Felicia peered through her binoculars, watching as a star flashed across the night sky.
"Come on," she murmured.
"Give it up, girl," Bobbi said. "UFOs don't exist."
"I'm telling you, I saw one," Felicia replied. "Right at this spot. Three nights ago."
"Sure thing, hon." Bobbi yawned and checked her watch. "Look, it's late. And we've got a calculus final on Monday. How 'bout we call it a night?"
"Five more minutes," Felicia said, her gaze still fixed at the sky.
Bobbi shrugged. "Whatever, Licia. Just don't be surprised if you need a pillow during class tom-"
"What's that?!" Felicia's voice cut her off.
The two young women looked up. A dot of blue light streaked across the sky. Felicia reached for her phone and snapped a picture.
The girls gazed at the image.
"Wow," Bobbi said. "You have an excellent knack for photographing fighter planes."
"Damn it," Felicia muttered. "I was sure I had it..."
"Next time, honey," Bobbi replied. "Can we go home now?"
Felicia sighed. "Fine."
She was quiet during the whole ride back to campus.
***************
"Give it up, Felicia," Mrs. Drake stated.
"Come on," Felicia begged. "I know I'm on to something. Just give me a little more time"
"Kid, I'm trying to run a paper. I don't have time for interns with silly UFO delusions."
"But..." Felicia started to protest.
"Give it up," Mrs. Drake repeated.
Felicia sunk her hands into her pockets and exited her editor's office.
The press room was alive with activity. Felicia sidestepped a few paper-filled desks and headed for the door.
"Rough day?" said a voice from behind her.
Felicia turned. The voice belonged a tall black woman in her early thirties. It was Bridget Baxter - one of the Globe's most talented reporters. Though Felicia had only worked at the Globe for a short time, she had already formed a connection with Bridget.
Smiling weakly, Felicia unburdened her story.
Bridget adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses. "You know, one of my sources mentioned something about a UFO being held down in the basement of the Air Force Museum." She smiled. "It all sounds like nonsense, but then again, it all sounds like nonsense to me. Anyway," she patted Felicia's shoulder, "I gotta run. Digging up dirt on a chemical plant. Good luck."
She walked off, leaving a very thoughtful young woman behind.
Felicia was up late that night, thinking up a plan. The basement of the Air Force Museum would doubtlessly feature heavy, government-issued security. She would need to sneak her way in. It would be dangerous, but with the right disguise, she could succeed...
******************
The next day, Felicia took the local train to Cape Canaveral, and landed herself a spot on the midday tour bus.
The tour guide, a sunny blonde in her late twenties, stood at the front of the bus, megaphone in hand. As the bus rumbled across the museum grounds, she began to speak.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! So glad you could join us on this fine day. We'll be giving you a tour of the Cape, the likes of which you've never seen!"
Felicia had secured a seat near the back, and she paid little attention as the woman began blathering about the history of the air force base. Her eyes scanned the perimeter of the grounds, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
By the end of the tour, Felicia had gained a good perspective of the layout of the base. Now it was time for Step Two.
Handbag slung over her shoulder, she headed for the exhibit hall. By this point, it was late afternoon, which suited her plan just fine.
Slipping into the Ladies' Room, Felicia found an empty stall beneath a small air vent. She procured a screwdriver from her handbag and removed the grate from the wall. Supporting herself on her hands atop the toilet seat, she wriggled her svelte body into the shaft, feet-first, before pulling her handbag in behind her. She replaced the grate and held it in place.
Half an hour later, the museum's loudspeaker announced that the museum would be closing shortly. Felicia bided her time. Soon, a guard stepped into the restroom and, after ensuring that all the stalls were empty, shut the lights and left.
Felicia waited another twenty minutes before removing the grate and letting her well-toned figure slide silently to the floor.
"Let's see what this place is hiding," she smiled.
A quick glance through the slightly-ajar restroom door confirmed to her that the main hall was empty. She removed her heels and quietly crept out.
Turning the corner, she noticed a door marked "Restricted." As she pondered whether to approach it, an elevator behind her dinged.
Felicia dove behind a small missile exhibit. Peeking out, she saw a bearded man in a lab coat walking toward the restricted area. He swiped a key card, and the door buzzed him in.
Felicia watched with interest. Just then, another elevator door slid open, and out stepped another scientist.
The young woman was tall, slim, and attractive, with caramel skin and long dark hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore an open white lab coat over a blue cardigan, black pencil skirt, and shiny black high-heeled pumps. She wore a key card around her neck.
Felicia's eyes lit up. The girl was just about her size. She reached into her handbag and withdrew a cloth and a small bottle.
As the young scientist headed for the locked door, a voice sounded softly behind her.
"This won't hurt. I promise."
The woman whirled, startled. She had no time to react before Felicia clamped the pad over her nose and mouth.
"Hlllllmmmmmppppffffffff!" the girl cried out, as Felicia trapped her arms to her sides.
"I'm sorry, honey," Felicia whispered. "I'll try to make this quick."
The girl immediately realized she was being chloroformed, and tried to hold her breath wiggle her face away. But Felicia held on tight.
"Don't struggle. It's almost over. Shhhhh..." Felicia whispered soothingly as she pressed the pad down harder.
Finally, the young scientist could take no more. Her lungs breathed deeply, and filled with chloroform-saturated air.
Felicia kept the pad clamped over the woman's mouth for another twenty seconds. Then, finally, she let go, allowing the unconscious lab tech to slide to the floor.
Felicia felt bad for the poor girl, but she had come too far to let her conscience sway her. She dragged the unconscious figure back into the Ladies' Room.
Felicia worked quickly and quietly, hoping that no other female technicians would need a bathroom break in the next ten minutes. She pulled off the woman's lab coat and hung it on a stall door. Then she removed the girl's pumps and pulled the skirt down her long legs. She rolled off the cardigan, revealing a white blouse beneath. Felicia removed that, too.
The young scientist had opted for a white comfort bra and black control top tights. After some debate, Felicia decided to let her keep her undergarments.
She quickly changed into the technician's blouse, skirt, and shoes. She then squeezed into the cardigan and pulled on the lab coat.
Felicia dragged the young lady into the far end stall and sat her on the seat. She reached into her handbag and removed a roll of thick black duct tape. Working quickly, she taped the girl's arms and legs to the back end of the stall before smoothing a strip over her mouth.
Felicia exited the stall, scrawling "Out of Order" on the door in magic marker. "Sleep well, sweetie," she whispered to the stall's slumbering occupant.
Felicia exited the restroom and headed for the elevator. As she swiped the keycard, she noticed the name: "Dr. Ellen Lawrence." Felicia couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt for the real Dr. Lawrence. But she ignored it - as Bridget had taught her, a good investigative reporter never let anything keep her from a good story.
The elevator doors pinged and slid open. Felicia hoped that she was indeed on the trail of a good story as she stepped inside.
To Steal a Spacesuit
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tirepanted2
- Posts: 40
- Joined: Wed Jan 04, 2017 4:19 am
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
The elevator doors pinged and slid open again. Cautiously, Felicia stepped into the underground complex.
"Complex" was right. The place was bustling with activity, as scientists and soldiers hurried this way and that. Some sat at tables, writing furiously. Others chatted near a large whiteboard covered in numerical equations.
Felicia spotted a clipboard on a nearby desk. She picked it up and gazed at it, trying to look busy. As she spoke, she sidled past a female scientist talking to two male colleagues. Felicia tried to hear what the tall Asian woman was saying.
"...very important that the mission is ready by Sunday! And no slip-ups, you hear me? My career is on the line here." She eyed one of the men. "Did you order the spare panels?"
"Yes, ma'am," he responded, somewhat nervously.
"Well, where the hell are they? NASA is waiting!"
"I... I don't know, ma'am. They should have been delivered to the docks half an hour ago."
"Bloody incompetents," the woman said angrily. "I'll call them myself." She spotted Felicia nearby. "The hell are you looking at?"
Felicia gulped. "Um... just... I mean, I'm..."
The woman stepped closer to Felicia, frowning. "I don't recognize you. How long have you been employed here?"
Felicia thought fast. "About... two months. I've been working the day shift, but they recently changed my stance."
The woman eyed her suspiciously. Then she nodded. "Well, get back to work! And don't ogle your superiors."
Felicia bit her tongue. She nodded and hurried off.
"Okay... if I were a UFO, where would I be?"
Stepping down a side corridor, she noticed a metal door marked "Classified - Military Admittance Only."
Felicia watched as the door opened, and a young woman in a Lieutenant uniform stepped out. She gave Felicia a polite nod before heading down the corridor.
Quietly, Felicia began to follow the girl, a sly smile playing on her lips. She sized the Lieutenant up: Dark green uniform jacket with gold buttons, below-the-knee skirt, neutral tights, and sensible heels. A black beret was fitted over her blonde hair, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. She was approximately Felicia's size.
To Felicia's satisfaction, the woman turned and stepped into a room marked "Ladies." She waited a moment, then followed.
The restroom was not large - only two stalls and a single wash basin. The door to one stall was closed - obviously, Felicia's target was inside.
Felicia peeked under the wash basin to find some implements the janitor had probably stowed for maintenance purposes. Some dirty washrags, a few rolls of duct tape, wire cutters, a coiled length of electrical cord. Felicia decided to put these objects to good use.
So it was that when the door to the occupied stall opened and the attractive lieutenant stepped out, she found herself face-to-face with a smiling young woman wearing a lab coat and a smile.
"Sorry about this," Felicia said, and swung out her leg, knocking the woman's feet out from under her. The lieutenant fell backwards, hitting the floor of the stall. She looked up to see Felicia rapidly descending upon her. A few punches and muffled screams later, and she was out cold.
Felicia stripped the woman to her lacy pink bra and panties, then propped her up in a seated position on the toilet seat. She bound the woman hand and foot with electrical cords, which had been cut up into workable lengths. Then she packed the woman's mouth with washrags and sealed her lips with duct tape.
Once she had worked the stall door shut and locked it from the outside, Felicia changed into the military uniform. The skirt fit reasonably well, but the jacket was a little tight, and the shoes pinched; nevertheless, the clothing did fill her with a sense of authority. She tucked her hair beneath the beret and reached for the sunglasses.
She was just in time - just as she slipped the sunglasses over her eyes, the restroom door opened, and in walked another female scientist. Felicia immediately recognized her as the Asian woman from earlier. Her ID badge was now visible - "Dr. Julia Chen."
Dr. Chen glared at her. "Hurry up, Lieutenant! There's no time to freshen up. All military personnel are expected to be in the conference room."
Felicia tried to disguise her voice, giving it a deeper pitch. "Yes, ma'am! I was just on my way."
Dr. Chen eyed her strangely. "You look familiar..."
Felicia swallowed. If this woman recognized her as the technician from earlier, the jig was up.
Dr. Chen brightened. "Ah, of course! Were you relocated from Squadron 6A?"
Felicia quickly nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I, er, transferred here a few days ago."
Dr. Chen smiled. "I knew I recognized that uniform. Give my regards to Commander Judson."
"Yes, ma'am, I will." Felicia stepped toward the door. She wanted to get out before the woman took a second guess.
Walking quickly but professionally down the hall, she made it to the door of the restricted area. Her disguise worked - the guard let her in without any questions.
The room was a small auditorium. Dozens of other uniformed officers - mostly women - filled the seats. Felicia found an empty chair near the back and sat down.
A woman took the stage. She was tall and thin, with short blonde hair and frameless glasses. "Welcome, everyone." She smiled warmly. "I'm Dr. Grace. As you know, the Cape has been working hard these last few months, on a project draped in secrecy. Now, at last, our secret can be revealed!"
There was polite applause. Felicia leaned forward, excitedly.
"At long last, we will be sending people into Earth orbit in our newly developed lunar plane. And more importantly... those people will be women!"
The applause increased.
Felicia, though, slumped back in her chair. She had been hoping for some aliens.
Dr. Grace pressed a small remote, and the screen behind her lit up. Large images of three women were now visible - all quite fit and attractive.
The first woman looked to be in her mid-thirties, with short long hair and green eyes.
"Dr. Alice Williams," the blonde stated. "Dual PhD in Astrophysics and Engineering. Interned at NASA in 2004; now one of our most respected scientists. She'll be leading the mission." The audience applauded again.
The second woman was a bit taller and about the same age, with dark skin and long dark hair. "Dr. Heather Fontaine," the speaker continued. "PhD in Astrobiology. Head of Research and Development since 2013. The mission's Co-Captain." More applause.
The third woman was younger - perhaps in her mid-20s. She had short, sandy hair and a cherubic face. "Dr. Lindsay Thorne," the speaker said. "PhD in Astronomy. Joined NASA last summer. She'll be our mission's Navigations expert."
As the audience applauded once more, Felicia looked up. She squinted. This third woman, judging by her picture... seemed to share a passing resemblance with her. More than passing, in fact.
"All three scientists are being prepped for the launch, which will commence Sunday night at the Kennedy Space Center. If you have any further questions, reach out to the offices on Merritt Island."
Felicia's mind was buzzing as the meeting ended. She was thinking up a plan... a speculative plan, but one that would literally rocket her to the top of the news industry.
As she exited the hall, she nearly bumped into Dr. Chen, who was standing just outside the doorway. "Oh! Sorry, ma'am." Felicia once again adopted her professional voice. "I didn't see you there."
"No problem, soldier," the taller woman replied passively. She kept her eyes trained on Dr. Grace, who was chatting with a number of scientists onstage.
Felicia left, but Dr. Chen remained, watching Dr. Grace. Her lips formed a thin line, and her brow furrowed.
Quietly, she turned her heel and began walking back down the corridor.
Once she reached the privacy of her office, Dr. Chen shut and locked the door. She pulled out her phone and began to dial.
It was time to put her plan into action.
"Complex" was right. The place was bustling with activity, as scientists and soldiers hurried this way and that. Some sat at tables, writing furiously. Others chatted near a large whiteboard covered in numerical equations.
Felicia spotted a clipboard on a nearby desk. She picked it up and gazed at it, trying to look busy. As she spoke, she sidled past a female scientist talking to two male colleagues. Felicia tried to hear what the tall Asian woman was saying.
"...very important that the mission is ready by Sunday! And no slip-ups, you hear me? My career is on the line here." She eyed one of the men. "Did you order the spare panels?"
"Yes, ma'am," he responded, somewhat nervously.
"Well, where the hell are they? NASA is waiting!"
"I... I don't know, ma'am. They should have been delivered to the docks half an hour ago."
"Bloody incompetents," the woman said angrily. "I'll call them myself." She spotted Felicia nearby. "The hell are you looking at?"
Felicia gulped. "Um... just... I mean, I'm..."
The woman stepped closer to Felicia, frowning. "I don't recognize you. How long have you been employed here?"
Felicia thought fast. "About... two months. I've been working the day shift, but they recently changed my stance."
The woman eyed her suspiciously. Then she nodded. "Well, get back to work! And don't ogle your superiors."
Felicia bit her tongue. She nodded and hurried off.
"Okay... if I were a UFO, where would I be?"
Stepping down a side corridor, she noticed a metal door marked "Classified - Military Admittance Only."
Felicia watched as the door opened, and a young woman in a Lieutenant uniform stepped out. She gave Felicia a polite nod before heading down the corridor.
Quietly, Felicia began to follow the girl, a sly smile playing on her lips. She sized the Lieutenant up: Dark green uniform jacket with gold buttons, below-the-knee skirt, neutral tights, and sensible heels. A black beret was fitted over her blonde hair, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. She was approximately Felicia's size.
To Felicia's satisfaction, the woman turned and stepped into a room marked "Ladies." She waited a moment, then followed.
The restroom was not large - only two stalls and a single wash basin. The door to one stall was closed - obviously, Felicia's target was inside.
Felicia peeked under the wash basin to find some implements the janitor had probably stowed for maintenance purposes. Some dirty washrags, a few rolls of duct tape, wire cutters, a coiled length of electrical cord. Felicia decided to put these objects to good use.
So it was that when the door to the occupied stall opened and the attractive lieutenant stepped out, she found herself face-to-face with a smiling young woman wearing a lab coat and a smile.
"Sorry about this," Felicia said, and swung out her leg, knocking the woman's feet out from under her. The lieutenant fell backwards, hitting the floor of the stall. She looked up to see Felicia rapidly descending upon her. A few punches and muffled screams later, and she was out cold.
Felicia stripped the woman to her lacy pink bra and panties, then propped her up in a seated position on the toilet seat. She bound the woman hand and foot with electrical cords, which had been cut up into workable lengths. Then she packed the woman's mouth with washrags and sealed her lips with duct tape.
Once she had worked the stall door shut and locked it from the outside, Felicia changed into the military uniform. The skirt fit reasonably well, but the jacket was a little tight, and the shoes pinched; nevertheless, the clothing did fill her with a sense of authority. She tucked her hair beneath the beret and reached for the sunglasses.
She was just in time - just as she slipped the sunglasses over her eyes, the restroom door opened, and in walked another female scientist. Felicia immediately recognized her as the Asian woman from earlier. Her ID badge was now visible - "Dr. Julia Chen."
Dr. Chen glared at her. "Hurry up, Lieutenant! There's no time to freshen up. All military personnel are expected to be in the conference room."
Felicia tried to disguise her voice, giving it a deeper pitch. "Yes, ma'am! I was just on my way."
Dr. Chen eyed her strangely. "You look familiar..."
Felicia swallowed. If this woman recognized her as the technician from earlier, the jig was up.
Dr. Chen brightened. "Ah, of course! Were you relocated from Squadron 6A?"
Felicia quickly nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I, er, transferred here a few days ago."
Dr. Chen smiled. "I knew I recognized that uniform. Give my regards to Commander Judson."
"Yes, ma'am, I will." Felicia stepped toward the door. She wanted to get out before the woman took a second guess.
Walking quickly but professionally down the hall, she made it to the door of the restricted area. Her disguise worked - the guard let her in without any questions.
The room was a small auditorium. Dozens of other uniformed officers - mostly women - filled the seats. Felicia found an empty chair near the back and sat down.
A woman took the stage. She was tall and thin, with short blonde hair and frameless glasses. "Welcome, everyone." She smiled warmly. "I'm Dr. Grace. As you know, the Cape has been working hard these last few months, on a project draped in secrecy. Now, at last, our secret can be revealed!"
There was polite applause. Felicia leaned forward, excitedly.
"At long last, we will be sending people into Earth orbit in our newly developed lunar plane. And more importantly... those people will be women!"
The applause increased.
Felicia, though, slumped back in her chair. She had been hoping for some aliens.
Dr. Grace pressed a small remote, and the screen behind her lit up. Large images of three women were now visible - all quite fit and attractive.
The first woman looked to be in her mid-thirties, with short long hair and green eyes.
"Dr. Alice Williams," the blonde stated. "Dual PhD in Astrophysics and Engineering. Interned at NASA in 2004; now one of our most respected scientists. She'll be leading the mission." The audience applauded again.
The second woman was a bit taller and about the same age, with dark skin and long dark hair. "Dr. Heather Fontaine," the speaker continued. "PhD in Astrobiology. Head of Research and Development since 2013. The mission's Co-Captain." More applause.
The third woman was younger - perhaps in her mid-20s. She had short, sandy hair and a cherubic face. "Dr. Lindsay Thorne," the speaker said. "PhD in Astronomy. Joined NASA last summer. She'll be our mission's Navigations expert."
As the audience applauded once more, Felicia looked up. She squinted. This third woman, judging by her picture... seemed to share a passing resemblance with her. More than passing, in fact.
"All three scientists are being prepped for the launch, which will commence Sunday night at the Kennedy Space Center. If you have any further questions, reach out to the offices on Merritt Island."
Felicia's mind was buzzing as the meeting ended. She was thinking up a plan... a speculative plan, but one that would literally rocket her to the top of the news industry.
As she exited the hall, she nearly bumped into Dr. Chen, who was standing just outside the doorway. "Oh! Sorry, ma'am." Felicia once again adopted her professional voice. "I didn't see you there."
"No problem, soldier," the taller woman replied passively. She kept her eyes trained on Dr. Grace, who was chatting with a number of scientists onstage.
Felicia left, but Dr. Chen remained, watching Dr. Grace. Her lips formed a thin line, and her brow furrowed.
Quietly, she turned her heel and began walking back down the corridor.
Once she reached the privacy of her office, Dr. Chen shut and locked the door. She pulled out her phone and began to dial.
It was time to put her plan into action.
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esercito sconfitto
- Posts: 7159
- Joined: Tue Jan 12, 2016 12:06 pm
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
Tirepanted, first of all, many heartfelt thanks for starting a brand new story here at our board
but there is a minor issue which should be solved
Tirepanted , I figure you too are aware of a current problem about science fiction...indeed it is the MOST recurring question:
the future as we imagine it , becomes rapidly old . A 'spacesuit' for astronauts can be referred to a miniskirt like the ones in the tv series titled " SHADO ", if the story has been set in 1969...THEN, the question is about the time of the action
( yes, I noticed some details with a phone taking photos and the year '2004' )
but there is a minor issue which should be solved
Tirepanted , I figure you too are aware of a current problem about science fiction...indeed it is the MOST recurring question:
the future as we imagine it , becomes rapidly old . A 'spacesuit' for astronauts can be referred to a miniskirt like the ones in the tv series titled " SHADO ", if the story has been set in 1969...THEN, the question is about the time of the action
( yes, I noticed some details with a phone taking photos and the year '2004' )
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tirepanted2
- Posts: 40
- Joined: Wed Jan 04, 2017 4:19 am
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
The story is set in modern times, i.e. 2017. It will feature an experimental "space plane" instead of a spaceship - something a bit more futuristic, but still being developed in modern times.
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tirepanted2
- Posts: 40
- Joined: Wed Jan 04, 2017 4:19 am
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
Bridget zipped up the blue-green jumpsuit over her athletic body and adjusted the fit over her breasts. She stepped into the black PVC boots and pulled them up to her knees. Then she fitted the dark green baseball cap over her black hair, which had been tie back into a tight bun.
"Excellent," she said aloud. "Thank you, dear."
The woman she was addressing could only respond with a low, angry moan. After all, she was a captive audience - her back pressed against a thick tree trunk, arms around the tree and wrists bound together, legs bent back and around and knotted at the ankles, a rag stuffed in her mouth held firmly in place by a strip of duct tape. Her face was red, partly from anger, but also from embarrassment. After all, it was only twenty minutes ago that Bridget had ambushed her.
Now the girl was the picture of helplessness. She grunted angrily as her eyes shot daggers at Bridget.
Bridget smiled as she donned the woman's sunglasses, which had fallen to the ground in their earlier struggle. "Don't despair, honey. I'm sure someone will find you within a day or two. But in the meantime, why not take sometime to enjoy the beauty around here?" She gestured at the surrounding trees and plants. "Your employers are making a fortune from killing Mother Nature. Perhaps you can take some time to appreciate her."
The girl moaned something into her gag, but she was clearly exhausted. Bridget glanced at her ID card. The name read "Janelle."
"Au revoir, Nellie." Bridget lifted the backpack and turned her heel. She climbed into the woman's pickup truck.
Five minutes later, Bridget pulled up to the chemical plant. A doctored ID photo got her past the guard. Spotting a number of similarly uniformed workers carrying boxes through a side door, she scooped up a spare crate and slipped in line behind them.
Bridget moved through the halls of the plant as inconspicuously as possible. She stepped in an empty elevator and pressed the button for the basement.
As the elevator doors began to hiss closed, Bridget heard a voice. "Wait!" The sound of running feet - someone stuck their hand in the entryway, forcing the doors to ding open again.
"Going down?" The woman was similarly uniformed as Bridget - tall, thin, blonde. She smiled and stepped inside. "Great!"
Bridget smiled politely at the woman as the doors shut.
The blonde stuck out her hand. "Hi. Marcie. Don't recall seeing you around here before."
Bridget kept her cool. She shook the woman's hand. "Nellie. I transferred from upstate."
Marcie grinned. "Cool. I have a friend at this plant named Nellie. Great gal... Funny, I thought she was supposed to be on the job tonight. Not sure what happened to her."
Bridget shrugged. She didn't need to guess which Nellie this woman was referring to.
The elevator pinged, and the doors opened to reveal the basement. Marcie followed Bridget out into the empty corridor.
"You mind if I tag along? I'm on break right now I usually head down here for a cigarette. But it'd be good to have someone to talk to."
Bridget groaned inwardly. How could she get any investigative reporting done if someone was watching her?
"Let me just call Nellie - the other Nellie! - and ask if everything's okay." Marcie whipped out her phone and hit the speed-dial.
Moments later, a musical noise came from inside Bridget's backpack. It was "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls.
Marcie looked confused. "Hey... that's Nellie's ringtone. Why do you have her phone?"
Suddenly, her eyes widened. "You... you're..."
Bridget dove at the woman, tackling her. Marcie opened her mouth to scream, but Bridget quickly shut it with a right hook. Marcie's head hit the elevator door with a thud. She slid to the floor, out cold.
Bridget got up, panting. She dragged Marcie by her underarms into a nearby storeroom. She stripped her to her underwear, folding the clothes into a neat bundle. She located some strong copper wiring on one of the upper shelves and used it to bind her victim helplessly. Two strips of duct tape made for a fine gag.
With a "Sorry, girlfriend," Bridget covered Marcie with a tarp. Then, tucking the bundle of clothing under her arm, she turned heel and left the storeroom, shutting the door behind her.
Bridget located the locker room and, after consulting a clipboard, found Marcie's locker. She picked the lock, opened the door, and hung the uniform inside. Any supervisor who wanted to check the locker would find Marcie's uniform and deduce that she had finished her shift.
Having made quick work of poor Marcie, Bridget returned to her sleuthing. She wandered nonchalantly around the boiler rooms, nodding at the occasional coworker, and snapping photos with her concealed camera.
After about twenty minutes of spying, Bridget had ascertained all the information she needed. The pictures were incriminating enough to make a good Page 8. Still, Bridget was never truly satisfied unless she could make the headlines. But to do that, she mused, would require the impossible: A candid interview with one of the plant's chief executives.
As she exited the elevator onto the main floor, Bridget was preoccupied with the pictures on her phone. Thus, she did not notice the other woman in time to avoid bumping into her.
"Oh! Excuse me!"
Bridget looked up. The woman who had spoken was dressed in a black uniform jacket and skirt, as well as black boots, tights, and patent leather gloves. Her jet-black hair was tied back and adorned with a peaked black cap. She was slightly taller than Bridget, and her skin tone slightly lighter.
"Sorry about that," the woman continued in a Dominican accent. She extended her hand. Bridget took it, noting that the gloves were the type issued to professional drivers.
"No problem," Bridget responded with a smile. "You're probably better behind the wheel."
The woman laughed. "You got me. I'm the personal chauffeur of Lucille Weldon-Grant."
Bridget's eyes lit up. Weldon-Grant was a member o the plant's Board of Directors!
"She's here for a meeting, which should be wrapping up in about..." She consulted her watch. "...twenty minutes! Figure that gives me enough time to stretch my legs." She looked around. "Afraid I may have taken a wrong turn, though. Do you know the way to the exit?"
"Of course!" Bridget smiled winningly. She walked forward and beckoned the chauffeur to follow her. The woman obeyed.
Bridget smiled slyly as she lured the woman down a side corridor and towards a small, empty break room. She opened the door and allowed the driver to enter.
"This doesn't seem like an exit," the driver said, confused, as she stepped inside.
"I prefer to call it an opportunity," Bridget replied with a smile as she shut the door.
The break room was rather far from the control units of the plant, the better to discourage lazy employees. Bridget was quite thankful for the solitude, though, as it allowed her to punch the chauffeur's lights out without fear of any uninvited company. She was also not bothered while she stripped off the woman's uniform, nor while she tied and gagged her with duct tape from the break room closet.
Shortly thereafter, Lucille Weldon-Grant exited the building, chatting with an associate on her phone. Her sleek black sedan pulled up by the curb, and her driver got out to open the back door.
"Thank you, Isabella," Lucille said absent-mindedly to the uniformed chauffeur as she eased inside.
From beneath the brimmed cap, Bridget smiled. Her disguise was working perfectly.
"How was your meeting, madam?" Bridget asked in a false Dominican accent as she got behind the wheel.
"Not great," Lucille sighed as Bridget pulled away from the curb. "The local government's on our ##### again. Too many pollutants, they say..."
Bridget had the foresight to set her phone to "Record." She grinned as Lucille continued talking - this would make the front page yet.
"Excellent," she said aloud. "Thank you, dear."
The woman she was addressing could only respond with a low, angry moan. After all, she was a captive audience - her back pressed against a thick tree trunk, arms around the tree and wrists bound together, legs bent back and around and knotted at the ankles, a rag stuffed in her mouth held firmly in place by a strip of duct tape. Her face was red, partly from anger, but also from embarrassment. After all, it was only twenty minutes ago that Bridget had ambushed her.
Now the girl was the picture of helplessness. She grunted angrily as her eyes shot daggers at Bridget.
Bridget smiled as she donned the woman's sunglasses, which had fallen to the ground in their earlier struggle. "Don't despair, honey. I'm sure someone will find you within a day or two. But in the meantime, why not take sometime to enjoy the beauty around here?" She gestured at the surrounding trees and plants. "Your employers are making a fortune from killing Mother Nature. Perhaps you can take some time to appreciate her."
The girl moaned something into her gag, but she was clearly exhausted. Bridget glanced at her ID card. The name read "Janelle."
"Au revoir, Nellie." Bridget lifted the backpack and turned her heel. She climbed into the woman's pickup truck.
Five minutes later, Bridget pulled up to the chemical plant. A doctored ID photo got her past the guard. Spotting a number of similarly uniformed workers carrying boxes through a side door, she scooped up a spare crate and slipped in line behind them.
Bridget moved through the halls of the plant as inconspicuously as possible. She stepped in an empty elevator and pressed the button for the basement.
As the elevator doors began to hiss closed, Bridget heard a voice. "Wait!" The sound of running feet - someone stuck their hand in the entryway, forcing the doors to ding open again.
"Going down?" The woman was similarly uniformed as Bridget - tall, thin, blonde. She smiled and stepped inside. "Great!"
Bridget smiled politely at the woman as the doors shut.
The blonde stuck out her hand. "Hi. Marcie. Don't recall seeing you around here before."
Bridget kept her cool. She shook the woman's hand. "Nellie. I transferred from upstate."
Marcie grinned. "Cool. I have a friend at this plant named Nellie. Great gal... Funny, I thought she was supposed to be on the job tonight. Not sure what happened to her."
Bridget shrugged. She didn't need to guess which Nellie this woman was referring to.
The elevator pinged, and the doors opened to reveal the basement. Marcie followed Bridget out into the empty corridor.
"You mind if I tag along? I'm on break right now I usually head down here for a cigarette. But it'd be good to have someone to talk to."
Bridget groaned inwardly. How could she get any investigative reporting done if someone was watching her?
"Let me just call Nellie - the other Nellie! - and ask if everything's okay." Marcie whipped out her phone and hit the speed-dial.
Moments later, a musical noise came from inside Bridget's backpack. It was "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls.
Marcie looked confused. "Hey... that's Nellie's ringtone. Why do you have her phone?"
Suddenly, her eyes widened. "You... you're..."
Bridget dove at the woman, tackling her. Marcie opened her mouth to scream, but Bridget quickly shut it with a right hook. Marcie's head hit the elevator door with a thud. She slid to the floor, out cold.
Bridget got up, panting. She dragged Marcie by her underarms into a nearby storeroom. She stripped her to her underwear, folding the clothes into a neat bundle. She located some strong copper wiring on one of the upper shelves and used it to bind her victim helplessly. Two strips of duct tape made for a fine gag.
With a "Sorry, girlfriend," Bridget covered Marcie with a tarp. Then, tucking the bundle of clothing under her arm, she turned heel and left the storeroom, shutting the door behind her.
Bridget located the locker room and, after consulting a clipboard, found Marcie's locker. She picked the lock, opened the door, and hung the uniform inside. Any supervisor who wanted to check the locker would find Marcie's uniform and deduce that she had finished her shift.
Having made quick work of poor Marcie, Bridget returned to her sleuthing. She wandered nonchalantly around the boiler rooms, nodding at the occasional coworker, and snapping photos with her concealed camera.
After about twenty minutes of spying, Bridget had ascertained all the information she needed. The pictures were incriminating enough to make a good Page 8. Still, Bridget was never truly satisfied unless she could make the headlines. But to do that, she mused, would require the impossible: A candid interview with one of the plant's chief executives.
As she exited the elevator onto the main floor, Bridget was preoccupied with the pictures on her phone. Thus, she did not notice the other woman in time to avoid bumping into her.
"Oh! Excuse me!"
Bridget looked up. The woman who had spoken was dressed in a black uniform jacket and skirt, as well as black boots, tights, and patent leather gloves. Her jet-black hair was tied back and adorned with a peaked black cap. She was slightly taller than Bridget, and her skin tone slightly lighter.
"Sorry about that," the woman continued in a Dominican accent. She extended her hand. Bridget took it, noting that the gloves were the type issued to professional drivers.
"No problem," Bridget responded with a smile. "You're probably better behind the wheel."
The woman laughed. "You got me. I'm the personal chauffeur of Lucille Weldon-Grant."
Bridget's eyes lit up. Weldon-Grant was a member o the plant's Board of Directors!
"She's here for a meeting, which should be wrapping up in about..." She consulted her watch. "...twenty minutes! Figure that gives me enough time to stretch my legs." She looked around. "Afraid I may have taken a wrong turn, though. Do you know the way to the exit?"
"Of course!" Bridget smiled winningly. She walked forward and beckoned the chauffeur to follow her. The woman obeyed.
Bridget smiled slyly as she lured the woman down a side corridor and towards a small, empty break room. She opened the door and allowed the driver to enter.
"This doesn't seem like an exit," the driver said, confused, as she stepped inside.
"I prefer to call it an opportunity," Bridget replied with a smile as she shut the door.
The break room was rather far from the control units of the plant, the better to discourage lazy employees. Bridget was quite thankful for the solitude, though, as it allowed her to punch the chauffeur's lights out without fear of any uninvited company. She was also not bothered while she stripped off the woman's uniform, nor while she tied and gagged her with duct tape from the break room closet.
Shortly thereafter, Lucille Weldon-Grant exited the building, chatting with an associate on her phone. Her sleek black sedan pulled up by the curb, and her driver got out to open the back door.
"Thank you, Isabella," Lucille said absent-mindedly to the uniformed chauffeur as she eased inside.
From beneath the brimmed cap, Bridget smiled. Her disguise was working perfectly.
"How was your meeting, madam?" Bridget asked in a false Dominican accent as she got behind the wheel.
"Not great," Lucille sighed as Bridget pulled away from the curb. "The local government's on our ##### again. Too many pollutants, they say..."
Bridget had the foresight to set her phone to "Record." She grinned as Lucille continued talking - this would make the front page yet.
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tirepanted2
- Posts: 40
- Joined: Wed Jan 04, 2017 4:19 am
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
Felicia felt a nudge in her ribs. "Earth to Licia. Wake up."
She blinked. The nudge came from Bobbi, who held open a textbook.
"Come on, girl. The calculus midterm is only two days away. Are we here to study, or to snooze?"
Felicia shook her head, letting her short red hair flicker back and forth. "Sorry, Bob. I was up late last night."
Bobbi sighed. "Figures. Out partying?"
"No!" Felicia said indignantly. "I was... getting a story. You know, being a good journalist."
"A good journalist gets plenty of sleep," Bobbi responded. "Now, onto Chapter 5..."
Felicia yawned again.
Bobbi groaned. "Okay, Licia. What were you doing last night? Fess up."
"I told you. Getting a story."
"At 3 AM? What kind of news is breaking then?"
Felicia sighed. Then she lowered her voice. "You can't tell anyone, all right? I may have broken a few laws."
Bobbi's eyes widened. "What...?"
"I was at Cape Canaveral last night. The space station. I... happened to sit in on some top-secret meeting."
"Seriously? They just let you in?"
"No... I had to, er, steal some clothes. But it was all for a good cause. I learned about a space mission happening this weekend. All-female crew."
Bobbi's eyes widened. "Okay. And you're going to print a story about it?"
"No," Felicia smiled. "I'm going to be PART of the story."
Bobbi raised an eyebrow in confusion. Felicia continued: "I'm going to be on that space shuttle. And you're gonna help me."
Bobbi sighed. "Don't drag me into your latest crazy plan. Midterms, remember?"
"Come on," Felicia urged. "I need your help. Friends forever, right?"
Bobbi tapped her pencil on the desk. "There's no way you can get near that space shuttle without getting arrested. Or shot."
"Don't worry," Felicia smiled. "I think I know someone who can help us..."
********************
Bridget sat at her office desk, typing away. Though she was well ahead of deadline, the ace reporter was never one to procrastinate. Even as she wrote up her expose on Darwin Chemicals, her mind was already racing with ideas for her next story.
"Ms. Baxter?"
Bridget turned to see Felicia standing behind her. She smiled warmly at the young protege.
"Honey, please. Only my mother calls me that."
"Sorry... Bridget," Felicia continued. "Listen, I looked into that UFO story of yours, and... nada."
Bridget patted Felicia on the shoulder. "Sorry, my girl. If it makes you feel better, nine out of my every ten leads turn up false as well."
Felicia held up a hand. "But I did stumble upon a better story. One which I'd like to share... with you."
She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "How would you like... to go to outer space?"
Bridget's eyes twinkled in anticipation. She listened attentively as Felicia described her discoveries from the previous night, and explained her plan.
"Still, this is a high-risk operation," Felicia said. "That's why I need an expert along - someone who knows a thing or two about disguise and infiltration."
Bridget nodded. "Maybe it's the chemicals from Darwin talking... but I'm in." She pulled out a pen and paper. "Now, here's how we get inside..."
******************
Liza scrolled through her phone as she strode toward the warehouse. She wondered why Betty wasn't answering her texts.
As a member of the NASA ground crew operating at KSC, Liza liked to keep in contact with her coworkers. She regarded the four other women in her unit as friends. They shared the same vehicle - a white van with the space organization's logo painted on both sides - and they shared stories as well. Bonding with her girlfriends made the workload feel lighter than it really was.
Dressed in a blue jumpsuit and black boots, Liza whistled to herself as she approached the warehouse where the van was parked. She used her keys to unlock the door, and stepped inside.
The inside of the warehouse was dark - pitch dark. Liza reached for a light switch.
Suddenly, she felt something move behind her. The next moment, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and a gun was pressed to the base of her head.
"Don't make a sound," an accented female voice commanded. "You speak, you die. Understand?"
Frightened, Liza nodded.
"Good girl. Now, strip to your underwear. Make it fast." The assailant removed her hand from Liza's mouth, but kept the gun in place.
Liza had no choice. She quickly unzipped her jumpsuit, letting it slide down to her ankles. She wriggled her feet out of her boots, then stepped out of the uniform. She stood there, shivering, in just her bra and panties.
"Excellent. Now, hands behind your back."
Submissively, Liza allowed herself to be bound, wrist and ankle, with nylon ropes. She was also gagged with duct tape. Once she had been thoroughly restrained, her captor pushed her into the warehouse's large walk-in supply closet and flicked on the lights.
Liza's eyes widened in shock. Sitting on the floor of the closet, their backs against the wall, were her four coworkers. They were all bound and gagged and stripped to their underwear. Nearby, four other muscular, olive-skinned women were busy pulling on blue jumpsuits and lacing up black boots.
Liza was seated and secured next to her friends, while her captor dressed in her uniform. Liza and her friends could only watch helplessly as the five uniform thieves, talking and laughing with one another, piled into the NASA van.
Minutes later, the van, with its new "substitute" crew, was en route for the Kennedy Space Center, leaving the real crew moaning and squirming in the darkness.
She blinked. The nudge came from Bobbi, who held open a textbook.
"Come on, girl. The calculus midterm is only two days away. Are we here to study, or to snooze?"
Felicia shook her head, letting her short red hair flicker back and forth. "Sorry, Bob. I was up late last night."
Bobbi sighed. "Figures. Out partying?"
"No!" Felicia said indignantly. "I was... getting a story. You know, being a good journalist."
"A good journalist gets plenty of sleep," Bobbi responded. "Now, onto Chapter 5..."
Felicia yawned again.
Bobbi groaned. "Okay, Licia. What were you doing last night? Fess up."
"I told you. Getting a story."
"At 3 AM? What kind of news is breaking then?"
Felicia sighed. Then she lowered her voice. "You can't tell anyone, all right? I may have broken a few laws."
Bobbi's eyes widened. "What...?"
"I was at Cape Canaveral last night. The space station. I... happened to sit in on some top-secret meeting."
"Seriously? They just let you in?"
"No... I had to, er, steal some clothes. But it was all for a good cause. I learned about a space mission happening this weekend. All-female crew."
Bobbi's eyes widened. "Okay. And you're going to print a story about it?"
"No," Felicia smiled. "I'm going to be PART of the story."
Bobbi raised an eyebrow in confusion. Felicia continued: "I'm going to be on that space shuttle. And you're gonna help me."
Bobbi sighed. "Don't drag me into your latest crazy plan. Midterms, remember?"
"Come on," Felicia urged. "I need your help. Friends forever, right?"
Bobbi tapped her pencil on the desk. "There's no way you can get near that space shuttle without getting arrested. Or shot."
"Don't worry," Felicia smiled. "I think I know someone who can help us..."
********************
Bridget sat at her office desk, typing away. Though she was well ahead of deadline, the ace reporter was never one to procrastinate. Even as she wrote up her expose on Darwin Chemicals, her mind was already racing with ideas for her next story.
"Ms. Baxter?"
Bridget turned to see Felicia standing behind her. She smiled warmly at the young protege.
"Honey, please. Only my mother calls me that."
"Sorry... Bridget," Felicia continued. "Listen, I looked into that UFO story of yours, and... nada."
Bridget patted Felicia on the shoulder. "Sorry, my girl. If it makes you feel better, nine out of my every ten leads turn up false as well."
Felicia held up a hand. "But I did stumble upon a better story. One which I'd like to share... with you."
She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "How would you like... to go to outer space?"
Bridget's eyes twinkled in anticipation. She listened attentively as Felicia described her discoveries from the previous night, and explained her plan.
"Still, this is a high-risk operation," Felicia said. "That's why I need an expert along - someone who knows a thing or two about disguise and infiltration."
Bridget nodded. "Maybe it's the chemicals from Darwin talking... but I'm in." She pulled out a pen and paper. "Now, here's how we get inside..."
******************
Liza scrolled through her phone as she strode toward the warehouse. She wondered why Betty wasn't answering her texts.
As a member of the NASA ground crew operating at KSC, Liza liked to keep in contact with her coworkers. She regarded the four other women in her unit as friends. They shared the same vehicle - a white van with the space organization's logo painted on both sides - and they shared stories as well. Bonding with her girlfriends made the workload feel lighter than it really was.
Dressed in a blue jumpsuit and black boots, Liza whistled to herself as she approached the warehouse where the van was parked. She used her keys to unlock the door, and stepped inside.
The inside of the warehouse was dark - pitch dark. Liza reached for a light switch.
Suddenly, she felt something move behind her. The next moment, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and a gun was pressed to the base of her head.
"Don't make a sound," an accented female voice commanded. "You speak, you die. Understand?"
Frightened, Liza nodded.
"Good girl. Now, strip to your underwear. Make it fast." The assailant removed her hand from Liza's mouth, but kept the gun in place.
Liza had no choice. She quickly unzipped her jumpsuit, letting it slide down to her ankles. She wriggled her feet out of her boots, then stepped out of the uniform. She stood there, shivering, in just her bra and panties.
"Excellent. Now, hands behind your back."
Submissively, Liza allowed herself to be bound, wrist and ankle, with nylon ropes. She was also gagged with duct tape. Once she had been thoroughly restrained, her captor pushed her into the warehouse's large walk-in supply closet and flicked on the lights.
Liza's eyes widened in shock. Sitting on the floor of the closet, their backs against the wall, were her four coworkers. They were all bound and gagged and stripped to their underwear. Nearby, four other muscular, olive-skinned women were busy pulling on blue jumpsuits and lacing up black boots.
Liza was seated and secured next to her friends, while her captor dressed in her uniform. Liza and her friends could only watch helplessly as the five uniform thieves, talking and laughing with one another, piled into the NASA van.
Minutes later, the van, with its new "substitute" crew, was en route for the Kennedy Space Center, leaving the real crew moaning and squirming in the darkness.
-
esercito sconfitto
- Posts: 7159
- Joined: Tue Jan 12, 2016 12:06 pm
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
mr. tirepanted , would you like to bring a complete ( so far ) 'casting call' to our attention? ( especially for some victims, like this 'Liza')
-
tirepanted2
- Posts: 40
- Joined: Wed Jan 04, 2017 4:19 am
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
I'd rather not do a casting call, but here are brief descriptions for the main characters:
Felicia
Age: 22
Height: 5'8"
Skin: Light
Hair: Red
Eyes: Brown
Bobbi
Age: 22
Height: 5'7"
Skin: Light
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Bridget
Age: 31
Height: 5'10"
Skin: Dark
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
And, for Liza (though she's not a main character):
Age: 27
Height: 5'8"
Skin: Light
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Felicia
Age: 22
Height: 5'8"
Skin: Light
Hair: Red
Eyes: Brown
Bobbi
Age: 22
Height: 5'7"
Skin: Light
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Bridget
Age: 31
Height: 5'10"
Skin: Dark
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
And, for Liza (though she's not a main character):
Age: 27
Height: 5'8"
Skin: Light
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
-
tirepanted2
- Posts: 40
- Joined: Wed Jan 04, 2017 4:19 am
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
"This is crazy," Bobbi muttered.
She sat in the back seat of Bridget's 2014 Hyundai Sonata, arms folded. Bridget sat in the front seat, while Felicia took the shotgun position. The car was parked by a quiet, tree-lined roadside. All three women were dressed in black.
"Don't be such a killjoy, Bob," Felicia replied. She turned to Bridget. "So, how much longer till that maintenance truck passes by?"
"By my measurements," Bridget consulted her watch, "about three minutes."
"This is seriously crazy, you guys," Bobbi continued. "How do you know the maintenance workers will be women? More importantly, how do you know they'll be your size?"
Bridget smiled in the rearview mirror. "I tapped into NASA's work records earlier today. The workers for tonight's shift are definitely female. I don't know if precisely they're our size, but I don't mind squeezing."
Bobbi rolled her eyes. "It still seems ridiculous," she said. "Knocking people out and stealing their clothes? Who does that?"
Bridget shrugged. "I've gotten plenty of great stories by 'borrowing' other women's clothes," she said. "It's a surprisingly effective tactic."
Felicia nodded. "Bridget taught me all about chloroform and knot-tying... and how to strip women quickly without damaging their uniforms."
Bobbi eyed her friend strangely. "You know, I think I should just head home and - "
"There!" Bridget interrupted. She pointed out the window. A pair of headlights could just be seen flickering around a grove of trees, growing closer to their hiding spot.
"Let's move!" Felicia excaimed.
Bridget gunned the engine and drove forward. The car rolled onto the road, stopping at an angle in middle of the two lanes.
The maintenance van rumbled into view. Spotting the black car sitting in middle of the road, the driver hit the brakes.
"Remember, girls - look helpless." Bridget winked at Felicia and Bobbi. "We need them to let their guard down."
Felicia nodded. Bobbi said nothing.
The right-hand front door to the maintenance van opened. One of the two workers got out. She was tall and blonde, dressed in dark blue coveralls, brown boots, and a white baseball cap. The driver, a similarly-attired Latina woman, remained at the wheel.
"Blondie looks about my size," Bridget whispered. "The driver's clothes could fit one of you girls, although it might not be a perfect match."
"I'm fine with what I'm wearing, thanks," Bobbi said. Felicia nudged her in annoyance.
The blonde knelt by the window, which Bridget obligingly rolled down. "Car trouble, ma'am?"
"Yes," Bridget replied. "I don't know what happened. We were on our way back from the shuttle site, and our car just stalled in middle of the road. I'm quite embarrassed."
"Wait..." The maintenance woman's brow furrowed. "You know about the shuttle?"
"Of course!" Bridget smiled warmly. "I'm Dr. Marcie Grant, and these two are my interns. Weird how we know so much about rocket ships, and yet none of us can restart a car."
The blonde smiled. "Wait here. I think we've got some jumper cables in our van. I'm Nikki, by the way."
She headed back to the van. "Liz, I gotta fetch the cables. We're about to help some rocket scientists."
"Take your time," the driver replied, pulling out a magazine from the glove compartment. "We're ahead of schedule as it is."
"What are you doing?" Bobbi whispered.
"Gaining their trust," Bridget replied. "Now for the fun part."
As Nikki re-approached the car, Bridget popped open the hood. "You distract her. I'll take care of the driver."
Felicia smiled. "I'm on it."
She stepped out of the car and ushered Nikki over to the raised hood. Thus preoccupied, the blonde did not notice Bridget slip out the front door and stroll over to the van.
The driver was flipping through a Cosmo magazine. She looked up when Bridget tapped on the window.
"Hi," Bridget smiled. "Sorry to bug you, but do you have a spare tire in the back? I think one of our wheels is losing air."
The driver returned the smile. "No problem. Just pop open the rear door."
"Thanks." Bridget headed around to the back of the van. She stepped inside, letting the door shut behind her.
The floor of the van was strewn with various tools and electronic devices. The tire sat near the left wall.
"Can you lift it on your own?" the driver asked - still reading, her back turned to Bridget.
"Oh, no worries," Bridget said, casually approaching the driver's seat from behind. "Turns out our tire is fine. The only thing losing air now... is you!"
So saying, she grabbed the driver's shoulders and pulled the startled woman back, up and over her seat.
The van rocked back and forth for a few moments as Bridget made short work of the helpless girl.
"Strange," Nikki said, her brow furrowed. "I can't seem to find anything wrong with the engine."
"Yeah," Felicia slowly replied. "Weird."
She glanced past the car hood to catch a look at the van. The back door opened, and Bridget gave her a thumbs-up.
"Guess we'll just restart the car and see what happens," Nikki said.
"On second thought," Felicia said with a hint of a smile, "we'll just take your van instead."
Nikki was still bent over the carburetor. "What?"
Felicia delivered a professional judo chop to the base of Nikki's neck. The woman stiffened, then collapsed and slid to the ground.
Bobbi got out of the car. "What the hell did you just do?"
Bridget approached, the unconscious Liz slung over her shoulder. "She did what she was supposed to - and she did it well. Come on, we need to strip these two."
Bobbi watched incredulously as Bridget and Felicia stripped the two maintenance workers of their boots, caps, and coveralls. They worked quickly and methodically.
"We're going to jail for this," Bobbi moaned.
"Oh, don't be so grim," Bridget replied. "I've been mugging women for disguises for years, and I've never been caught. Journalism is a tough job, and a girl's gotta do what she can to get a story."
"Hear, hear," Felicia agreed.
The two workers were now down to their bras and panties - Liz wore pink, while Nikki had lime-green. Bridget dragged their insensible bodies over to a nearby thicket and secured them, back-to-back, to a nearby tree. Their elbows and knees were bent backwards, and each had her wrists bound to the other woman's ankles.
"That should keep them immobilized," Bridget smiled. "Felicia, would you be a dear and gag these women?"
"My pleasure." Felicia produced a roll of tape she had found in the maintenance van, along with a couple of dirty rags. She opened Nikki's mouth, then thumbed home the silencing cloth. She wound the duct tape around Nikki's mouth a few times. Then she repeated the procedure on Liz.
Bobbi watched from a distance. "Will... will they be okay?"
Bridget grinned. "Of course. The temperature out here won't be very cold for the next couple of nights. These two should be fine, provided they don't exhaust themselves trying to escape those bonds." She turned back to Felicia. "Come on, partner. Time to suit up!"
Bridget and Felicia dressed quickly in the maintenance uniforms, and pulled on the boots and caps. They spent a few moments sizing each other up, ensuring that their disguises were convincing.
Bridget turned to Bobbi. "We'll need to get you a uniform, too."
"I imagine I'll be wearing a prison jumpsuit pretty soon," Bobbi murmured.
Bridget glared at her. "Hey. Like I said, we're not getting caught. The base is expecting two maintenance women tonight. We're going to be those women, and no one will know the difference."
"Okay, okay," Bobbi said defensively. "I get it. But what will I be doing?"
"You'll have to hide in the back. At least till we infiltrate the command center and find a worker who's your size."
Bobbi sighed. "Sure. Whatever."
She sat in the back seat of Bridget's 2014 Hyundai Sonata, arms folded. Bridget sat in the front seat, while Felicia took the shotgun position. The car was parked by a quiet, tree-lined roadside. All three women were dressed in black.
"Don't be such a killjoy, Bob," Felicia replied. She turned to Bridget. "So, how much longer till that maintenance truck passes by?"
"By my measurements," Bridget consulted her watch, "about three minutes."
"This is seriously crazy, you guys," Bobbi continued. "How do you know the maintenance workers will be women? More importantly, how do you know they'll be your size?"
Bridget smiled in the rearview mirror. "I tapped into NASA's work records earlier today. The workers for tonight's shift are definitely female. I don't know if precisely they're our size, but I don't mind squeezing."
Bobbi rolled her eyes. "It still seems ridiculous," she said. "Knocking people out and stealing their clothes? Who does that?"
Bridget shrugged. "I've gotten plenty of great stories by 'borrowing' other women's clothes," she said. "It's a surprisingly effective tactic."
Felicia nodded. "Bridget taught me all about chloroform and knot-tying... and how to strip women quickly without damaging their uniforms."
Bobbi eyed her friend strangely. "You know, I think I should just head home and - "
"There!" Bridget interrupted. She pointed out the window. A pair of headlights could just be seen flickering around a grove of trees, growing closer to their hiding spot.
"Let's move!" Felicia excaimed.
Bridget gunned the engine and drove forward. The car rolled onto the road, stopping at an angle in middle of the two lanes.
The maintenance van rumbled into view. Spotting the black car sitting in middle of the road, the driver hit the brakes.
"Remember, girls - look helpless." Bridget winked at Felicia and Bobbi. "We need them to let their guard down."
Felicia nodded. Bobbi said nothing.
The right-hand front door to the maintenance van opened. One of the two workers got out. She was tall and blonde, dressed in dark blue coveralls, brown boots, and a white baseball cap. The driver, a similarly-attired Latina woman, remained at the wheel.
"Blondie looks about my size," Bridget whispered. "The driver's clothes could fit one of you girls, although it might not be a perfect match."
"I'm fine with what I'm wearing, thanks," Bobbi said. Felicia nudged her in annoyance.
The blonde knelt by the window, which Bridget obligingly rolled down. "Car trouble, ma'am?"
"Yes," Bridget replied. "I don't know what happened. We were on our way back from the shuttle site, and our car just stalled in middle of the road. I'm quite embarrassed."
"Wait..." The maintenance woman's brow furrowed. "You know about the shuttle?"
"Of course!" Bridget smiled warmly. "I'm Dr. Marcie Grant, and these two are my interns. Weird how we know so much about rocket ships, and yet none of us can restart a car."
The blonde smiled. "Wait here. I think we've got some jumper cables in our van. I'm Nikki, by the way."
She headed back to the van. "Liz, I gotta fetch the cables. We're about to help some rocket scientists."
"Take your time," the driver replied, pulling out a magazine from the glove compartment. "We're ahead of schedule as it is."
"What are you doing?" Bobbi whispered.
"Gaining their trust," Bridget replied. "Now for the fun part."
As Nikki re-approached the car, Bridget popped open the hood. "You distract her. I'll take care of the driver."
Felicia smiled. "I'm on it."
She stepped out of the car and ushered Nikki over to the raised hood. Thus preoccupied, the blonde did not notice Bridget slip out the front door and stroll over to the van.
The driver was flipping through a Cosmo magazine. She looked up when Bridget tapped on the window.
"Hi," Bridget smiled. "Sorry to bug you, but do you have a spare tire in the back? I think one of our wheels is losing air."
The driver returned the smile. "No problem. Just pop open the rear door."
"Thanks." Bridget headed around to the back of the van. She stepped inside, letting the door shut behind her.
The floor of the van was strewn with various tools and electronic devices. The tire sat near the left wall.
"Can you lift it on your own?" the driver asked - still reading, her back turned to Bridget.
"Oh, no worries," Bridget said, casually approaching the driver's seat from behind. "Turns out our tire is fine. The only thing losing air now... is you!"
So saying, she grabbed the driver's shoulders and pulled the startled woman back, up and over her seat.
The van rocked back and forth for a few moments as Bridget made short work of the helpless girl.
"Strange," Nikki said, her brow furrowed. "I can't seem to find anything wrong with the engine."
"Yeah," Felicia slowly replied. "Weird."
She glanced past the car hood to catch a look at the van. The back door opened, and Bridget gave her a thumbs-up.
"Guess we'll just restart the car and see what happens," Nikki said.
"On second thought," Felicia said with a hint of a smile, "we'll just take your van instead."
Nikki was still bent over the carburetor. "What?"
Felicia delivered a professional judo chop to the base of Nikki's neck. The woman stiffened, then collapsed and slid to the ground.
Bobbi got out of the car. "What the hell did you just do?"
Bridget approached, the unconscious Liz slung over her shoulder. "She did what she was supposed to - and she did it well. Come on, we need to strip these two."
Bobbi watched incredulously as Bridget and Felicia stripped the two maintenance workers of their boots, caps, and coveralls. They worked quickly and methodically.
"We're going to jail for this," Bobbi moaned.
"Oh, don't be so grim," Bridget replied. "I've been mugging women for disguises for years, and I've never been caught. Journalism is a tough job, and a girl's gotta do what she can to get a story."
"Hear, hear," Felicia agreed.
The two workers were now down to their bras and panties - Liz wore pink, while Nikki had lime-green. Bridget dragged their insensible bodies over to a nearby thicket and secured them, back-to-back, to a nearby tree. Their elbows and knees were bent backwards, and each had her wrists bound to the other woman's ankles.
"That should keep them immobilized," Bridget smiled. "Felicia, would you be a dear and gag these women?"
"My pleasure." Felicia produced a roll of tape she had found in the maintenance van, along with a couple of dirty rags. She opened Nikki's mouth, then thumbed home the silencing cloth. She wound the duct tape around Nikki's mouth a few times. Then she repeated the procedure on Liz.
Bobbi watched from a distance. "Will... will they be okay?"
Bridget grinned. "Of course. The temperature out here won't be very cold for the next couple of nights. These two should be fine, provided they don't exhaust themselves trying to escape those bonds." She turned back to Felicia. "Come on, partner. Time to suit up!"
Bridget and Felicia dressed quickly in the maintenance uniforms, and pulled on the boots and caps. They spent a few moments sizing each other up, ensuring that their disguises were convincing.
Bridget turned to Bobbi. "We'll need to get you a uniform, too."
"I imagine I'll be wearing a prison jumpsuit pretty soon," Bobbi murmured.
Bridget glared at her. "Hey. Like I said, we're not getting caught. The base is expecting two maintenance women tonight. We're going to be those women, and no one will know the difference."
"Okay, okay," Bobbi said defensively. "I get it. But what will I be doing?"
"You'll have to hide in the back. At least till we infiltrate the command center and find a worker who's your size."
Bobbi sighed. "Sure. Whatever."
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micpop2
- Posts: 82
- Joined: Tue May 17, 2016 7:23 am
Re: To Steal a Spacesuit
love all your works mate!