Everest

i | boss level hostage

SAFIRA had done many foolish things in her life.

Jumped from a plane, stolen hundreds of cars, drunk far too much with far too many strangers and taken a multitude of lives.

What she hadn't gotten around to doing however, up until now of course, was get herself kidnapped.

She found she didn't mind the rough-handling nor the musty sack that had been yanked over her head - after all, she had known exactly what she'd been in for when she'd thrown herself into the path of these baboons - but it was the smell she couldn't tolerate any longer.

The bastards who'd tied her feet and wrists together and dumped her into the back of their trunk really didn't keep up with their hygiene. It was one thing to laugh and have a great, fucking time in the front, but they could've at least left her a bag to breathe into.

A few more minutes of this and she might even pass out to give her poor senses some relief.

The car she lay in went over a particularly rough pothole and she swore as her head banged against the top of the trunk, imagining a hundred different ways she could skin her captors alive as she heard their raucous laughter pouring towards her. They knew exactly what they were doing, those assholes.

It gave her some solace to think about how this would be over soon and the idiots' in-front would hopefully be dead within the next five minutes. Maybe then she'd give each lifeless body a good kick to help along its journey to hell.

As the car slowed, exactly as she'd predicted, she thrust all thought out of her head and breathed through her mouth, trying to focus on the sounds leaking in through the rundown trunk she was temporarily locked in.

There was a single strand sticking out of the cloth bag shoved over her head, and it tickled her nose just long enough to draw out a violent sneeze. She groaned.

Wiggling the little blade she'd kept clutched in her palm towards her fingers, she set to work on the rotting pieces of rope that bound her hands together. Peering through the tiny holes of the bag around her head, she worked as fast as she could, adrenalin coursing through her veins as she did what she loved doing the most.

As the sound of multiple doors slamming shut and raised voices weakly reached her alert ears, the ropes around her hands snapped free and she took a moment to rub her sore wrists. Bending down uncomfortably, she began on the tougher strands holding her legs together as the voices outside rose higher, clearly engaged in an argument - until the sound of a gunshot tore through the air deafeningly.

There was a shout and then silence, and she stifled a grin as the rope twined around her legs fell apart - she was free. With movements far too graceful for someone locked in the back of a tiny trunk, she managed to tug out another loop of stretchy, almost identical looking rope stored safely inside her bra and snapped it onto her legs, binding them once again with a sigh before doing the same to her wrists.

Just as she finished and relaxed back into a helpless, trapped position, the trunk popped open loudly and someone swore before tugging the sack off of her head.

She blinked into the sudden, blinding sunlight pouring in and tried to take a peek at her surroundings, but her view was blocked. Peering up at the blurry shapes of the two figures standing before her, framed by the far too bright sky above, she managed to school her expression into one of panic and terror.