F.I.S.T. vs L.I.P.S. - The Autoshow ( 2010)

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esercito sconfitto
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F.I.S.T. vs L.I.P.S. - The Autoshow ( 2010)

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F.I.S.T. vs L.I.P.S. - The Autoshow

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In the year 2019, the private security industry was more lucrative than ever. The gap between rich and poor had increased to a never before seen level and disorder seemed to be growing with each and every day. In the face of robberies, kidnappings, and other crimes, the rich retreated and paid handsomely for protection from the increasingly chaotic outside world. Gated communities to live in, guarded banks to bank in, ultra-secure office towers to work in: this was the life of the modern upper class, with many different security corporations competing for their business.

After a string of high profile incidents involving misconduct, unprofessional behavior, and in one case even assault by male security guards, many women of the upper class began to feel that their guards were nothing more than hired thugs, hardly trustworthy and barely better than the roving gangs of criminals that prowled the streets of the world's deteriorating cities. In response to this, a number of security firms began to offer all-female guard units, designed to put rich female clients at ease. The all-female security market grew rapidly as the popularity of such options soared, and soon there were two corporations who kept only women in their employ. Feminist Integrated Security Taskforce (F.I.S.T.) and Lawful Investigation, Protection, and Security (L.I.P.S.) were the two largest of the female only security companies, and while they occasionally cooperated in order to protect some vital location or catch some devious criminal, they were more often than not at eachother's throats. What would happen on April 27 of 2019 however, surprised even the most jaded of industry analysts.


*****


"3rd Annual New Detroit Autoshow," the banner said proudly above the main entrance of the New Detroit Convention Center. The line up to get in to the convention center was massive, but orderly under the watchful eye of F.I.S.T. security guards. Clad in full body armour and armed with submachine gun, the women of F.I.S.T. were vigilantly scanning the crowd for trouble as they were slowly processed by the security scanner.

"Please, come ahead," said a tall, muscular guard as she motioned over at me.

"I'm Katie Miller," I explained as I held up my press pass. "I'm with CarNews.com?"

"I'm sorry, but you still have to go through the scanner before we let you in. You know we have to be careful these days," said the guard politely. I sighed, and and stepped through a one of the many metallic gateways that had been set up in front of the convention center. The entire crowd, thousands of people, were going to have to pass through one of these gateways and be scanned for explosives and weapons before being able to enter for the autoshow.

"You're clear, go ahead," said the guard once my scan was over. "Please enjoy the show."

I nodded and left the entrance way behind, eager to begin my work. The New Detroit Autoshow was the largest showcase of new cars and automotive technology in the entire world, so there was certainly a lot to look at. I must have snapped a hundred photos at the Jaguar exhibit alone, where classic vehicles like the E-type sat next to stunning new concept cars like the hybrid powered Featherweight.

It was while taking photos of the Featherweight though, that a bizarre thing occurred. I was leaning on the trunk lid to take a photo of the interior through the rear windshield, when I thought I felt something like a little bump against my elbow. At first I thought I was imagining it, maybe the loud techno music in this display was driving me crazy, but after I snapped a few photos it seemed to happen again - the sheet metal under my elbow flexed just a little bit as if something had pushed against it. I looked down at the trunk curiously, and put my hands against its flawlessly smooth surface. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed anything as I felt it again - a slight, easy to miss bump against my hand. I leaned over, and was about to press my ear against the trunk when I felt the strong hand of a F.I.S.T. guard tap me on the shoulder.

"Excuse me miss, you're not allowed to touch the vehicle - please get behind the velvet rope!" she said, almost yelling in order to be heard clearly over the techno music. Like the other guards, she was dressed in body armour and carried an submachine gun slung over her back.

"I have a press pass!" I said to her, holding up my I.D. "I'm allowed past the velvet rope!"

She seemed surprised at this, which was strange at the time, and she motioned me away anyways. "Ummm, special exhibit!" she said to me, shooing me away. While I would have argued, I had taken all the photos of that car that I had wanted to anyways, and there was a lot more to see. Without giving the incident at the Jaguar exhibit another thought, I spent another hour moving among the reporters, the dealership owners, and the interested public and saw some great vehicles.

Moving from the techo of the Jaguar exhibit to the classical music of the Mercedes-Benz exhibit to the rock and roll of the Dodge exhibit eventually gave me a bit of a headache, but at 6 PM, much to my delight, the music finally came to a stop.

"Ladies and gentlemen," came a calm, soothing voice over the loud speakers, "this evening's main press conference is about to begin in the Grand Hall. If you are so inclined, please proceed to the Grand Hall for the press conference by EuroMotor."

While I didn't really expect anything great to happen at the press conference, I attended anyways and was proven right for most of it. I yawned at their speech on environmental friendliness, and almost left during their speech on employee diversity. I was glad I didn't leave though, because at the half hour mark things finally began to get exciting with the spokeswoman introducing a new electric engine that supposedly was better than any gas powered engine in the world. I immediately stood up to take photos, but was kicking myself for being lazy and getting a seat that didn't have a very good view of the stage. I tried standing up on my seat to snap a few photos, but a few mean words from the business women behind me convinced me not to try that again lest I block their view.

I was almost ready to give up and accept that I wouldn't be able to get any good photos when I noticed that an employee only entrance, not too far from me, seemed to be opened and left unguarded. I cautiously stood up, wondering what happened to the guard, as I inconspicuously walked over to the door and slid through it, hoping to find my way to a better vantage point of even backstage to take photos. As everyone was distracted by the engine coming to life onstage, no one noticed me slip through the door - although once I was inside, it was a different matter.

"Hey, who's that?"

"Jill must have assigned us a third girl. You, close the door and help us with this *****!"

I stared, wide eyed in amazement at the sight that greeted me on the other side of the door, as a woman dressed in a pantsuit had a uniformed F.I.S.T. guard in a chokehold while another woman held the guard's feet and prevented her from kicking.

"Ummmm..." I was wordless for a moment, just watching them struggle, the guard struggling to break the hold, desperate for air, while the pantsuited woman applied even more force to the guard's throat.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" demanded the pantsuited woman as the guard's face grew an unhealthy shade of red. I looked up and down the hallway, looking for someone or something that might explain what was going on, but I saw no one but the struggling women in front of me. With a look of confusion still on my face, I slid the door shut behind me.

"Come on, we've got to move fast," said the woman holding the guard's legs. "I don't think I've worked with you before though. My name's Alise."

"And I'm Emily," said the woman applying the chokehold as the guard finally seemed to lose consciousness in spite of her best efforts. She grinned as she watched the guard's limbs grow limp.

"Ummm... I'm Katie," I said nervously.


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"Well come on Katie, let's strip this *****," said Alise as she began to undo the laces of the guard's combat boots. She tossed it to the ground, where it was soon joined by the other one.

"So why'd they send you with us?" asked Emily as she undid the guard's kelvar vest, revealing the grey shirt underneath.

"She's got a camera," said Alise. "The boss probably sent her to take photos, you know, to post online."

Emily grinned as she pulled the guard's shoulder and elbow pads off, and began to take off her shirt. "Is that so?" she asked.

"Ummm.... yes," nodded Katie nervously as she snapped a photo of the guard's unconscious face.

"Hurray!" chuckled Alise as she tossed aside the guard's knee pads and began to undo her belt.

"We'll really have fun then," said Emily as she pulled the guard's shirt over her head to reveal a spartan white sports bra.

"Awww," she said, slapping at the breasts. "I was hoping this ***** would have on a sexy lacy number."

"Well, may the next one," replied Alise as she tugged down the guard's pants. "Looks like this one's a prude - she's even wearing pantyhose under her pants, and granny-panties under her pantyhose!"

"Well, at least it'll make for a good gag," said Emily as she began to take her own shirt off.

"Wait... what are you doing?" asked Katie as she watched Emily strip herself down to her underwear. The whole situation was just bizarre.

"Well, I'm the one who's supposed to be in her uniform - it can't be you, you can't take photos and be in uniform, right?"

Katie nodded, dumbstruck as she watched Emily put on the unconscious guard's shirt, kelvar vest, shoulder pads and elbow pads.

"Hey, are you just going to watch me dress, or are you going to take some photos of sleeping beauty here?" asked Emily, sounding a bit irritated. "I thought the boss sending you would be fun, but if - "

"Oh, no, I'm taking photos," said Katie, quickly snapping shots of the unconscious guard as Alise peeled her white cotton panties and nude pantyhose down her legs.

"Get a shot of me holding her panties next to her face," said Alise. "The boss will love that for the internet perverts who get off on this kind of thing."

Katie nodded, and began to feel sick to her stomach as she took photographs of Alise holding the panties next to the guard's face, and then balling them up, and then forcing the unconscious guard's mouth open and shoving them in. The panties were quickly sealed in with tape wound around the guard's head, which then went over her eyes to blindfold her as well.

"Hey, you forgot her pantyhose!" said Emily, tugging on the guard's pants.

"No, I didn't," said Alise, as she pulled the pantyhose over the guard's head. She giggled as she positioned the cotton gusset right over the guard's nose, and then use more tape to ensure the guard wouldn't be able to work the pantyhose off of her head any time soon.

"Oh, that's good - get some photos of that Katie," said Emily. "***** is going to angry as hell when she wakes up like that - lucky for us though, we'll already be gone."

Katie wordlessly snapped more photos of the unconscious, now gagged, blindfolded, and hooded guard, as Alise turned her over on to her stomach and pulled her hands behind her back.

"Get a close up on this!" laughed Alise as she held up the guard's own handcuffs. "Look at what's stamped on them! 'Property of Feminist Integrated Security Taskforce'!"

Katie forced a few chuckles out of her self to avoid suspicion as the two women laughed, and snapped more photos as the guard had her hands cuffed behind her back, her feet cuffed together, and her feet and hands joined together in a hog tie.

"That should do it," nodded Emily, now fully dressed in the guard's uniform and armour, wielding her submachine gun in one hand. "Now come on, let's drag her to the employee break room. The boss said that the last team to get to their alpha point loses half their performance bonus!"

And so the trio, plus bound and gagged prisoner, made their way down the hallway.

"God, she's heavy," complained Alise as she carried the now conscious and wiggling guard. "The fact that she won't stop struggling isn't helping either."

"Well, I imagine she doesn't like the taste - or the smell, for that matter, right now," said Emily, smiling widely. She pat the guard on the behind as she spoke. "I can't imagine why she's blaming us though - after all, it's her that she's smelling and tasting."

"Emily, is that you? You look like one of them!" said a voice from ahead.

"Samantha, you beat us here!" gasped Emily in mock horror.

"Of course we did, we had our FIST girl naked and tied in a 30 seconds flat," came the laughing response. "Come on, bring her in - you're not the last one, so you'll still get your precious performance bonus cash in its entirety. Who's that with you though?"

"Oh, this is Katie," said Emily as we entered the employee break room. I resisted gasping as I took in the sight inside.

"She's supposed to be taking photos, the boss attached her to us," continued Emily proudly.

"She occasionally needs a reminder to take photos though, like right now," said Alise as she dumped the hogcuffed F.I.S.T. guard onto the floor.

Katie took a photo as the guard squirmed in pain on the ground, and then panned her camera to take more photos of the nearly dozen women in similar states. They were all tall, muscular, and normally would be intimidating figures if they weren't all nearly naked, and all bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

"Emily!" came a friendly greeting from another woman, one of Emily's sisters in arms also dressed in a F.I.S.T. uniform. "Your prisoner looks good, I like the pantyhose hood! What'd you gag her with?"

"Granny panties," replied Emily. "She was wearing them under her pantyhose. What about yours?"

"Oh, just her socks," replied Emily's friend as she kicked a helpless guard cuffed on the floor. "You know me, I like the classics."

"No imagination," scolded Emily as she leaned down to examine the guard's gagged and blindfolded face. The guard was blushing red, humiliated not only at her defeat and stripping, but also at how her captors seemed to be talking her as if she wasn't even there.

"At least I stripped mine totally naked," said Emily's friend. "What's yours wearing over there, a big old sports bra? Jeez, these FIST girls, I tell ya."

"Alright, alright, enough screwing around," came a commanding voice that cut through the chatter of the ungagged women in the break room. "The last team has arrived, Sabrina and Joan. They won't be losing their performance bonus though, as they were the only team that thought to add a crotch rope to their captive."

Two smiling women, presumably Sabrina and Joan, entered the room carrying a naked, thoroughly restrained, and indeed crotch roped prisoner. They unceremoniously dumped her on the floor, prompting a barely audible squeak to emerge from her well gagged mouth.

"Now that we're all here, and we're all armed with the weapons that our gracious hosts have so kindly provided us with," the commanding woman said with a nod to the helpless F.I.S.T. guards, "we shall proceed together to rendezvous with Alpha Squad and then wrap up this operation. Good work so far ladies, but we're not done yet."

With a few parting kicks and mocking remarks, the mystery women who had incapacitated the F.I.S.T. guards filed out of the room. Katie snapped a photo instinctively as she saw one of the women reach down and pull on a guard's panties to give her a wedgie as a parting gift. Once they were all out in the hallway though, 12 women in full F.I.S.T. uniform and armour and 13 women in regular clothes, the door to the break room was closed and locked before the locking mechanism was jammed shut.

"We're right on time," said the Captain of the group as she examined her watch, "but let's not take any chances. Come on Blue Squad, let's hustle!"

The group broke out into a well disciplined jog so they made it to their destination in just over a minute. Katie wasn't sure who these people were, but their their talk of squads and Captains, their discipline, and the fact that they had just rendered a dozen well armed F.I.S.T. guards helpless indicated that these women had to be government military or at least top tier corporate forces.

"Halt!" called out the Captain as the group came to a stop next to what was apparently a changing room. "Those of you without uniforms, inside," she ordered. She and the uniformed members of Blue Squad remained in the hallway as Katie, Alise, and the others in street clothes entered the changing room. Just as before, the other women seemed to be delighted and snickered or joked about what they saw inside while Katie stared in horror and amazement.

What looked like three dozen F.I.S.T. guards were in the changing room on their knees. They were in various stages of undress, with some clad in bras and panties and socks and pantyhose, while others were completely naked. Their uniforms and body armour were piled up around them, while armed women held their own guns to their heads and kept painful grips on their necks or in their hair.

Feeling the gaze of Alise and the others, Katie knelt down and began to take photos of the bound and gagged F.I.S.T. guards, leaning in for close ups. In a few cases the guards had been crying, and the wetness of tears, or running black mascara marred their faces. In most cases though, the guards simply wiggled in forced silence, helpless and humiliated at the hands of their mysterious foes.



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"Hey shutterbug, you need a uniform," said Alise as she strapped on her own kevlar vest.

"I - I do? I only take photos - the boss - "

"Yeah, well once the boss gives the signal and we all get the hell out of here, you'll need a uniform, so put one on," said Alise.

Katie reluctantly put down her camera, and began to unbutton her blouse. She moved next to the only F.I.S.T. guard that still had a pile of equipment next to her, a squirming redhead in a lacy red bra the shade of her hair and a pair of aqua blue socks.

"Where - where are her panties?" asked Katie as she slid on the guard's shirt. She couldn't help but stare at the guard's rather unkempt pubic hair, as fiery red as the hair on her head.

"Her mouth," said the woman holding a gun to the guard's head.

"Wait a second," asked Katie as she strapped on the guard's kevlar vest. "If I'm putting on this guard's uniform, where'd you get your uniform?"

The woman sighed, and tapped a locker that was sealed shut with a thick looking lock. "We're putting them in their own lockers," she explained. "Any other questions?"

Katie shook her head, not wanting to arouse suspicion with too many questions. She hurried to put on the rest of her F.I.S.T. uniform and armour, and watched as the real F.I.S.T. guard was pulled by her hair to her feet.

"Wait!" said Katie the guard was about to be forced into a vacant locker. "Wait!" She rushed over to where she had left her camera, and coming back, began to snap photos again. "Okay, continue."



Image


Part Two

I watched as the redhead was roughly crammed into the locker. I kept snapping photos, being sure to capture her fiery red pubic hair in the shots - the colour contrast with her pale white skin was simply captivating, and would make for great photos.

Once my photogenic but unwilling subject was locked away in her locker, I quickly set to work on stripping off my journalist's garb and disguising myself as one of F.I.S.T's highly trained female warriors. I wasn't eager to leave behind my blazer as it was actually one of my favourites, but I was too involved in this whole thing now to stop and explain that I was an innocent bystander who had stumbled on to the whole thing. There was a chance that these attackers, whoever they were, would leave her bound and gagged in some needlessly painful and humiliating fashion, like all these F.I.S.T guards were. Nothing would be gained by coming clean with the truth now, and besides, she was getting an inside scoop that other reporters would probably kill for.

"Katie, get your head out of the clouds and hurry up!" said Alise, as she finished securing a knee pad to herself.

I nodded as I continuing stripping, tossing my crisp blue blouse and black trousers on top of my blazer on the floor. My choices in underwear had been practical that day, and I was glad for that as I stood there, the last one in the room to still be changing. I felt a few pairs of eyes linger on my body, clad only in a beige bra and low-cut boyshort panties, but no one said anything as I put on the uniform trousers, shirt, and protective body armour of F.I.S.T.

"Come on," said Alise, waiting patiently by the doorway as I finished. "Everyone else is outside."

I quickly made my way over to her, the clunk-clunk of my newly acquired steel-toed combat boots a strange and unfamiliar sound. Alise held the door open for me, allowing me to exit first, before joining me in the hallway and leaving the changing room unoccupied save for the bound, gagged, and blindfolded guards who's uniforms and equipment we now sported.

"Alright," said the Captain, nodding in satisfaction at her assembled troop of about 40 women. "We've done well for ourselves so far, and while you were in there ****ing around with our gracious but incompetent hosts, the other squads reported in over radio. As you know, Green Squad infiltrated this facility last night, replacing the F.I.S.T preliminary guard, and now are guarding the exhibits, the big stage, and more importantly, the building entrances and exits. As soon as we've done our jobs, they'll melt away, but we have to make sure we do our job smoothly to make sure they have the chance to do so unnoticed. I don't need to stress to you how much they are relying on us in this operation."

"No, ma'am!" came a spirited military style response from the enthusiastic imposters.

"Damn right," said the Captain, pride in her voice. "Orange Squad also reports being in position, but hopefully, we won't be needing them at all today. We've got everything and everyone we need to make this a smashing success for L.I.P.S today, so let's make it happen!"

The Captain, apparently a L.I.P.S Captain, then led us through the poured concrete maze of the hallways and staircases that allowed for workers and maintenance staff to move behind the scenes at the convention center. A few times we passed by electricians or technicians, and at one point a cleaning crew with mops and brooms, but no one stopped us or challenged us in our F.I.S.T uniforms. As we walked though, my mind was not on how well our disguises were working, but on what the ramifications of the Captain's words were. These women, who had brutally beaten and overpowered F.I.S.T guards, who had cruelly and mercilessly bound and gagged them, were not criminals, but members of L.I.P.S, or Lawful Investigation, Protection, and Security! It all made sense! The military style of address and action, the strict discipline and skill in overpowering and then restraining their foes - it all made sense now. L.I.P.S and F.I.S.T were the two best trained, best equipped, most respected women-security forces in North America, and what was embarrassing and bad for one was no doubt good and profitable for the other.

I felt proud of myself for having finally figured out what was going on, when I realized that we had been walking for a while. I wasn't quite sure where we were, but I could hear the noise of a crowd nearby, and I saw that we had stopped in front of a pair of steel security doors with two F.I.S.T guards - or at least, two women who looked like F.I.S.T guards - watching vigilantly. I tensed up as the Captain exchanged a few words with the two guards, but after one of them offered her a friendly slap on the back, I realized that they were members of the "Green Squad" I had heard mentioned earlier. They opened the heavy steel doors for us, and waved us through into a dark, cavernous room cluttered with unused lighting equipment and filled with the loud noises of the crowd and the almost completed EuroMotor press conference. I realized quickly that we were backstage in the Grand Hall, where perhaps half an hour and one outfit ago, I had been seated in the audience.

"Hey, what's going on, you're not supposed to be here!" came the angry words of a woman in a skirt suit and a wireless headset as she approached us.

"There's been a security breach," said our Captain in an official tone. The skirt suited woman gulped as Alise and the other imposters brandished their submachineguns menacingly.

"What - what do you mean - "

"We need to evacuate the E-Zero Engine," the Captain said, interrupting the skirt suited woman. She pointed at a wheeled trailer under a tarp, guarded by four supposed F.I.S.T guards.

"But that's the E-Zero Engine," shrieked the skirt suited woman frantically. "EuroMotor's entire future rests on that engine! It cost billions of Euros to develop it!"

"And that's why it's our priority to evacuate it!" said our Captain, shouldering her way past the nearly panicking suited woman.

"We - we paid a lot of money for you amazons to provide us with security!" she said angrily.

"And that's what we're doing - keeping your most prized possession secure," replied the Captain, as Alise and another imposter pulled the tarp off of the trailer.

"Fine, fine!" sputtered the skirt suited woman. "If this is some kind of mistake, or if the slightest harm comes to that engine though, then I'll have your contract cancelled! I'm telling you, if this is a mistake, you'll all be fired, you hear me?"

"Oh, this is no mistake," insisted our Captain, the slightest hint of a smile on her lips. She continued speaking with the skirt suited woman, who I gathered was some kind of Euro-Motors executive, as the trailer was slowly tugged away and towards another, further set of heavy looking steel doors. These, just like the last, were guarded by a pair of Green Squad who opened them up without question and allowed us into the loading dock at the rear of the convention center.

"Hey, what the hell is this?" demanded a man in a hardhat and a ridiculous mustache as he approached. I could see the doors to the outside opening up behind him, revealing a big 18-wheeler. A woman in a F.I.S.T uniform, presumably yet another member of Green Squad, motioned at it and it began to reverse inside.

"Official business, we're security!" said Alise, her voice full of contempt as she waved her submachinegun in the air.

"But - but - is that your truck? I didn't get any word from - "

"Security incident, a breach, no time to explain!" said Alise, cutting him off. "Just tell your people to stay out of our way while we load this into that truck, it might be an emergency!"

"Fine, fine," said the man as he raised his hands in resignation. "You security ladies have the guns, you're in charge, do your thing."

"Damn right we're in charge!" said the Captain loudly as she rejoined us. She motioned forwards, towards the truck, with her submachinegun. "Come on, move it!"

Without wasting a moment, the Captain's orders were obeyed, as the trailer holding the one of a kind E-Zero no-emissions engine prototype was pushed into the waiting truck. We all followed immediately, piling inside, where it was tight fit for nearly forty of us in our armour and equipment, but fortunately, we all managed to squeeze in.

"Green Squad, we're on the move, scatter and get out of there!" the Captain said into her radio once the 18-wheeler got underway.

"We did it!" said Alise in joy, offering Emily and I strong, proud handshakes. "We did it!"

"I only wish I could be there when they finally realize they haven't seen a security guard around for a while and then realize what happened!" said Emily, grinning widely as the huge truck accelerated.

The two continued to chat, while I held on to a nervous smile for appearance's sake. While I had gotten one hell of an inside story, and some undoubtedly exclusive photos, the fact that I had no idea where the truck was headed gave me more than a little bit of worry.





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Part Three (Conclusion)

The 18-wheeler containing myself, nearly 40 women in stolen F.I.S.T armour, and EuroMotor's electric E-Zero no-emissions engine prototype drove for what felt like an hour or so. It was a smooth ride for the most part, but the difference once we left the nicely paved and maintained roads of New Detroit was obvious.

"Good thing we have these helmets," said Alise as she was jostled up and down. "I don't know about you, but I didn't come this far just to get brain damage because of an Old Detroit pothole!"

"I still wish we weren't doing the exchange in Old Detroit," said another Emily, who had banged her head earlier.

"It makes sense though," replied Alise. "It's quiet, full of abandoned factories and warehouses from the old companies, and most importantly, no cops."

Emily opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it as we all felt the 18-wheeler slowly come to a stop.

"Alright people, we're here!" announced the Captain as the rear doors were thrown open and I saw that we were, as Alise expected, in the front lot of an old abandoned factory.

"Let's go, let's go," encouraged the Captain as she led the women out, with some of them dragging the E-Zero engine with them on its transport pallet.

"Jesus, it's even more of a wasteland than I expected," said Emily, kicking a piece of old rubble out of her way as we walked towards the abandoned factory. I watched, curiously, as the Captain seemed to be talking to someone on her radio but I wasn't close enough to hear any words. Even if I was though, the chatter of the other disguised F.I.S.T guards probably would have drowned her out.

"She thought she was real tough, but then I saw she had these cute little pink panties with flowers on them - "

"This one guard, she just did not want to open her mouth to be gagged, we practically had to choke her to get her to open up and take her pantyhose - "

"I'm going to buy every single newspaper tomorrow, keep them to remind myself of how badly we beat those F.I.S.T chicks - "

The chatter continued for a few minutes, but stopped as soon as the Captain raised her hand in a fist. "Something doesn't feel right," she said, as we stood at the entrance to the old factory. "Everyone stay alert, no more chit-chat."

We advanced into the factory, finding it dark and honestly, for me at least, creepy. The wind blowing through broken windows and old cracks in the walls made eerie noises, while every once in a while I could hear a strange rustling noise I couldn't quite identify.

"Stop there," an accented voice commanded from the darkness. A moment later, spotlights came on, illuminating our 40-woman band.

"We have the E-Zero prototype from EuroMotors," said the Captain, advancing towards the voice. "Do you have our money?"

A few more lights came on, illuminating a woman in an expensive looking pantsuit on a catwalk above us. On either side of her were women dressed in combat armour even more sinister looking than ours, coloured in flat black and complete with gas masks.

"Of course I have your money," the woman in the pantsuit continued, her Russian accent now obviously recognizable. She tossed down a briefcase to the Captain, who caught it in her hands and opened it.

"Are you satisfied?" asked the Russian woman as the Captain examined the money.

The atmosphere was tense as the Captain was silent. "No," she said at last. "This money... this money is fake!"

The Russian woman laughed, as she gestured into the darkness. My heart raced as I heard weapons being readied, rounds chambered.

"We have always dealt fairly with Moscow Motors!" shouted the Captain angrily, throwing the briefcase of fake money aside. "Why have you done this?"

"Because, my dear," said the Russian woman condescendingly, "our parent company has just purchased Rodina Security Force, and we're expanding into North America. What could be better for our growth than the news media not only hearing about F.I.S.T being overpowered and humiliated, but also L.I.P.S being a gang of corrupt mercenary thugs? I had planned for you to take the money and then fall into a trap further down the road, but I planned for this eventuality as well."

"You deceptive Russian *****, we had a deal!" shouted the Captain. "You can't do this to us!"

"Oh, I think I can," replied the Russian. "You are surrounded by Rodina Security Force agents, you are light up in a spotlight for easy targeting. You are outnumbered and outgunned. You saw through my plan, and for that I applaud you, but now you must surrender. What do you say to that?"

I watched as the Captain breathed tensed up, along with the rest of us. In spite of the Russian's warning, I could see hands tensing around weapons, ready to fire blindly into the darkness. These women were ready to go down fighting, and I had to respect their courage, even as I dreaded what was to come.

"I say..." the Captain licked her lips. "I say, Code Orange."

The Russian woman raised an eyebrow, confused as she looked down at us. "What?"

"Code Orange!" shouted the Captain, prompting the two armoured women behind the Russian to take off their gas masks, throwing them aside.

"What the hell? What is this?" demanded the Russian as the two women grabbed arms and forced her hands behind her back. There were whoops and hollers, both from us and from women in the darkness, as the Russian had her hands ziptied behind her back.

"What the hell is going on!" she demanded in a panicked tone.

"I'll tell you what's going on," said the Captain, now smiling broadly. "I knew that Rodina Security Force was moving in. I knew that your parent company had bough them. And I planned for your possible, although regrettable, betrayal."

"But... how?" demanded the Russian as her finely tailored pants were pulled down, revealing stunningly long legs and a pair of silk black panties.

"I'll show you," said the Captain, enjoying watching the Russian get stripped. As the panties and shoes came away from her body, a pair of utilitarian brown nylon knee highs were revealed.

"Lights!" called out the Captain, causing more spotlights to be turned on, illuminating most of the old factory. What looked like 80, maybe more, women armed with rifles and equipped with Rodina Security Force armour were now visible, although none of them had their gas masks on.

"Those aren't my guards!" exclaimed the Russian as her blouse was torn open, revealing a black bra.

"Exactly," the Captain. "Anticipating your betrayal, I had our Orange Team replace each and every one of your guards. Don't worry, they're fine, although probably uncomfortable. If you hadn't betrayed us, I would have taken the money, released your guards to you, and we all would have walked away. But now, you've betrayed us, so you'll be joining them."

"Where are they?" asked the Russian, seemingly afraid of what the answer might be.

"See for yourself," said the Captain, as she gestured upwards, prompting some of the spotlights to shift their light up towards the high ceiling of the abandoned factory.

The Russian's gasp was clearly audible as she saw her guards, about 80 of them, bound and hanging by their ankles from the ceiling rafters. They were all in a state of undress, clad only in their underthings. I could see a variety of bras and panties on display, while the more fortunate of the Rodina Security guards still had their pantyhose on. More than a few looked to be hooded with the hosiery that had previously been on their legs. As I watched them struggle, I realized now that some of the eerie noises I couldn't put my finger on were coming from them - gagged as they were, with thick bands of duct tape around their heads covering their mouths, they could only emit low moans. They were blindfolded as well, so they couldn't see us, but the laughter from the L.I.P.S guards was enough to let them know that they were now on display.

"You... you're cruel! Merciless monsters!" shouted the Russian executive.

"You asked for the F.I.S.T guards to be stripped and restrained in a humiliating fashion so that the media exposure and damage to their reputation would be maximized. All I did was apply your instructions here as well," said the Captain.

"You'll pay for this!" shouted the Russian, struggling with her captors.

"No, I think you will," said the Captain. "You see, because you and Rodina Security Force are about to suffer some very bad publicity. I've made the call already, the media will be here in about half an hour. What they're going to find is you and these Rodina guards all tied up and helpless, with the E-Zero engine prototype. The story will be that you evil Russian sorts did those horrible things to F.I.S.T, while we at L.I.P.S stopped you and rescued the engine. We'll be the heroes of the day, while you... well... you'll be chewing on those knee-highs for a bit."

"You can't do this!" insisted the Russian.

"I've heard enough," said the Captain, prompting one of the women in Rodina armour to punch the Russian in the stomach.

"Wow Captain, good plan," said Alise, as the Russian was stripped in the background.

"I can see why we pay you the big bucks," agreed Emily.

"It's what I do," said the Captain. "Now come on, everyone. Let's change back into our real L.I.P.S uniforms - you up on the catwalks, once you have her tied up, you too. We have to look nice and professional, reliably heroic, once the media arrives to interview us about our stopping the evil Russian plot!"

There were cheers all around as the women hanging upside down from the rafters continued their silent, futile struggling.
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