## Chain Story

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Tue Apr 28, 2009 9:16 pm

I have a question.
Has anybody on this board tried writing a chain story, like the ones you see on writing forums? (For those of you who don't know what I mean, it's a story that one person starts and someone else continues and hands off to the next person) I thought about starting one, but I thought I'd check here to see if anybody would be interested in adding to one.
I've written parts of chain stories on writing forums before and it's really fun if lots of people participate. And I know that there's a lot of creativity on this board. (At least if that crazy "My Hill" topic is anything to go by)
So, whaddaya think?
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Wed Apr 29, 2009 9:58 am

Come up with a beginning and im sure many of us would join in.
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Tue Jun 23, 2009 9:19 am

Here i'll start it:
Officer Brad Olens had had a bad day. He was assigned to "escorting" a young latino woman back to the mexican border so she could be extradited to Guatemala; an obvious dupe job. As he sailed down the Arizona highway in his Ford Mustang Nevada state police cruiser, his mind wandered to issues beyond the road and his prisoner. He was losing respect at the office, and this assignment was a clear indicator. Brad dropped out of the daze when he was disturbed by his passenger, the brunette bank robber named Szora. "Hey!" she shouted to the weary middle aged officer.
"What? What is it?" Brad asked his handcuffed companion as he snapped out of his daze.
"I've gotta use a restroom!" she excalimed.
"You've gotta pee? Well just say so, there's a nice bunch of rocks over there off to the side of road, here i'll pull off." Brad began to decelerate the vehicle.
"No! Ive gotta use a restroom! They didn't let me do my makeup, my hair, or anything back at the station. I need to freshen up!" Szora tried to emphasize the importance of all of this, but Officer Olens grinned and said, "Girl, where your going, i'm pretty sure there's no one to impress. Now you quiet down, I can't concentrate."
With that Brad brought the car to a halt and lit up what looked like a cigarette, but smelled otherwise. "Your a state trooper and your committing a crime right in front of me! First you won't let a girl clean up, now your smoking pot! I knew you were dirty! I'll report yo--mmrpmph!" Szora could do little but wriggle and mumble as Brad shoved a wadded up handkerchief into the loud and obnoxious woman's mouth.
"Shh... Now i've dealt with many desperate mex thieves, murderers, and drug smugglers, but you've gotta be the loudest bitch i've ever set in my cruiser." Szora spat the cloth out angrily and began to scream, "Your an ass! I hope you have a good lawyer, i'm going to have you fire-mmmmrph," Brad pressed his hand over her mouth, "See what I mean? Your gonna have to be quieter than that if i'm to get you to Juarez in one piece."
With that Brad pulled a roll of duct tape out of his side panel, and said, "There's two ways we can do this, you can fight and get this stuff all in your hair, or you can set still and put that handkerchief back in your mouth." Szora, with her hair on the line, was a bit more agreeable, and giving Brad her meanest death stare, set the cloth on her tongue and closed her lips. "Good, I knew you could be nice, nice and quiet that is," Officer Olens said jestingly as he pressed a large strip of tape across the bottom part of Szora's face. Brad took one last toke on his joint, threw the remainder out the window, and satisfied with the silence, restarted the mustang. As the pair rolled down the road, Brad took quiet notice of an approaching motorcycle behind the cruiser a ways that seemed to be tailing them.
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston

### Re: Chain Story

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Wed Jun 24, 2009 5:27 pm

Thanks Soul Reb, I kinda forgot about this post.
Glancing into his rear views every few seconds, Brad stepped on the gas pedal lightly, trying to gain speed as subtly as he could. But even as the gauge climbed over a hundred miles an hour, the motorcycles kept pace. In his mind Brad tried to come up with options. Depending on what bikes they were riding, he could possibly outrun them in his cruiser, but if he was wrong and revealed he was on to them...
The border was still a good four hours away, and dusk was falling. Finally Brad decided to bide his time for another few minutes, still subtly accelerating to as fast as his engine would allow him.
The bizarre chase lasted for another twenty minutes, as a Brad blew down the highway beyond any reasonable speed limit, and the motorcycles continued to follow at a safe distance. Every once in a while Brad would look back to his duct taped prisoner in the back seat, she seemed as nervous about the tailing motorcycles as he was. It was obvious she had something to do with it.
As Brad was glancing back at her, she let out a high pitched squeal, and he ripped his head back to the road ahead of him.
Three more motorbikes and a black pickup truck had pulled up on the road directly ahead of him. Brad slammed on the breaks and moved the car into a fast left turn, sending Szora flying forward against the front seats with a thud. She muttered angrily under the duct tape.
With the car at a stop, Brad noticed a small dirt road on the left side of the highway. No wonder they'd been able to appear so fast.
The three bike riders had each dismounted and were approaching the cruiser. Each clad in a leather riding jacket with a M4 carbine on their backs. One marched up to the window and tapped on in it with his knuckles. Brad had no choice but to role his window down.
"Who are you?" Brad demanded.
"Someone who's interested in doing a little business." The biker replied quickly.
Brad noticed that all three of the bikers looked latino. Not at all unlike Szora.
"What business?"
"You're taking Szora Alavarez to the mexican border right?"
Brad looked back to her, she sat awkwardly between the seats where she'd been thrown. Her death glare replaced by a look of fear.
"Obviously."
"You hand her over to us, turn around and we go our separate ways. How does that sound?"
"And what do I get?"
"Call it five thousand."
Brad's right hand clung to the nine millimeter in it's holster. These men had automatic rifles with the safeties off. He knew that he could give them what they wanted, or they could kill him and take it anyway. He looked back to Szora. She shook her head from side to side and wordlessly pleaded with him not to give her up.
Brad thought: I'm dirty. But not that dirty.
He suddenly pulled out his pistol and fired three shots out the open window into the biker. Firing a few more rounds to keep his buddies' heads down, he kicked his car into drive and floored it, diving strait for the dirt road that the bikers appeared from.
Machine gun fire rattled from behind, sending bullets sailing through his back windshield and into the chassis of his car. Szora dived between the front and back seats for cover, squealing through the duct tape gagging her. Brad kept his foot on the gas and took off as fast as he possibly could. The road twisted and turned, sending the car sliding with every turn.
He had enough of a headstart that the bikes couldn't see him over the hilly terrain. Noticing a wooded area off the side of the road, he made a hard turn off the road and drove headlong into the brush, barely missing a tree.
After a minute the motorcycles passed, not noticing the hole in the horticulture beside the road.
Biding his time for ten minutes, Brad backed up the car onto the road and turned off the engine. He walked to the the back left down and dragged Szora out of the car by her arm, and forcefully dragged her over to the trunk. Opening it, Brad grabbed a coil of rope he kept in the corner and shut the door. He pulled his prisoner over into the wood he came from and sat her down on a stump.
He took the rope and wrapped it around her feet several times, before looping it through vertically and cinching the tie.
Confident she wasn't going anywhere, Brad ripped the duct tape from her lips, and she spat out the cloth.
"You've got some explaining to do."
Hey Zanev, maybe we should move this thread to the fiction section?
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Thu Jun 25, 2009 8:22 am

"Here, drink this," Brad pulled out a bottle of water and helped the still-bound Szora drink. Brad pulled the cool liquid from her lips suddenly, and said softly, "so are you gonna tell me what's really happening between you and those men, or should I go find them and hand you over, so you can keep your secret?"
"It's complicated... you wouldn't understand...," Szora said tearfully. "Now wait a goddamn minute, your about as good to me now as you are with that gag on your mouth. I think I have a right to know exactly why I have a set of bullet holes in my cruiser, and why your "past" almost got us both killed!"
Szorza sighed, and began to relate her story, "Well, you see, I was born in Juarez, New Mexico. In a drug soaked border town, there isn't much room for the law abiding, and there isn't any place but below the ground for the weak. I had to grow up fast. When I was about 14, my parents lost their land, and I began running drugs for my uncle. I wasn't aware of it, in fact, I thought I was just delivering stuffed animals to orphanages and families. But one day my uncle got busted and extradited by the AFI from Mexico. I was only 17 at the time, and I knew no other path, needless to say I joined up with a cartel to support a simple living. Things went smoothly until the local boss got busted. I was his top assistant, and he relayed more information to me than his overly ambitious underlings. When he got taken down I was run out of town by a group of those jealous gang members. They were definitely the ones who set my boss up, however, it wasn't long before most of town blamed me for the lack of 'business' in town."
Officer Olens cut in,"makes sense, when the boss went down, i'm guessin' so did the wealth of the town, most of the town was probably receiving payment in some form from the cartel."
Szora responded and continued, "precisely, poverty began to take the town, and it didn't take long for the people to become desperate. A mob, led by those men, burned my parents house down, and beat my father to death. I never found out what they did to my mother, I like to hope she's alive out there somewhere. I fled south, far south. After doing odd jobs in a few towns I ended up involved in that bank robbery in Guatemala. I got away for awhile, but consequently it has all led me here. My past only haunts me, I cannot escape it all. I tell you, they will not let us reach the border."
Officer Olens seemed to experience some compassion for the young woman. "I've got a plan that just might work."
----On the highway an hour later.
The trio of cyclers came to a halt about 30 yds. from Brad's cruiser. Bard was holding a .357 gently against Szora's temple. She was bound tightly with rope, yet her legs were left untied so that she could walk. A 50ft. length of rope tied loosely around her neck was set about the desert highway in the direction of the gang. Szora stood somewhat firm for her situation, she lightly sighed through a thick blue cleave gag as the bikers approached the outstretched rope.
Brad Olens stood cooly with his gun in one hand and Szora in the other, "I've decided to accept your proposal, except that I want ten grand for this hellcat."
"All right greengo, it's a deal. JosÃ©, arrange a briefcase for our amigo," the largest of the three returned. The money was arranged, and as the man called JosÃ© approached to give Brad the case, the Officer gently prodded Szora to begin walking towards the men. The gang leader grappled the rope length, and began to pull her quickly. As Brad received and checked the case, Szora drew within 5 yds. of the gang leader.
"Ahh now, do you prefer pleasure before death, or just death, my little senorita?"
Szora tried to scream a bit,"mmmmrrammmph," and the leader began to chuckle. "So you want me to decide for you? Let's have some fun, or at least i'll have a good time." The cruel man ripped open Szora's shirt to find an unpleasant surprise. On top of the large breasts and bra belonging to Szora was what appeared to be a time bomb with a mere 15 seconds remaining on it.
"A bomb! what is this!" The whole gang was sent into a shock, the third member of the group standing off to the side ran for his cycle. The leader seemed rooted to the spot mesmerized by the surprise. The man standing in front of Brad had no time to react, JosÃ© fell to the ground with a .357 round in his forehead. Just as the gang leader began to imagine something was up, that Szora seemed a little calm to be bound and gagged with a ticking bomb attached to her, he met his end too, as Brad fired two more rounds. The third man was already on his cycle, and had taken off a good 100 yards down the road. Brad, focusing his eyes, aimed and fired a round. It seemed to strike the man on the shoulder, but did not knock him completely off the bike.
"Damn," Brad said under his breath as he approached Szora. He pulled the fake bomb off of Szora's chest and spoke with a steady, focused voice, "Well I reckon that's not the last we'll see of our friends." Szora had a gleam in her eye, she looked at Brad, and leaned her head against his arm. "Well at least i've got a quiet tied up cutie by my side. There's no need to cover up a crime with a witness, nope won't need your help digging now, looks like there's no need for me to untie you after all." Szora looked up at Brad with an frustrated flash of the eyes and grunted a low pitched, "mmmmrmmmm." Brad just hugged onto her gently with his arm and began to walk her back to the mustang as the sun setted in the backdrop.
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Wed Jul 01, 2009 8:30 am

Someone should come in and continue this!
Hey dreadnaught we should publish this lol. It's going pretty smoothly.
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston

### Re: Chain Story

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Thu Jul 02, 2009 10:19 pm

Yeah lol, that would be amazing. I guess I might as well put down another segment.
Five hours later the Mustang tore down the highway at a breakneck pace. This pretty little bank robber was a lot more trouble than she was worth, and Brad was quite ready to dump her at the border and get home.
He drove at over a hundred miles an hour down the deserted highway in the middle of the night. He had stopped once at a gas station to fill up and buy a slurpee to keep himself awake, promising Szora a few slurps of it if she behaved herself. Back on the road again, Brad decided to put on a Megadeth CD, its insane tempos fitting the drive he was taking. Szora wasn't too pleased.
By the time the dashboard clock struck two, she'd fallen asleep, but Brad was wide awake, checking his rear view for motorcycles every few minutes.
By two thirty, Brad had left the interstate and took off down a more secluded road to the border patrol station. He'd only been there a few times before, but he knew the area well enough to navigate through it at night. He relished the thought of arriving soon. Hopefully he could coffee up, dump the girl and head home on another highway.
Though as he drove, he noticed a weird light reflecting off the clouds in the sky. As he drove they got clearer and clearer, until he turned the last corner in front of the station.
The brick building was totally ablaze, the flames shooting light and heat in all directions and sending a cloud of smoke into the sky.
Brad parked his car and opened his door just as Szora awoke. She sat bolt upright, knowing she was probably supposed to be inside when it happened.
"Stay here." He said.
She groaned and rolled her eyes.
"I guess you have to."
Brad ran toward the building, getting as close as he could stand to check the windows for survivors. Within a minute, he heard a woman scream from inside. Noticing a back door that had been left hanging open, he charged inside to find the source of the voice.
He entered a back storage room, the shelves lined with random odds and ends. Pushing through that room he entered the guards lounge, most of the tables and chairs having been turned over, with trails of gasoline burning on them. As he staggered around, squinting in the heat and smoke, he saw a woman in the corner of the room, her left wrist handcuffed to a bar in the wall.
He instinctively ran towards her, fumbling with the keyring in his pocket. Once he'd found his handcuff key, he grabbed the metal restraint and turned the lock, the metal burning his skin as he did.
When she was free, Brad put his arm over he shoulder and guided her through the smoke, back out the back door.
She staggered towards his car coughing and wheezing.
Brad gave her a minute to cough and regain her composure.
"So who are you?" He asked.
She looked up at him and stared for a minute. All too suddenly, she charged forward and knocked him off his feet. She charged down the road running as fast she possibly could.
Brad launched himself of the ground and used him momentum to gain speed. Within a matter of seconds he had caught up to the brunette latino and tackled her to the ground. She kicked and struggled against him but was no match for the fit officer, who took her arm and dragged her back to his car. Opening the front passenger side door, he reached into the front glove box and grabbed the spare pair of riot cuffs he kept there.
It took some effort but he managed to pull her right arm behind her back and secure it into zip tie like cuff, making the left one easy.
She screamed incomprehensibly in rapid Spanish as he reached back into the glove box and retrieved the roll of duct tape he'd used on Szora earlier. By this point he'd lost all patience and simply pushed her onto the ground. He grabbed her kicking feet and held them together with one arm, while he used the other to wrap duct tape around them, tying them together.
With her finally subdued, he stood up and panted. She stared back intensely.
"What the hell!? I just saved your life!"
He didn't know if this woman spoke English or not and was debating what to do, when he remembered he had a mexican woman tied up in the back seat.
He ran over to his back passenger door and helped Szora out of the door. She stopped in her tracks and stared as soon as she saw the other woman, who reacted in much the same way.
"Wait, wait, so you know each other!?"
"Mmmph mmph" Szora replied.
Brad pulled the duct tape from her lips.
"You could say that."
He looked back and forth.
"Ok, who are you? And what the hell is going on here!?"
Hehe, the only thing better than one tied up Brunette is two tied up Brunettes.
Now somebody else keep it going! The post doesn't have to be long, but this is really a lot of fun if people join in. There's an entire world of places this story could go, and an entire world of people that can get tied up in the process! Come on!
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Chain Story

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Mon Jul 06, 2009 3:27 pm

Oh come on! Somebody keep this going.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Wed Jul 08, 2009 6:26 am

"So you two are twins, and partners in crime? And it was our friends who hit the station?"
Both women nodded in unison. Brad looked pensively at the twilight sky, morning was approaching and he needed a plan.
"Let's get going," Brad said with a sigh. The women had each been untied to clean up and eat some of the provisions (granola bars) in Brads trunk. They seemed to be getting awful comfortable for the situation; Brad would not allow their ignorance get them all killed. This WAS a time to worry.
"Alright, put this on your sister's arms," Brad told Szora, handing her 2 pairs of zip ties.
"But there's two of them!" Szora exclaimed, kinda reading who the other pair was intended for; "yours truly," she muttered.
With each woman's hands bound in front with cable ties, the group loaded into the mustang and departed. When they arrived at the U.s. - Mexican border, there was only a pile of dead, bullet hole worn patrol guards. Brad became aware of the immediate danger all too late. Two men were rapidly approaching the vehicle from behind. As Brad slammed in reverse to scatter the pair, he noticed slight movement in the distance ahead of him. His attention quickly snapped back to the approaching attackers as he did a reverse jackknife to knock one of the men off his feet. The other gang member tried to break into the passenger side of the car with a crowbar. Bad mistake, a shot rang out, and the man had an extra hole in his head. As Brad cocked his .357 to fire a second shot, he was startled as the other assailant began to pull him out of the car. The man reached for and began to grasp the gun out of Brad's hands. Szora and her sister could do little but scream in the backseat and kick the mesh bars between them and the fight in the front seat.
Brad hit the man hard several times on his upper right arm, forcing the man to momentarily lose control of his right hand, and more importantly, the weapon. They both rolled out of the car and into the side of a nearby toll booth. Brad slammed the man's head through the glass, blacking the attacker out.
Officer Olens checked back at his car, both women were still screaming, Brad neglected to take heed of their warning, and bent over to retrieve his Magnum off the ground. As he reached near the weapon, he felt a double barreled shotgun gently press against his temple, and a voice belonging to a tall young woman with what seemed to be a french accent said, "Got ya." The light complected bounty hunter had Brad stand up with his hands behind his head. The man Brad put through the glass window began to stir. A quick shot that Brad barely had eyes to see sent the man back into the toll booth, stone dead.
Brad rolled his eyes, "one step behind a woman," he thought, he never felt so embarrassed.
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Tapegaglover77 » Wed Jul 08, 2009 8:59 pm

It's like an action packed bondage story. This could make a good movie lol. And a 357. magnum is my favorite gun.

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Fri Jul 17, 2009 9:13 am

The bounty hunter forced Brad to unload the sister's onto the road. "Put them in a hogtie. For their sake, I hope you know what that is," the tall woman fondled her side arm and grinned menacingly at the bound pair. Brad did as instructed, and couldn't help but look into Szora's fearful eyes.
AS Brad finished up and turned around, the bounty killer held out two leather straps, each connected to a pink rubber ball. "Put these tight on em' I like to drive in a quiet atmosphere. Again, Brad did as he was told, and said to Szora in a whisper, "sorry, i'll figure us a way outta this," as he tightened her ballgag. An explosion was heard nearby, maybe a mile away, followed by many more. It seemed there was a storm coming, but not the kind to feed crops, rather the kind to fertilize the seeds of revolution. As Brad looked around to locate the possible source of cannon-fire, the woman commanded, "hurry up!"
Szora looked at Brad with pleading, tearful eyes and sounded a half-hearted sob;"mmmrph." "Don't worry. It's gonna be ok, understand?" The stressed and frustrated highway patrolman motioned for her to nod. Szora did, but with tears in her eyes. This wasn't any ordinary bounty hunter, and Szora understood that, she also saw the noose handing from a nearby tree before Brad did. Brad turned to see the bounty woman's rope work, and just squinted his eyes and stared into the tall woman's eyes.
Szora began to sob into her gag as the woman had Brad stand on a crate, and instructed him to tighten the noose around his own neck. "Good boy," said the bounty hunter as she ran a rope around his wrists. "I hope you realize what your in for if this rope doesn't take me, ma' am." The woman ran her hand across Brad's lightly bearded chin, "oh i'm not too worried about it, I have reason to believe your neck will break before the rope, like all the good little boys before you have. Brad stared into her eyes with a reserved, but definitely stern stare. As Brad balanced himself on the crate, the woman walked away, over to her two female captives.
"Mmmmmppphh!" the sisters grunted in chorus as the bounty hunter loaded them into the trunk of Brad's cruiser. After slamming the trunk hatch shut, the bounty hunter turned around, smiled slightly, and shot the crate out from under Brad. What happened next was very surprising and sudden. There was high pitched shrieking sound as Brad fell. But it's wasn't he that made. The area between the car and the tree where Brad was to die went dark and slow. Being outside the car, the tall bounty woman lost her balance, and her vision. An artillery shell must have been fired off course, and landed among the characters at the border station. When the dust cleared, the bounty hunter was still coughing, trying to regain her footing. As she searched out the tree, she found there to be an empty noose swaying in the winds. Brad had disappeared, without a trace.
It was at this point that the bounty killer began to doubt herself. For the first time in her career, Holly felt insecure.
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston

### Re: Chain Story

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jul 17, 2009 11:29 pm

Sorry Reb, I've been trying to add to this but I haven't had time. Hopefully in the next couple of days.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Chain Story

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Sat Jul 18, 2009 11:18 pm

Brad crawled in the dirt shamelessly as he hid from the Bounty Hunter's scanning eyes. He'd made sure not to tighten the noose far enough to be completely taught, and after the shell struck, he violently shook his head out of the noose and made a jump for it. He clambered into the dirt nearby and hung low to the ground as he ran without his arms. He didn't want to leave Szora and her sister, but he had no choice. After he ran a distance he dropped to the ground and started to crawl.
Stumbling across a rock protruding from the ground, he flipped over and sawed back and forth on the rope around his hands. Fortunately for him, the bounty hunter hadn't done a terribly good job of tying them, and he was able to slip out quickly.
From behind the rock, he watched as his mysterious assailant hunted for him and finally gave up. She turned away and quickly walked to the driver's side of Brad's cruiser and took off. Content that she was a safe distance away, Brad emerged and walked back towards the guard station. He needed to regroup and reorganize. Who was that woman anyway?
He walked back to the guard post and noticed an unused M16A4 assault rifle lying on the ground, near the body of a patrol man. Picking it up, he gathered as many clips as he could find and stuff then in his pockets, but his .357 was nowhere to be seen.
"Where could she have taken them?" He asked the open space.
Another rumble came from far away. Looking to the south, he saw orange flashes of artillery fire light up the clouds in the sky. Some kind of a battle was taking place, though he had no idea what. But... if there was a battle close to the Mexican border, the US military would definitely show up to secure the border.
"No I can't wait for that!" He yelled.
Suddenly he realized, earlier he first been ambushed on the highway and taken down that small dirt road. That must be it!
Szora had lost track of time, the trunk was completely dark and absorbed most sound. She could feel the vibrations of the engine as the car drove, but little else. Hardly anything except her sister's arm as they were pressed against each other. Early in the trip the two had tried desperately to try and free each other from their hog ties, but had no success. They had no room to squirm or struggle, and couldn't see a thing.
Quietly she leaned her head against her sister's shoulder.
She tried to pry her mouth open a bit further, at least to give the sides of her mouth some relief from the straps of the ball gag cutting into them.
"Where is she taking us?" She wondered.
Brad tore down the highway in a hot-wired border patrol armored jeep. He knew where he was headed, and what he had to do. This time though, he was going in with a plan.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Wed Jul 22, 2009 10:21 am

Brad noticed that the former driver of the vehicle had left behind their gps. The last occupant happened to be the bounty hunter herself, and the gps conveniently displayed a destination about 30 miles SW. Brad grinned at the mistakes of the class A assassin.
---
As Szora and her sister began to feel hot, and notice a lack of oxygen, the car came to a halt, and shortly after a bullet tore through the trunk lid only mere inches from Szora's arm. The bounty hunter kicked open the trunk, pulled out a fifth bottle containing some cheap "Town and Country" whiskey. Before spitting in Szora's face a shot of it, she muttered "damn it, have to take the long way back, forgot my gps," chugged a third of the liquor, and threw it back into the trunk.
--- A few hours later.
The bounty hunter's car pulled up to the destination. The bounty hunter got out, and went to the door. It was open, and all was still. She slowly crept around to the kitchen. An old woman lay there, rolled over on her side, bound with several zip-ties into a light hogtie of sorts. The bounty hunter asked quietly, "who did this?" The graying, yet slender and still fair of skin cook made a low-sobbing sound,"mmmerrrrmppph mmmih," there was a towel tightly wrapped around her mouth.
"Nevermind, they are going down, whoever they are," said the bounty hunter, without any real confidence as she moved on into the main room. Bodies lay everywhere. Several gunshot wounds littered each gangsters corpse. Suddenly, the young bounty killer heard a tremble of the floorboards, she fired instinctively at the sound's source twice. A man let out a groan, it was one of the surviving gang members. Was. "Shit!" Holly the bounty hunter yelled.
She heard some disturbances outside, Holly ran out to her car. When she arrived, she was compelled to stand perfectly still. Standing there was her two captives, now free, each brandishing an ak-47 and sombreros. Between them stood Brad, looking confident, with his .357 once again in hand. Holly pointed her pistol shakingly at the three. "No need for that senorita. You don't have enough bullets to killed all three of us. Looking for these?" Brad asked the bounty hunter Holly with a grin, tossing a pack of cartridges in his left hand. Holly began to fall apart at the seems, more afraid and unsure than she had been in years. "Way I see it, you've got a six round stock. One ended up in that fella at the border, another in your trunk, and two more yet in your buddy in there. You've got two left and there is three of us."
Holly shook with rage, she wasn't open to the idea of surrender. As she continued to persist, Brad waved the two sisters off, and began to walk around the bounty hunter in a sort of perimeter. He holstered his weapon, and Holly did the same for her colt. The two circled around to an open space in front of the structure, all in a very stand - offish manner, eyes locked onto each other.
Meanwhile the sisters filled the empty house with gasoline, and pulled out the only innocent, the bound and gagged cook. They set her in the back seat, and told her everything was going to be fine. The place went up in flames, the old woman screamed into her gag, and a shot was fired. All went still.
lol
End Chapter 1
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston

### Re: Chain Story

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Aug 07, 2009 5:17 pm

Chapter 2
Holly dropped to the ground, blood oozed from the bullet wound in her shoulder. Drawing her weapon on the meddling cop hadn't been a good idea, as one of the sisters had shot her from behind. The world began to fade in and out as her mind reeled from the stress of the shot. She felt faint, as if her life was draining out of her. The last thing she saw was Brad's face as she passed into darkness.
"Am I dead?" She wondered.
It didn't seem so, only that she was waking up from a very long sleep.
The first thing she felt was the ache of her shoulder. Slowly she pulled her eyes open, and found herself staring into a blaring fixture. She squinted hard, trying to give her eyes time to adjust to the light. After a minute, a lightbulb came into focus, mounted to the studs of an unfinished ceiling. Slowly she lowered her head.
She found herself in a workshop of some kind, the drywall was unpainted, the floor bare concrete, and was crowded with tools of all kinds.
"My shoulder." She thought to herself.
Looking down at it, she saw it had been dressed with gauze, though her shirt was soaked with dried blood. Relieved, she tried to stand. Nothing happened. She tried again, nothing happened.
Looking down, she saw her wrist, securely tied to the arm of a chair. In a moment of panic, she jerked her head around and observed the ropes that had been tied all over her.
Her ankles had been snugly tied together and cinched with a single rope, with another shorter rope wrapping vertically around the cinch and to one of the cross members of the chair, pulling her legs underneath it. Her legs had been tied together just below her knees, restricting her legs even further. Her wrists had each been secured to a chair arm with many layers of rope, as well as upper arms, cementing her entire arms to the chair. A long rope had been wrapped around her waist, which came around many times, winding up to her stomach. One more rope had been wrapped around her torso above her breasts, holding her upper body to the back of the chair.
After what seemed like hours of violent struggling against the ropes, using all the strength she could muster, Holly realized she wasn't going anywhere. To make matters worse, her mouth was being dried out by a piece of cloth, held in by several strips of gorilla tape.
The situation couldn't have been worse for her, she'd failed a mission for a particularly demanding client and was now inescapably bound by her targets with no way knowing what they were going to do to her.
Holly continued to struggle, even though she knew it was futile. Helplessness was something she could not accept.
Hours passed as she sat alone, fighting desperately to free herself. Finally, the door was pushed open, and Brad and the two sisters came through it.
"Hi." Brad said cooly, an open beer in his hand.
Holly could do nothing but fume.
"We need to have a little talk. So I'm going to take off the tape, but don't bother screaming, no one but us can hear you anyway."
Brad made good on his word, slowly pulling the sticky tape off of Holly's lips, allowing her to spit the cloth out onto the floor.
"Who are you working for?" Brad asked.
Holly said nothing.
"Who are you working for?"
Again, Holly refused to answer.
The sisters both rolled their eyes.
"This is going to be a long night."
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Chain Story

Post by Soul_Rebel » Mon Aug 10, 2009 9:01 am

----Hours later.
The blond bounty hunter named Holly lay in a dark basement, unable to move, or do anything for that matter, other than softly whimper into the linen and tape securing her mouth, and that sound was lost in the damp dungeon. She had been stripped of her coat, pants, and shoes; now cold in only her underwear and a thin undershirt;"Damn," Holly thought, all of her weapons and little gadgets that would've gotten her out of this were god knows where. "What use was it now to defy them?" Holly began to think, for she was a freelance, and owed her loyalty only to those that it benefited her to be loyal to. She had to be the Holly that would get her out of this hopeless situation. She had to share trust with this man, this gunfighter; Brad. The idea made her cringe a bit, however, it was what had to be done.
Brad, however, did not imagine she would break so easy, and so when the lamp began to illuminate the stairwell leading down to the bound woman's dungeon abode, she was not ungagged, or given the chance to tell Brad the name. She began to mumble persistently into the tape and linen. "Mmmmill mmmel mmmmmmummph! (Ill tell you!)," she repeated.
"Ah, the name? So now you want to tell me?" Brad looked her in the eyes, lit a match, and put the flame to the end of his hand rolled cigarette, one that did not smell at all like tobacco. "See, I've just gotten a call, and your information is needed no longer. We got the name. I came here to tell you, we'll be taking off here soon. By we'll, i'm not including you though." Holly began to dispatch some high-pitched, though muffled sounds. With that, Brad quickly slipped a trash bag around the woman's slender, bound and socked feet. Another, with a hole in bottom, followed, covering her torso. Brad brought up his roll of duct tape, and began tightening the bag, by wrapping the tape around the "Glad" bagging. Looking at last into the young woman's eyes through a concentrated, and unforgiving set of his own, Brad slipped a wool hat over Holly's golden hair and gagged face.
"It's 20 feet to the stairs. There is a phone and a nail file on the second step. The task might take you a couple days, but if you save your breath, I feel a girl like you could make it." Holly began to scream into her gag, but she moved little inside her bags. Brad patted her gently on her hooded head, and said, "Darlin' now don't waste your energy. Maybe i'll see you around."
Holly heard footsteps climb the stairs, and disappear into the distance. She began to struggle, but in vain, Brad was right, these bonds would take hours or more to break.
Whips and chains may break my bones, but ropes and gags excite me!
The image in my avatar is the work of Vonnart
"Duct tape makes you smart." - Michael Weston