, semi-circular wood-panelled desk, next to several elevators. Every so often somebody wearing a business suit or a maintenance jumpsuit would walk by, obviously more focused on whatever other business Mr. Mitchell conducted than a few visiting schoolgirls.
Alyx walked into an open elevator, and tapped the button for the second floor. The Coliseum had three stories above ground and at least two basements, judging from the control panel. A small security camera was fitted in one corner of the room, while mirrors fitted in all the other corners made sure it saw her from all angles.
Floor 2 appeared to be nothing but bedrooms, apparently. Alyx walked down a carpeted hallway lined with doors on either side, each bearing a name and title. She wondered idly if these could actually be offices, but there was far too little traffic for this to be true. So Mr. Mitchell had more than a few live-in staff. Alyx reached Room 213 a few seconds later, swiping her keycard. A bolt audible shifted in position as a green light flashed above the handle, and Alyx let herself in.
As her chauffer had told her, Mr. Mitchell liked to make his guests feel comfortable. Alyx could see that this was true. The room was fairly small, but had a Queen-sized bed opposite a high-definition flat screen television, adjacent to a fully-furnished bathroom. Alyx dumped her duffel bag at the foot of the bed, glancing at a digital alarm clock resting on a bedside table. 5:33 PM. She had enough time for a shower.
Stripping nude, Alyx stepped into the bathroom shower, where soap and a bottle of French shampoo were waiting, letting cold water flow out of the showerhead. Alyx was used to cold showers, and in fact preferred them, having long ago associated them with a long workout or a good fight.
Alyx had agreed to fly out to Kansas City less than an hour after she received the invitation. She felt a twinge of guilt about not informing her instructor about this, having simply told him that a ‘family crisis’ would have her out of town for the next few days. She’d received more detailed instructions in a follow-up e-mail a few hours later, and had been on a plane to Kansas City a few days later. Her parents were a little confused about her sudden departure, but Alyx had convinced them it was for an exclusive tournament for tae kwon do champions, and that her invitation had been received late.
A few minutes later, Alyx stepped out of the shower, grabbing a white towel and beginning to dry herself off. The shower was cold enough that it hadn’t actually fogged up the bathroom’s mirror, allowing Alyx to comb her hair immediately after. She had never been too concerned with her physical appearance, never following the latest clothing trends or mimicking a celebrity’s hairstyle. Most of the bruises on her face from the tournament had disappeared by now, although she still had a small scratch above her eye from a desperate (and illegal) nail attack.
Once dry, Alyx applied deodorant, putting on a black bra and like-coloured panties. She then slipped on a pair of tight-fitting black denim jeans, a white T-shirt with the GameCube’s logo on it and a loose black hoodie atop that. Walking back into the bathroom, she pulled on a pair of white socks and a pair of running shoes, tying her hair back in a short ponytail behind her head, a few strands veiling the left side of her face. 5:54 PM. Well, might as well get going. It wasn’t like she had a lot of other things to be doing...
*
“Oh, is that maki sushi?”
Aurelia bounded in the room, wearing tight-fitting white sweatpants and a low-hanging crop top, a pair of expensive Nike shoes on her feet. She had natural blond hair that most girls her age would have killed for, but Aurelia didn’t give it a second thought most days. She’d actually contemplated dying it black once or twice.
Katija, Alyx and Nikki were all seated around a small wooden table, about the size one would get in a restaurant. The table was low to the ground and surrounded by pillows, covered with a variety of Japanese dishes.
Aurelia sat down in the seiza position, kneeling on the floor with her calves underneath her thighs, her butt resting on the balls of her shoes, as was traditional in many Asian societies. Alyx and Katija also sat like that, although Nikki sat cross-legged. Aurelia picked up a pair of wooden chopsticks and began plucking pieces of expertly-rolled maki sushi off of a tray, a smile coming to her face as the first roll was deposited in her mouth.
“You can’t get good sushi back in New Orleans,” she said, her mouth still half-full. “I mean, it makes sense and everything, but it’s too bad.”
“You’re from New Orleans?” asked Kat, trying to break the awkward silence that descended when Aurelia stopped talking. Neither Alyx nor Nikki were particularly talkative, although Kat couldn’t blame them. “You’re accent sounds textbook French.”
“Oh, that’s my parents’ influence,” replied Aurelia, picking up a piece of sashimi. “My parents are from Antwerp originally. That’s in Belgium. I kind of inherited their accent.”
“So, what’s your specialty?” asked Alyx, after a few seconds’ silence. She had a small bowl of rice in her hand and was expertly delivering it to her mouth with a pair of chopsticks.
“Hm?” asked Aurelia.
“Specialty. What’s your martial arts focus? Let me guess – capoeira?”
“Martial arts?” Aurelia let out a short laugh. “Ah, no. I’m no good in fights, I always run away. I do parkour. Urban running, free climbing, acrobatics, that kind of stuff.” Aurelia gave another short laugh, popping open a can of Coca-Cola and taking a sip. “What made you think I did capoeira?”
“Well, I was under the impression this was a mixed martial arts tournament,” said Alyx. Nikki sat bolt upright at this, while Katija tried to hide her surprise by forcing a large mouthful of rice between her teeth. “I started off doing tae kwon do, then picked up some judo and hapkido. You don’t look like you have the build for most traditional martial arts; I figured you’d go for something more speed-based. Weird.”
“I think we’re missing the bigger picture, here,” said Katija, setting her chopsticks down. “I don’t have any athletic talents at all. I’m an engineer, a programmer... a hacker, really.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Alyx. All three of them looked at Nikki, who shrugged her shoulders.
“I have no idea, I don’t even have technical skills. I just won a business case study competition. I’m good with math, financing, accounting, economics.”
“What competition could possibly involve all four of us?” asked Aurelia. She expressed concern, although Alyx figured she was the least stressed of all of them. Aurelia was a runner by nature. She had learned how to dodge just about anything, get just about anywhere. It have given her a somewhat carefree outlook on life.
“Ladies, please excuse my tardiness. It seems the traffic controllers in Panama are on strike.”
Brandon Mitchell strolled into the room, wearing black dress pants and a like-coloured dress shirt. He seemed completely unflappable, every hair was carefully positioned, his leather shoes literally shone. Brandon knelt in seiza at the table between Alyx and Nikki, although did not move for any food.
“I’m sure you all have many questions, but please let me say my part first. I’ll probably answer most of them anyways.
“The Ludi Frenum is no ordinary tournament. Each year, four high school girls from across the United States are chosen to compete in a contest that calls on a wide variety of skills. As you have no doubt determined already, there isn’t much by means of common dominator amongst you. Alyx is a martial artist, possibly the best of her age. Aurelia does parkour, and has a freedom of movement unmatched in today’s society. Nikki is an economic theorists, with the budding potential to make huge contributions to the fields of economics and political science. And, of course, Katija, a talented computer programmer and hacker, managing to remain both infamous and out of jail.
“The Ludi Frenum is not simply a tournament where we see who can run faster or fight harder. It will require all your skills. Some of you might seem to have an advantage one round, only for those advantages to be handicaps the next. It is impossible to predict who will win, because past winners have nothing in common.
“In order to keep everyone on equal footing, I cannot tell you much more about the competition than you already know. The tournament starts tomorrow morning, and will be finished by midnight. I can tell you now that yes, parts of it will be painful. You may find yourselves embarrassed and humiliated, or trapped and unable to escape. If you sign up, you are agreeing to participate in the competition until the following midnight, regardless of later wishes.
“I would, of course, also like to remind you of the benefits. The winner will be paid $60,000, which I believe will help nicely in funding any university goals. Everything that happens during the tournament will remain completely private – it will never be shared or distributed.
“If any of you do not feel comfortable participating, please tell me now. You will be returned to your home city, free of charge.”
Nobody said anything. Alyx stared at him with stony determination. Nikki lowered her gaze a little, biting her lower lip. Kat poked the inside of the cheek with her tongue, and Aurelia swallowed another roll of sushi.
“Where do I sign up?” said Kat, breaking the silence. Mr. Mitchell smiled, and a few seconds later an aide appeared beside him, bearing a small stack of papers and a handful of fountain pens.
“Take time to read this over.” Mr. Mitchell handed her a piece of paper and a pen. Kat squinted at the fine black text, half-heartedly skimming it before signing her name in flowery cursive about ten seconds later. “Thank you,” said Mr. Mitchell, collecting the sheet. “Anyone else?”
Alyx signed next, shortly followed by Aurelia and Nikki. Mr. Mitchell collected the documents and handed them off to his aide, before rising to his feet.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’m afraid I have a teleconference with some men from Bangkok in a few minutes. I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of entertainment – there’re some video game consoles over by the TV and a small library downstairs. We get all the satellite channels, too. I would, however, advice you to take an early bedtime.”
*
“I don’t understand how this works,” said Aurelia, squinting in confusion.
“Come on, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you can’t pass it up,” said Katija.
“You’ll figure it out as you go along. I’ll help you as if I can,” added Alyx.
They all sat back, wireless Xbox 360 controllers in hand, manipulating armoured supersoldiers and aliens who ran about shooting at each other in a desolate desert.
“Look at this,” murmured Katija, once the game started going. “A one-hundred-and-two-inch plasma TV, and I get to play Halo 3 on it.”
“I read about these once,” said Nikki, awkwardly holding the controller. “Samsung is the only one that makes them. They cost something like forty-five thousand dollars.”
“And he has one in a small lounge?” asked Alyx, incredulously.
“Yeah it’s... hey, stop shooting me! I’m on your team!”
“Oops, sorry,” replied Aurelia. “But you’re a human. I thought I was supposed to-”
“It’s by color, not species,” explained Alyx. There was silence for about half a minute, as half of the players struggled to understand the basic game mechanics. A minute later Alyx’s avatar lay dead in the sand, having been shot through the helmet from a high-powered sniper rifle.
“Wow, you picked that up pretty fast,” said Alyx, genuine surprise in her voice.
“Well, you just like to stand and fight there,” explained Aurelia, pausing momentarily to turn up the sensitivity of her analog sticks. “Your outlook on fighting, I’d guess. But you take less damage if you keep moving about, and toughness doesn’t matter in this game.”
“For psychoanalysis, that doesn’t sound half bad,” admitted Alyx. A well-placed fragmentation grenade sent Nikki’s avatar hurling into a wall. “You know, we’re kind of two sides of the same coin. I have strength and endurance, you have speed and agility. How about this – if it’s possible in the tournament for me to help you, I’ll do it, assuming it doesn’t compromise my own chances of winning. And you’ll do the same for me.”
“Sounds fair,” agreed Aurelia. “Deal.”
“Hey, wait, that’s against the rules,” argued Nikki, still struggling to get comfortable with the control scheme.
“Actually, I don’t think it is,” replied Katija. “I haven’t seen a rulebook anywhere. I think pretty much anything goes.”
“Alright, then... how about we align?” proposed Nikki.
“Same deal? Fine. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
“Well, this just got a little more interesting,” said Alyx, leaning back in an oversized beanbag chair. Her avatar squeezed the trigger of a rocket launcher, exploding a vehicle Aurelia’s avatar had the misfortune to be driving. The game finished. “Look, as fun as this is, I’ve got some aerobic routines I need to do. Can’t lose my edge or anything. See you tomorrow morning.”
“Uh, yeah, it’s getting pretty late,” agreed Katija, glancing at the satellite TV’s clock. It was eleven-thirty, although she hadn’t fallen asleep earlier than that for years. “Catch you tomorrow morning.”
Aurelia and Nikki rose and murmured goodbyes, before returning to their respective rooms.
Mitchell watched all this through the screens of a half-dozen computer monitors, each feeding live video recorded from a network of hidden security cameras embedded in every room in the Coliseum. Once each girl was in her respective room, Mitchell tapped a few keys activating the electronic bolts. Didn’t need to have anyone wandering about at this point.
“DARTMOUTH Team, prepare for Phase II,” said Mitchell, leaning back in his chair. He glanced at his watch. In a few hours, the game would truly be afoot.
*
“I’m sorry, but all the doors are automatically locked after midnight,” said the pleasant-toned receptionist. “If you dial 350, however, our maintenance staff can deliver any amnesties to your room that you need.”
“No... no, that won’t be necessary,” said Alyx. “Thank you.”
Alyx hung up the receiver, and attempted to force the handle down for the umpteenth time. No luck. And, of course, even if she did that still wouldn’t move the wrought iron bolt keeping the door in place. Alyx wished she’d read that contract a little more closely, but figured this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. It was just weird.
Walking into the bathroom, Alyx methodically brushed her teeth, flossed and combed her hair, before stripping down to her undergarments, flicking off the light switch and crawling underneath the bed’s covers.
It was surprisingly comfortable, and at no time at all she was asleep.
*
5:41 AM
“Ah, what the fuck?” murmured Katija, rolling over in her bed. She was a soft sleeper, and it sounded like the bolt locking her door shut had just been opened. She sat up, tapping her notebook computer resting on the bedside table, bathing the room in a blue light from the screen.
There were at least three men, all wearing balaclavas and moving rapidly towards her. Katija let out a yelp of surprise and rolled out of bed, wearing a pair of white panties and an oversized blue T-shirt. She felt the fuzzy carpet on the soles of her bare feet, and she planned to dive into the bathroom, maybe call Security from there...
“Îñòàíîâèòå åå,” barked one of the men, speaking a language Katija’s adrenaline-fuelled brain simply classified as ‘not English’. One foot managed to reach the cold linoleum tiles of the bathroom before a strong hand grabbed her right forearm, yanking her back into the bedroom and tossing her onto the bed, face-down.
Before she could roll over, however, fifty thousand volts of energy raced through her body, causing her to screen in pain and surprise. A second shot hit her a few seconds later, and then everything went black...
*
6:30 AM
There is a very large, angry porcupine in my skull thought Nikki. Am I hung-over? No...where am I?
At first, Nikki figured she was still in her room with the lights turned off. But that couldn’t be right. She’d left the blinds open, so there should be some sunlight. She could feel herself breathing heavily, sweat dripping down her forehead. Keep calm, Nikki. What happened?
What was the last thing she remembered? She’d taken a shower, gone to bed and... there’d been some disturbance in the night. Something had violently awoken her. She’d been in that quasi-dream state where reality was indistinguishable from imaginary figments.
Is this part of the competition? Has it started?
She tried to wipe the sweat from her brow only to find her arm refused to budge. A surge of panic taking root in her mind, Nikki desperately tried to lash out in every direction, to scream, to run away, only to find that none of them were possible.
Four overhead lights suddenly turned on, illuminating the room with artificial brightness. Nikki’s eyes snapped shut as her pupils attempt to dilate to the appropriate degree, having gone from nothing to everything in a fraction of a second. Once her eyes were properly adjusted Nikki took in her surroundings, trying to calm her pounding heart and consciously slow her breathing.
The room was basically a small cell, about two meters wide, one meter long and two meters high. The room was completely unfurnished, not even a cot against the wall, the floor, walls and ceiling made out of an identical grey concrete material. A small, dome-shaped security camera was mounted in every corner of the cell’s ceiling, providing her with no means of moving undetected. There was a small door built into one of the walls, although the bolts keeping it shut were thick and visible.
“I apologise, ladies,” came the voice of Brandon Mitchell, coming from a speaker overhead that Nikki couldn’t see. “As per tournament rules, all players have to start out on equal footing. It is now 6:31 AM Central Time and Round 1 of the Ludi Frenum has begun.
“Round 1 is the Escape Round, and its rules are simple enough. Right now you are all in bondage in a sub-basement of the Coliseum. Outside of your cells... and past a short obstacle course... is the exit. The last person to reach it will be eliminated...”
*
“In order to reach the exit, you will have to escape the articles of bondage you are currently trapped in.”
Yeah, easier said than done thought Katija.
“As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” continued Mr. Mitchell, a note of smugness in his voice, “you’ve all been gagged, and there is a sock in your mouth. Inside that sock is the key to your cell door. Simply follow the obvious route to escape. Best of luck.”
Well, this is going to be fun.
Katija stared up at the low ceiling, looking into the well-polished lenses of the surveillance camera. It was, in fact, reflective enough to give her a clear image of herself. If nothing else, it would at least let her know what she was dealing with.
It was not a comforting sight.
Looking at her reflection, she saw herself wearing a tight-fitting scarlet red catsuit, the latex fabric clinging tightly to her skin and leaving only her head uncovered. The catsuit, however, seemed to be something of a catsuit-straitjacket hybrid. The sleeves themselves wrapped around to the small of her back, kept in place by a handful of tightly-fastened buckles. Her arms were tightly pinned just below her breasts, rendering her hands completely useless.
That, of course, was hardly the end of it. A pair of black plastic zip cuffs bound her ankles and knees together, the same disposable plasticuffs typically used by riot police. A tight-fitting leather collar was locked around her neck (the collar’s color matching her catsuit), a foot-long metal chain dangled from a D-ring in a manner akin to a leashed pet. On top of all that a Dalmatian-patterned piece of cloth was tightly wrapped around her mouth, which prevented her from spitting out the large sock that was causing her cheeks to puff out, completely silencing her.
Katija tried to scream, if only to see how effective the gag was. She produced nothing but a mmmmmmmgh that was no louder than the volume of a normal conversation.
Well, he wouldn’t have designed an inescapable challenge though Kat. She rolled onto her stomach and began looking for a way out.
*
A hook!
Aurelia would have smiled in delight, had her jaw not been seriously aching already. She was wearing a snow white catsuit, but was otherwise identically restrained. While the others were nervously wondering how they’d ever get anywhere, Aurelia embraced the challenge.
Back in elementary school, Aurelia had prided herself as being an amateur escape artist. While she’d never been able to escape a straitjacket, she’d slipped out of all manner of rope and tape contraptions. This was simply a little more secure than the nylon rope of Eighth Grade, she reasoned.
Rolling on her stomach, Aurelia wormed her way close to the hook, which was small enough to be easily overlooked. It was perhaps two centimetres tall and just a few inches above floor level, hidden next to the cell block door. Aurelia slowly pushed herself along the concrete floor with her ziptied feet.
A few seconds later Aurelia reached the hook, and snagged the cloth over-the-mouth gag on it. Yanking back, she managed to lift the cloth from above her lips, although it was still tightly tied behind her head. Spitting the foul-tasting sock out of her mouth, Aurelia spent the better part of the next minute using her teeth to shake the small key out.
Is this really a challenge?
Aurelia managed to scoop the key up between her front teeth, then precariously stood up, taking all her years of balance training to keep from falling over. Waddling to the door, Aurelia slipped the key into a small keyhole around waist-height, turning it with her teeth. There was a satisfying clunk sound as the door was unbolted, and it immediately swung outwards on its hinges.
“Hey, Mr. Mitchell?” said Aurelia, looking at one of the domed security cameras. “This isn’t exactly hard. I’ll be out of here in no time.”
“Famous last words,” said Brandon, speaking softly to himself.
*
“Pink?”
Alyx tried to spin around as fast as she could, which wasn’t easy, considering her ankles had a fraction of a centime of space between them. She found herself facing Aurelia, who was standing a few feet away.
Alyx had managed to escape from her cell fairly quickly, although not before wasting a few minutes futilely struggling. The four cells, it appeared, were all in a line, embedded against one wall in a much larger room, although one almost equally barren. The wall directly opposite the cells, however, was not connected to the ceiling. It was instead dotted with pegs, although for what purpose neither girl could guess.
“Nice to see you’re up and about, Aurelia,” said Alyx.
“They gave you a neon pink catsuit?”
Alyx reddened despite herself, staring down at the skin-tight, hot pink latex catsuit they’d found it appropriate to trap her in. Alyx, of course, didn’t so much as own a pink T-shirt back at home – mixed martial arts was not an activity where femininity was particularly valued. Forcing her to wear neon pink was probably Mitchell’s idea of a joke.
“Can we place just focus on the task at hand?” asked Alyx, trying to regain some of her dignity.
“Sure,” replied Aurelia, her tone completely unworried. “This is pretty neat, huh? I mean, I didn’t quite expect this.”
“Being kidnapped, imprisoned, tied, gagged and humiliated? No, it caught me by surprise, too.” Alyx looked around the room, which was probably ten meters long and wide. Once they reached the other side, Alyx saw the pegs formed something of a ladder. Each jutted about thirty centimetres out of the wall, and they formed two longs columns, spaced about a foot apart. It was obviously intended that they were to climb over the wall – alluded to my a small arrow – but how to accomplish that in her bound form escaped Alyx.
“Hey, look at this!” said Aurelia, grabbing Alyx’s attention. Aurelia pressed her back against a small button on one side of the wall. On the far side, a small pair of scissors attached to a chain dropped from the ceiling. When Aurelia leaned off the button, the scissors quickly ascended, far out of a reach.
“Huh. Trying to make us cooperate. Alright, Aurelia, lower them again. I’ll free you once I get free.”
Aurelia nodded, a her blond hair bobbing as she did so. The scissors quickly dropped from the ceiling, and Alyx hopped over to where they rested on the floor.
“Can you cut your way of the catsuit with those?” asked Aurelia, still leaning on the button. She made a show of struggling in the straitjacket, of course to no avail.
“Nope,” said Alyx, peering closely at them. “They’re the super-dull kind – the type they give to kindergarteners. I’m guessing were just supposed to cut through these plasticuffs shackles.”
Alyx sat down, trying to figure out how to do this while entombed in tight-fitting latex. She managed to wedge the scissors between her ankles with her knees tucked to her chest, practically sawing her way through. After three log, aggravating minutes, Alyx managed to cut herself free.
Five minutes later, Alyx and Aurelia no longer had their ankles bound together, much to their pleasure. Aurelia simply sat down and spread her legs as wide as possible, although that caused the latex to pull tight around her crotch.
“Alright, over the wall we go!”
*
“Come on, Alyx and Aurelia are definitely going to be ahead of us,” said Nikki, awkwardly standing herself up.
“Hey, we’d be right up there with them if it hadn’t taken you so long to un-gag yourself,” retorted Katija. Nikki was wearing a tar-black catsuit that, in Kat’s opinion, beautifully matched her skin, while she remained confined in her scarlet version. Red was not her color.
The other side of the wall contained a room not dissimilar from the one they’d encountered upon exiting their cells. The notable difference, however, was that the floor changed about five feet in, changing from a dull grey concrete color to a black, metal-like tiling.
“Alright, let’s go,” said Nikki, after a moment’s hesitation. She placed one latex-covered foot on the black tiling. “Ow!”
Nikki stumbled back in surprise, lost her balance, and landed with a hard thud on the concrete floor.
“It’s electrified?” guessed Katija.
“Ow. Fuck yes,” moaned Nikki. “Well, it’s not that bad. It just stings.”
“Well, I’m guessing there’s a smarter way across,” replied Kat. She tried to brush a few hairs out of her face, before the straitjacket quickly reminded her that was impossible. “Hey, what’s this?”
Kat gestured with her chin at a small hook dangling from a chain in a corner of the room. Upon walking over, she found it was on a small line of rollers. Connected to the ceiling by the chain, the hook could be dragged from one end of the room to the other, where a cement, non-electrified floor awaited.
“Hey, I’ll bet this has something to do with getting across,” declared Nikki, strolling over a few seconds later.
“Gee, really Gordon Freeman?” replied Katija, sarcastically.
“What?”
“Ah, video game reference, you see... never mind.”
“This hook is way too sharp to hold in your mouth,” pointed out Nikki. There was a few seconds silence. “Oh, so that what they’re for.”
Kat stood on her tippy-toes and snagged the hook on the metal D-ring of the collar tightly fastened around her neck. The chain gave a little bit of slack, but not much. There was, however, an audible click from something above.
“That probably disabled the electric floor,” pointed out Nikki. She took a precarious step forward, finding the tile un-electrified. “So far so good.” She took a second, more confident step, only to yelp in pain as electricity coursed through her body. She stumbled back, landing flat on her stomach.
“I’m guessing it only disables tiles in close proximity,” hypothesized Kat. “That’s why it’s on the slide.”
“So, what - I squeeze next to you?” Nikki was still lying on her stomach, something particularly uncomfortable due to the straitjacket. Kat sucked in her lips, then began running. “Hey, wait for me!”
Nikki scrambled to her feet, although Kat was already several steps away. Nikki gritted her teeth and took a bold step onto the electrified floor. Once again the electricity shocked her foot, and she was forced to jump back, wincing in pain.
“I’m really sorry, Nikki,” apologised Katija, halfway across the mat. “Really, I am. But somebody’s got to be eliminated and it sure as hell won’t be me.”
“You fucking bitch!” cursed Nikki. “Treacherous little cunt!”
“No sense getting angry about it,” said Katija. Perverse as it was, she was actually enjoying this a little. She reached the concrete floor on the opposite side of the room and unhooked the hook from her collar. “Best of luck, though.”
*
“It’s about time you finally showed up,” muttered Alyx, when Katija finally rounded the corner. She waited for a few seconds. “Aurelia, you owe me twenty bucks when this is over.”
“Why?” asked Kat, joining up with the two leaders.
“I bet Aurelia you’d ditch Nikki on the electric floor. And unless she’s just running a little behind...”
“No, she’s not. But why are you guys waiting around?”
The three girls stared at each other, each desperate for this to be over. Kat really wanted to just stretch her arms. Aurelia rolled on the balls of her feet, apparently unperturbed by her scenario. And Alyx... Alyx looked like she was going to explode if she was confined to the pink catsuit for much longer.
“I’m guessing this is the end of the round,” said Aurelia, gesturing with her head at the room they were in. “Although I think Mitchell wants all three of us to be in the room at the same time. See that door over there?” Kat glanced at the solid-iron door. “There are three keyholes, each of them spread apart. That means we need three people.”
“Okay, but where do we get three keys?” asked Katija.
“No idea,” interjected Alyx. “But I’m guessing it has to do with escaping these straitjackets. Which has to do with this button.”
Alyx walked over to a tile on the floor that looked slightly different from the others. She and Aurelia both stepped on it, apparently having done so before. Three hooks about a foot long descended from the ceiling, but stopped about ten feet above the ground. When Aurelia stepped off, the hooks ascended another half-dozen feet.
Catching on, Katija followed Aurelia onto the tile, and the hooks descended again. This time, however, they apparently caught on something, because when Alyx stepped off they did not rise again.
“Oh my god, is that what I think it is?” asked Katija, walking over to the sharpened hook. It was tipped right at the small of her back, just beneath where the straps binding her arms to her chest were fastened.
Nobody offered an answer, instead hurrying to the nearest spike and promptly slashing upwards, freeing their arms. The oversized sleeves drooped to around their knees, although each girl was quick to slip out of her bindings. Katija was relieved to find she was still wearing a tight-fitting red bra and panties, matching her catsuit, although they were definitely not her own. Kat unbuckled the tight-fitting collar that had wrapped around her neck, tossing it to the floor triumphantly.
“Alright, where are the keys?” demanded Alyx. She patted her near-nude form down, checking to make sure it wasn’t wedged in the back of her panties or whatnot.
“Hey, you guys are still here?”
Alyx, Aurelia and Katija spun around to see Nikki standing tall and proud at the room’s entrance, still tightly bound in her black straitjacket catsuit but an expression of superiority on her face.
“Nikki?” said Katija, more a declaration of surprise than an actual question. “H-how did you get here?”
“With some solid determination,” said Nikki, sizing up the room they were in. She quickly walked over to a hook while the others will still in shock. “It hurt, you know, a lot.” Kat noticed for the first time a certain wetness to her cheeks that had probably come from years. “I don’t think Mitchell intended for me to get across alone. But determination is a pretty valuable trait, don’t you think?”
“Uh, yeah,” said Alyx, somewhat confused. Nikki quickly hooked her straitjacket and sliced her way to freedom.
“We’re still looking for the keys to open the door,” explained Aurelia, surveying the room.
“Oh, really?” said Nikki, a sinister smile coming to her face. Kat took a step back, and spotted Alyx dropping into a loosely defensive position.
Nikki moved with a blinding speed, grabbing her catsuit and slicing off the sleeves using the sharpened hook. Aurelia turned around just as Nikki was bearing down on her, and caught completely off-guard when Nikki pulled her legs up from beneath. Aurelia landed with a smack on her stomach, although Nikki was on top of her before she could spin around. Grabbing one of the latex sleeves, Nikki grabbed Aurelia’s wrists and pulled them behind her back.
“Ah! What the hell are you doing, Nikki? I thought we were on a team?”
“Oh poor, naive Aurelia,” lambasted Nikki, binding Aurelia’s hands tightly behind her back with a latex sleeve. Nikki grabbed another sleeve, and set to work binding Aurelia’s feet, which were thrashing violently. “Don’t you see? You’re probably the biggest threat to me. This is just eliminating the competition.”
“Hey, come on, this is just a game! Can’t we-”
Before Aurelia could finish her sentence, however, Nikki pulled a pant leg from the catsuit, tied a knot in the middle, and promptly cleave gagged her. Tying the knot tightly behind her head, Nikki smiled in satisfaction as Aurelia uselessly thrashed on the floor.
“That was... cold,” said Alyx, still remaining in a defensive posture.
“Yeah. I’d have thought you’d have gone for me,” said Katija, still keeping a safe distance between herself and Nikki.
“Relax, Kat, I understand,” said Nikki, ripping off another strip. She tied Aurelia’s ankles and wrists together in a tight hogtie. “You were just acting out of your own self-interest. I’d have done the same. Oh, the keys are inside the catsuits, by the way.”
Katija and Alyx quickly turned their catsuits upside down and, sure enough, two keys clanged on the floor. Nikki concentrated on adding a blindfold to Aurelia’s bondage.
“I... think you got her,” said Katija, looking at Aurelia. The girl was wearing nothing but her underwear, hogtied, gagged and blindfolded, unable to make so much as a loud mmmf. Nikki shrugged her shoulders and picked up her key, slipping it into one of the locks.
“Round Two, here we come,” murmured Katija.
*
TO BE CONTINUED...[?]
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