Lady Shelley Le'fay felt refreshed and not the slightest bit tired after her fifty minute morning yoga class had concluded. She avoided the elevator on the way down, thinking that the ten flights of stairs would give her a decent cardio workout. Upon exiting the building she was perplexed to find the normally busy square surprisingly scarce of people. More alarming was the discovery that the road where she had parked her car off of was now closed. Not only was there a weather-beaten sign in the middle of the road announcing the obvious, "Road Closed," but barricades consisting of barrels linked to one another with heavy rope blocked the sidewalk. A handwritten sign hanging from a section of rope likewise declared "Sidewalk Closed." Shelley stood there, puzzled at this unforeseen development. She could easily step over the rope, but the thought of walking over it never occurred to her.
Although she was a Royal Lady from birth, she never considered her rank a free pass to special privilege, and besides, she was in America. Wealth, not titles of nobility, was what mattered here, or so she often observed. Shelley, an heir not only to a title but also to a vast fortune, was never wanting of anything. Still, she practiced modesty in most things. One of the few exceptions was the wearing of the family diadem with all the prestige and attention it naturally attracted. Fashioned from hoary gold and decorated resplendently with equally ancient rubies the diadem carried the public symbol of her House as well as a great private power. Enchanted with sorcery from a wizard greater than Merlin her diadem granted access to the now all but extinct domain of magic. This gift was bestowed only to a wearer who was a female blood descendant of the wizard. That gift was limited to a single lady just once every five hundred years. Shelley was now the third such lady. Her secret training by the Nuns of the Holy Order of Augusta had begun and concluded in her sixteenth year. That was barely more than two years ago. For a moment Shelly wondered if she could tap into the diadem's well of mystical powers and teleport her car to where she was standing.
Before she could think this through further, a female construction worker approached her and warmly apologized for inconvenience of the road block. Shelley thanked her, then admitted somewhat embarrassingly that she had parked her car on a side street two blocks down the now closed road. The worker, who was extremely attractive and looked to be near the same age as Shelley, pulled a walkie talkie out from a holster on her tool belt. With a polite smile she stepped back and briefly turned away. She spoke so softly that Shelley could barely hear that she was talking. The female voice that squawked a reply back through her walkie talkie was anything but inaudible: "Tell her to proceed immediately to her vehicle, and I'll give the all-clear for her." Shelley took the message to heart. She again thanked the worker before she headed down the street.
As Shelley walked briskly she cheerfully thought about how timely the appearance of the construction worker had been. A firm-believer in female empowerment the fact that a woman as young as herself and very attractive too was working in vocation usually dominated by males impressed her heavily.
* * *
Shelley approached a parked van and noticed that its side door was open. Assuming that the van was empty her instinct was to close the door, which a passenger, so she thought, must have forgotten to shut. She was wrong on both counts.
* * *
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Never be too confident because in a split second life can turn topsy-turvy. This mantra was often repeated by Shelley's mom in the years that followed her husband's unexpected death. Shelley was too little at the time to remember her father, but she could recall her mom saying that phrase from her earliest memories. It was the first thing to pop into her head as soon as she went to close the van's door.
She had just started to reach for the door's handle so that she could slide it shut when she realized that the van wasn't empty. A female dressed in military fatigues was squatting in the cabin and aiming a gun of some sort directly at her. Her face was completely concealed behind a mask with dark lenses obscuring her eyes. Time seemed to freeze for Shelley. She could sense her mom saying her dour catchphrase. She heard a loud whoosh of air as if a can of soda being opened was broadcast over an amplifier. She felt a prick in her neck. She looked down and from the corner of her eye saw the feathery end of dart sticking out from her scarf. Whether she would have felt relieved or panicked was moot. The next instant a rush of darkness consumed her as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Shelley collapsed to her knees, her torso pitching forward into the open van. The masked woman immediately leaned forward, and grabbing a fistful of hair, lifted her head from the floorboard. Her other hand continued to train the tranquilizer gun on her. The construction worker who had directed her down the street came running. Despite wearing hard sole boots her feet moved quietly. She carried a taser in one hand, its electrical arc active as she squeezed the trigger. She dropped to her knees, intentionally landing on Shelley's handbag so as to prevent Shelley from being able to reach inside it. That precaution was unnecessary. Shelley was completely insensate. However, her assailants risked nothing to chance. The construction worker jabbed the taser into her side. Her body flailed spasmodically like a fish out of water flapping helplessly in a fisherman's boat. Indeed she was now the catch of the day as her still twitching body was hauled inside the van, the masked woman yanking her by the hair, the other grabbing her legs and shoving her completely in the van. The construction worker followed and slammed the door shut behind her. She flipped her helmet from her head and unhooked her belt. She dumped both into the passenger's seat before squeezing into the driver's seat. The masked woman had already begun stripping Shelley out of her sweater and shirt. She secured Shelley's hands behind her back with zipties before she likewise restrained her legs with ties around her ankles.
As the van peeled away, a solitary figure, who had been crouching on a nearby rooftop, rose. She brushed a long lock of blonde hair from her face before she headed toward the still open access door. She was in no hurry, for she knew the identity of the assailants and where they were heading.
( Alternate scene)
Shelley collapsed to her knees, her torso pitching forward into the open van. The masked woman immediately leaned forward, and grabbing a fistful of hair, lifted her head from the floorboard. Her other hand continued to train the tranquilizer gun on her. The construction worker who had directed her down the street came running. Despite wearing hard sole boots her feet moved quietly. She carried a taser in one hand, its electrical arc active as she squeezed the trigger. She dropped to her knees, intentionally landing on Shelley's handbag so as to prevent Shelley from being able to reach inside it. That precaution was unnecessary. Shelley was completely insensate. However, her assailants risked nothing to chance. The construction worker jabbed the taser into her side. Her body flailed spasmodically like a fish out of water flapping helplessly in a fisherman's boat. Indeed she was now the catch of the day as her still twitching body was hauled inside the van, the masked woman yanking her by the hair, the other grabbing her legs and shoving her completely in the van. The construction worker followed and slammed the door shut behind her. She flipped her helmet from her head and squeezed into the driver's seat. The masked woman had already begun stripping Shelley out of her sweater and shirt. She secured Shelley's hands behind her back with zipties before she likewise restrained her legs with ties around her ankles.
As the van peeled away, a solitary figure, who had been crouching on a nearby rooftop, rose. She brushed a long lock of blonde hair from her face before she headed toward the still open access door. She was in no hurry, for she knew the identity of the assailants and where they were heading.
The masked woman monitored Shelley from a bench seat that was set against the wall of the van. Her tranquilizer gun laid on the seat beside her. She carefully placed it between her and the driver's seat so that it was not within reach of Shelley. The young princess lay on a mattress behind the rear doors. She had been deposited there on her side, her wrists and ankles being securely ziptied behind her. She remained motionless, aside from her head bobbing occasionally in response to a bump in the road.
It was a short drive for the kidnappers to their destination. Parking in a private garage made their exit worry free of surveillance. A short time later the pair traded in their bounty, each receiving a thick, sealed envelope from a woman known as the Mynx.
With a nod of her head, members of the Mynx's all female entourage whisked Shelley into a room that had been set-up as a photographer's studio. Her diadem was stripped from her head, bagged, and then taken away by one member of the group. The two remaining women cut the zipties from Shelley's ankles and wrists. Padded cuffs attached by chains were then shackled to her wrists. They hoisted her up a ladder and suspended her from the ceiling, dropping the links of her chains over a sturdy hook anchored from the ceiling. The prize now secured, they removed the ladder just as the Mynx sauntered into the room. She said nothing, but simply watched as one of her lackeys walked behind a camera mounted on a tripod and began taking pictures of the dangling princess.
So this is this contact, she mused to herself, that Demokratia was supposed to meet. She immediately looked forward to when that event would happen. It would not be as the now brainwashed super spy had planned.
Mynx spotted a roll of duct tape lying on the floor. Its recent use was evident from the strips that had been used to hold down the lighting cables so that they wouldn't become a tripping hazard. "Tape her mouth shut," she said, gesturing at the roll. "And pull her shirt up." The taller of the two ladies retrieved the roll as ordered and tore off two pieces of tape which she stuck one across the other over Shelley's mouth. Before she backed away, she neatly rolled her top up so that her breasts were fully exposed. Mynx liked what she saw. Those petite breasts were dwarfed by her own massive mammaries. That distinction imparted a sense of pride and confidence to her.
