The Most Dangerous Game Ch. 02

Sure, I'm being threatened with hell on earth if I don't get this mission done. But life is like a box of chocolates sometimes. So many different women to sample. So many different flavors of rape. Who has time to try them all?

Still. Work first, pleasure later. I set off down the street at a leisurely pace, my hands in my pockets, the picture of nonchalance. To an outside observer, I'm just stretching my legs after a long stint at the bar.

The truth is that there's only so many places in Green Meadows where you can be. It's small enough and there's very little cover outside the town.

I'm sure my prey is busy taking an indirect route towards the outskirts, likely away from the main road, to avoid being followed. As careless as they looked in the bar, they probably don't want to be seen leaving town directly. But there are only three points of egress they can take, unless they plan to scale the town walls. The open passages are north, south, and west.

And they won't pick north or south, because they want to avoid the road.

It'll take them time to double back, to take circuitous paths. By the time they reach the western gate...

I'll be waiting.

***

I'm crouched behind a dilapidated shed, my back pressed against the rough wood, every sense on high alert. The western gate is close by, a simple gap in the makeshift wall, guarded by a single bored-looking sentry. She's leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette, not paying much attention to her surroundings.

I've been waiting here for about fifteen minutes, watching the comings and goings of the townspeople. A few have passed through the gate, mostly men going about their daily business. No sign of my prey yet.

But I'm patient. I can wait.

The minutes tick by, each one feeling like an eternity. The sun is starting to dip below the horizon, but the day is still hot, and I can feel sweat trickling down my back. But I don't move. I barely breathe. I'm a statue, a shadow, blending into the background.

Finally, after what feels like hours but can't be more than twenty minutes, I spot them. The two women from the bar, approaching the gate from one of the side alleys. They're moving quickly, furtively, glancing over their shoulders as if expecting to see the entire New Order army on their heels.

They reach the gate and pause, huddling together for a quick, whispered conversation. I strain my ears, trying to catch their words over the ambient noise of the town.

"...split up. It's safer that way," the short one is saying. Her voice is low and urgent.

The blonde nods. "You're right. I'll take the longer route, go west, circle around to the old mill. You take the eastern route, along the river. Go straight to the usual spot and drop your copy of the message. I'll be the backup."

"Copy."

Alright, so they're headed for a dead drop place of some kind, maybe a shed in the wilderness where they can leave a warning. It's not as good as leading me directly to the cell, but it's a step in the right direction.

"I'll see you there," the blonde says.

The short one hesitates, then reaches out and grasps her companion's hand. "Be careful, Sophia."

Sophia. So that's the blonde's name. Good to know.

Sophia squeezes the other woman's hand in return. "You too, Ava. Stay safe."

Aww. How cute of them to make my job easier!

They break apart, each heading in a different direction. Sophia strides through the gate, nodding at the guard as she passes. The guard barely acknowledges her, too busy with her cigarette.

Ava takes a more circuitous route, skirting the edge of the wall until she's out of sight of the gate before making a sharp turn. Clever girl.

Ava's route will take her close to the river, where the vegetation is thicker. More familiar ground for me. It might also show me the location of the dead drop, not to mention I should have plenty of time to secure Ava and prepare an ambush before Sophia returns; the route she's taking seems long enough to doom her and her friend both.

Time to get the show on the road.

I wait until Ava has disappeared around the corner before I move, slipping out from behind the shed and following her path. I stay close to the wall, using its shadow for cover, my footsteps light and silent on the packed earth. I would have to keep a much bigger distance in broad daylight, but the day is fading. Great time for hunting women.

Ava is moving quickly, her short legs pumping as she half-walks, half-runs along the wall's periphery. She's clearly in a hurry to get out of town, to reach the perceived safety of the wilderness beyond.

But she's also being cautious, stopping frequently to look back over her shoulder, checking for any signs of pursuit. I have to admire her instincts, even as I exploit them.

Each time she pauses, I freeze, pressing myself against the wall, becoming one with the shadows. I hold my breath, counting the seconds until she starts moving again. It's a game of cat and mouse, of hunter and prey, and I revel in it.

We continue like this, Ava leading and me following, as we make our way around the southern edge of the town. The wall is in worse repair here, the metal sheets rusted and warped, the gaps between them wider. I catch glimpses of the life beyond - a woman hanging laundry in a small yard, a man tinkering with a decrepit motorcycle.

Fragments of a life I'll never have. Not that I want it. Even if I succeed get my big payoff, I don't see myself settling down for so mundane a life.

Ava pays no heed to these domestic scenes. Her focus is entirely on her escape, on putting as much distance as possible between herself and the town. She's clever, I'll give her that. Instead of making a beeline for the river, she's taking a roundabout route, doubling back and forth, trying to confuse any potential pursuers.

But I'm not so easily deterred.

As we round the southeastern corner of the wall, the terrain starts to change. The hard-packed earth gives way to softer soil, the scraggly weeds and stunted bushes becoming more lush and verdant. We're nearing the river, and with it, my best chance at making my move.

Ava seems to sense it too. Her pace quickens, her movements becoming more furtive, more desperate. She's no longer checking behind her as frequently, all her attention focused on the path ahead.

Perfect.

I wait until she's turned the corner, heading north along the eastern edge of the wall. Until the entire bulk of the town is between us and the western gate where Sophia made her exit. Until the vegetation around us is thick enough to muffle any sounds of a struggle. Until we're in sight of the shed that must be the dead drop she's aiming for.

Then, I make my move.

I carefully unsling my backpack, easing it off my shoulders and setting it down on the soft earth. The weight lifted from my frame is a relief, allowing me to move more freely, more silently. But more importantly, the pack contains the tools of my trade.

I crouch down beside the pack, unzipping it with slow, deliberate movements. I select a length of rope, running it through my hands, feeling the rough fibers against my skin. It's strong, durable, perfect for binding a woman's struggling limbs. I loop it over my shoulders like it's some kind of bandolier.

Next, I pull out the handcuffs, these a generous signing bonus from the Regime when I took the deal. Amazingly, I didn't even have to fuck anyone to get them. And my trusty hunting knife is sheathed against my boot.

I'm ready.

I rise from my crouch, leaving the backpack hidden in the undergrowth. Ahead of me, Ava is still moving towards the shed, barely looking at her surroundings now -- she must think herself safe. What is it that makes feminists have so poor a situational awareness? It's like the more devoted they are to the cause, the dumber they get.

I'm very happy not to share this delusion. Time to show her why.

I slip silently through the vegetation, my footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath my boots. The growing darkness is my ally, shrouding my movements as I close the distance to my unsuspecting prey. Ava is a mere silhouette now, her form outlined by the fading light as she hurries towards the shed.

Her single-minded focus is her downfall. She doesn't hear my approach, doesn't sense the danger until it's far too late.

I break into a run, closing the remaining distance between us in a few long steps. Ava hears me coming and spins around, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. She opens her mouth to scream, but I'm on her before she can make a sound.

I tackle her to the ground, my body slamming into hers with the force of a freight train. She grunts in surprise as the air is driven from her lungs. We hit the soft earth together, the soil cushioning our fall, but the impact is still jarring.

As we go down, I'm already moving, my training taking over.

I bring my knee up sharply, driving it into Ava's solar plexus as we crash to the ground. She lets out a choked gasp, her body folding in on itself from the force of the blow. In the same fluid motion, I grab her wrists, slamming them together in front of her chest. The handcuffs are in my hands before she can even register what's happening, the metal snapping closed around her wrists with a satisfying click.

She's acting on pure instinct, thrashing and bucking beneath me, her brain still processing what's going on. I intend to stay a step ahead. I press my knee deep into her sternum, making her gasp from air, and I rapidly unsling the rope from my shoulders.

"What the fuck!" She shouts. Nice way to waste precious breath. "Who the fuck are you??!"

I smile down at her, pouring every ounce of condescension that I can into my expression. It's the first sincere smile I've flashed today. "Oh, sweetie. I'm your worst fucking nightmare."

Her eyes widen further at that, and she renews her struggles, thrashing beneath me with a desperate strength. But it's futile. I unsheath my knife with one hand, while gripping the other around her slender throat. I put the knife squarely before her eyes, and start clamping down with my hand, tightening my grip until she starts convulsing beneath me.

As soon as her struggles weaken, I release my grip. She coughs and wheezes, desperately breathing in lungfuls of precious air, but hopefully she's gotten the message now. I sheathe my knife and stand up, kicking her in the ribs.

"Fancy making your acquaintance, bitch," I tell her conversationally as I start to uncoil the first length of rope, running it around her ankles. "I'm the woman who's going to utterly ruin your life. But don't worry, you'll be in good company! I'll do the same to all your friends. But before I do all that, as a personal bonus, just because I'm so nice... I'm going to rape you and Sophia, too."

Bent in two from the pain, panting from lack of breath, Ava tries pathetically to crawl away from me, though her cuffed hands get hopelessly in the way. She looks like some slug, a spineless creature that belongs on the ground. I let her crawl away a few inches, just for the hell of it, while I prepare the next length of rope.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Fucking traitor, collaborator scum. When the revolution comes, you'll be the first against the wall."

I pause in my uncoiling of the rope, cocking my head to the side as if considering her words. "Now, is that any way to talk to a sister?"

Ava's pathetic display continues as she squirms on the ground, moving forward inch by inch like she's a millipede. "You're no sister of mine!"

I sigh theatrically, shaking my head. "So judgemental. I'm just an empowered woman living life as best I can, Ava. Besides..."

I expertly twirl the second length of rope, forming it into an ipromptu lasso. "... I've always been more interested in women's wrongs than women's rights."

With a flick of my wrist, I send the lasso flying, the loop whipping through the air. It settles around Ava's head and neck with perfect precision, the rough rope biting into her skin. What a shot! I pump my free hand into a celebratory fist.

I am fucking awesome.

Ava lets out a choked gasp as I give the rope a sharp tug. "Ack! Fuck, stop!" she sputters, her bound hands scrabbling uselessly at the rope. But it's pointless. I have her now, caught like a fish on a line.

I plant my feet firmly, taking up the slack in the rope. "Come on now, puppy girl. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

I start reeling her in, hand over hand, the muscles in my arms flexing with the effort. Ava squirms and thrashes, trying to resist, but each struggle only tightens the rope's grip. She's dragged inexorably back towards me, the soft earth churning beneath her as she's pulled through the dirt and leaves. There's something so wonderfully symbolic at her being dragged like this through the dirt, like a struggling animal or a recalcitrant horse.

Being dragged towards her rape. Being dragged towards her brainwashing. Being dragged towards her fate.

Sometimes I think that it's such a shame that the regime sees me as a subhuman too, and that I'll have to cut free eventually. If they truly recognised my talents, we could do such great things together...

"That's a good girl," I say, in mock sweetness. "Come to mama."

Inch by excruciating inch, I haul her closer. Her face is turning an interesting shade of red as her breath is partially constricted. Not that I would mind if she passed out. Yes, I said I'd rape her, but that will likely have to wait. I need to pack Ava somewhere safe and set up an ambush for Sophia. Once they're both secure, the true fun can begin.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but can only be a minute or two, I have her at my feet. She's still trying to fight, though honestly the attempt only makes her look that more helpless. Gasping and wheezing, she's trying to shift to as close an approximation of an all-fours position she's capable of, with her ankles and wrists tied.

I nonchalantly press my boot into her back -- so dusty, I'll have to remember to make her lick it clean later -- and slam down with all my weight, while simultaneously pulling on the rope with all my strength. I like the image it creates, the way her body contorts under the bidirectional pressure. After all, bidirectional pressure is how you break things.

Like taking spaghetti at both hands and just... snap.

I survey my handiwork with grim satisfaction.

With her wrists and ankles bound and the impromptu lasso around her neck, Ava is utterly helpless, sprawled at my feet in the dirt. She's still squirming weakly, but her struggles are feeble now, the fight draining out of her with each labored breath.

I release the pressure on the rope, letting her gulp down some much-needed air.

I crouch down beside her, grabbing a fistful of her short hair and wrenching her head back. She tries to flinch away from my touch, and yelps in pain as I force her to meet my gaze.

"There now," I say, softly. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Certainly the least unpleasant of the experiences that are waiting for you until the re-education center has processed you, and you can take my word for that, sweetie."

"P-please..." Ava says in a whimper, her voice ragged. "Don't do this..."

"Oh, I'm going to do a lot more than just this, puppy girl. By the time I'm done with you and Sophia, you'll be begging me to take you to the re-education center."

Ava's eyes widen in horror at the mention of Sophia. "No! Leave her out of this! Don't you dare hurt her!"

Awww. Are they like, a couple or something? Comrades in arms that have been sharing a bunk? How fantastically adorable. I genuinely hope that's true, because it would give me so much more leverage to break these two.

"Ahh, tell me something I haven't heard before," I say, shoving her face back into the dirt. "Do you know how many of you feminists I've captured by this point? Y'all say the same thing, over and over. Oh, you're a traitor. Oh, you can't do this. Oh, please, I'll do anything! Seriously, it gets tiring. Can't you make a little effort and be original, for once?"

I take a rag from my coat, bunch it up into a ball, and press it against Ava's lips. "Here's the thing you need to know about those girls. They all said so many things... made threats, appeals, or begged. In the end, they all ended up in the same place, and so will you. So, might as well save your breath. Now open up, puppy girl."

Her eyes widen and she clamps her mouth shut, shaking her head vehemently. I sigh. They always want to do it the hard way.

I grab her jaw in one hand, squeezing hard until she gasps in pain. Using my thumb, I pry her mouth open and stuff the rag inside, effectively gagging her. She makes a muffled noise of protest, her bound hands scrabbling uselessly at her face. I give her cheek a condescending pat.

"There we go. Much better. Now, let's get you tucked away before your girlfriend comes looking for you, shall we?"

Ignoring Ava's renewed struggles and muffled protests, I grab the end of the rope still looped around her neck and start dragging her towards the nearby shed - the very place she was so desperate to reach just minutes ago.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for irony.

"Time for a walk, puppy girl," I say absentmindedly as I drag her towards the shed. The door is unlocked, but I have to fumble for my torch because the inside is pitch black. Hardly a surprise. Even outside, nightfall is imminent at this point.

I shine my torch into the interior. It's old and decrepit, the wood warped and rotting in places. But it will serve my purposes well enough. I haul Ava inside, not bothering to be gentle. She grunts in pain as her bound body bumps and scrapes against the rough floorboards.

There's not much inside - some rusted tools, a few empty crates, a coil of old barbed wire. I spot a sturdy support beam running across the ceiling that seems in excellent structural condition, and smile. Perfect.

Leaving Ava lying in a heap on the floor, I set about securing the other end of the rope to the beam, fashioning a crude but effective pulley system. Once I'm satisfied with my knots, I return to my captive.

Ava has managed to wiggle herself into a semi-upright position, propped up against one of the crates. Her eyes are wide and frightened above her gag as I approach. She makes a muffled noise of protest, shaking her head frantically.

I ignore her, grabbing the rope and hauling on it with all my strength. Ava lets out a choked scream as she's yanked upwards, her body leaving the ground. I pull until she's dangling from the beam, her toes barely brushing the floor. She swings gently, twisting in the air, her breath coming in panicked gasps around the gag.

I tie off the rope, ensuring it's secure, then step back to admire my prizze. Ava hangs helplessly from the beam, trussed up like a piece of meat at the market.

It's only fitting.

I circle her slowly, letting my fingers trail over her body as I pass. She flinches at my touch, trying to shrink away, but there's nowhere for her to go.

"Comfortable?" I ask, my voice dripping with false concern. "No? Good. That's rather the point."

I give her a sharp slap on the ass, eliciting a muffled yelp. "Now, be a good girl and wait here quietly. I've got a date with your girlfriend."

Ava's eyes widen in horror once more and she thrashes in her bonds, her screams muffled by the gag. I chuckle darkly, giving her cheek a patronizing pat.

"Don't worry, puppy girl. I'll be back for you soon enough. And then the real fun can begin."

I turn and stride out of the shed, Ava's desperate, gagged cries echoing behind me. The cool evening air feels good against my flushed skin as I emerge into the darkness.

One down. One to go.

I make my way swiftly back to my hidden backpack, retrieving it from the undergrowth. The night is upon me now, the last vestiges of daylight fading fast, so I need to work rapidly -- shining the torch around might give my position away if Sophia arrives here before I'm done.