Angel of Mercy

Part 1

Walker sat in the van, trying to look inconspicuous. He'd been driving different vehicles, parking in different places, adopting different guises, even pretending to be an electrician once. Observing, observing, observing. His boss had set his eyes on this woman, and it was his job to deliver her.

He'd followed the woman for a month, watching her hug her husband before work, watching her leave her infant son at daycare, slowly working out her routine. He'd discovered that on Fridays she'd come home early for a trip to the tennis club. He knew she picked up her son around 6pm every day. So far he had not found a chink in her schedule where he could easily grab her, but he wasn't worried. There were still gaps he had not filled yet. Right then for example she was at home when she should be at work.

Perhaps it would be best to abduct her with her son, he mused. That would be an easy way to obtain her compliance. But then again, he knew the boss preferred to do things the hard way ... and besides, disposing of the infant afterwards could be inconvenient. Diane, he remembered, her name is Diane. It was easy to forget when you treated her as meat. A prime cut of meat though. His boss picked only the finest.

He yawned. Nothing seemed to be happening. There was no movement in Diane's house. Perhaps Diane was ill, and asleep?

Then he saw her. Though still a distance, she was walking towards him. Not Diane, but a different woman. Where Diane was a brunette, this woman had white, almost silver, hair. She was dressed in long red robes and carried what appeared to be a walking stick. Yet she approached with surprising alacrity, and as she drew closer he noticed she wasn't old at all. In fact, she was a weary-looking but still innately beautiful woman, the kind who could have been truly lovely if she just tried. In spite of her tired appearance, she moved with an otherworldly grace Walker had never seen before. He guessed her age at about 25, although there was something timeless about her that he couldn't put a finger on. Something sparkled about her head, and he realized with a start it was a tiara. This is no normal woman, he thought. This is a rare find.

The boss would be delighted. So delighted that perhaps he should abandon his surveillance of Diane and track this woman instead. It was not like Diane was going anywhere anyway, and the boss was not miserly with praise. He could even earn a fat bonus cheque as well as priority time with this woman! He could already feel stirrings. Yes, he thought. He'll do it. Maybe he could even grab her now! The streets were almost empty after all, and she was alone.

He was still caught up in his schemes when the woman passed his van, startling him. Nobody can walk that fast in those clothes, he thought. So much for seizing her at once. But before he could think, she surprised him again. "Hello!" she called, noticing him inside. "Can you inform me of the leader of this nation?"

He felt like a deer caught in headlights, and his reply was guarded. "Sure," he answered. "The prime minister is David Cameron."

"Do you know where to find his person?" she asked.

Her speech was weird, just like her attire. Understandable, but somehow incoherent. "Of course," he answered, puzzled. Everyone knows where to find David Cameron. "The Prime Minister's office is at Downing Street, London. I don't think he's out of the country."

She did not seem to understand. "Does the nation have problems? Wars?" she asked.

He grew suspicious. For sure Britain had problems. Global warming, stagnant wages, Scottish independence, you name it. Britain was also involved a war, the War on Terror. Everyone knew that. And if they didn't they wouldn't suddenly ask a stranger on the road about it. Cautiously he shook his head: no.

This time she definitely did not understand him. Instead she just looked at him expectantly. Does she not understand a shake of the head? Even if she were from some obscure country she should recognize the gesture. This woman must be mentally retarded. Pity ... the boss prefers intelligent women, but nonetheless better a stupid beauty than an intelligent wretch. "No," he supplied.

"I understand." She considered for a moment. "Can you take me to David Cameron?"

His brain whirred furiously, and he came to a snap gamble. "Yes, yes of course," he said. They were in Manchester, far from London and Downing Street, but the boss's mansion was not that far away. He would take her there and save himself the trouble of abducting her later. He noticed with some unease that she wore what appeared to be a sword across her back, but this woman was so stupid he decided he'd take the risk. "If you'll climb in, we'll be there before you know it." He hoped she'd fall for it.

Against all odds, she did. She sat down beside him, let him fasten the customized seat belt only he the driver could release, and made no protest as he started driving. She was trapped, and he'd barely had to do anything. He smiled to himself. If only abducting other women was this simple! But then again, he mused, if it were he'd lose the fun of outwitting his prey.

Part 2

They cruised along the motorway in silence, the woman scanning the countryside like a tourist. For a moment Walker wondered if he should blindfold the woman. It was a standard safety precaution; a captive who has no idea where she is being held is less likely to attempt an escape. Not that anyone escaped, mind, and in fact it was more fun punishing them when they tried, but the boss had been adamant. If someone escapes, he had said, it will be your head on the gallows. Worse, my head will be right next to yours. Of course capital punishment was no longer being practiced in the UK, but Walker understood the meaning.

Regardless ... he had not subdued this woman. Her hands were free, and there was nothing to separate her from him. She could easily reach over and seize the steering wheel. Besides, she had a sword. The blade would be unwieldy within the van's tight confines, and he wasn't certain if it were a sharp blade, in fact he wasn't certain it was a sword at all, but if he were wrong he could well be giving the van's interior a new coat of red paint. It's alright, he decided. She must be a foreigner unfamiliar with the roads. She didn't know we're not in London, she won't recognize where we're going. It was a bit far-fetched that a tourist could fail to know what city she was in, but he put the thought away.

They were approaching the boss's estate now. The boss's mansion was big, the garden even bigger. Tending to it would've been difficult had it not been for the captives. They needed exercise, the boss knew, and what better alternative was there then to put them to work gardening? For that purpose, he had had the estate shielded with thick, high walls and installed security guards at the entrance. The women worked naked, weeding and sowing with their bare hands. Walker had always found the sight of them all muddy and sweaty erotic. He could see no workers right now, though, and for that he was grateful. He didn't want his captive to freak out before she had been restrained.

One of his colleagues, Bill, was waiting at the front door. "Who is this?" He asked, surprised, as Walker alighted. "You didn't blindfold her?" Walker cut him off before he could say more. "She's just here to see the prime minister," he said as he undid her seatbelt. "Call him and let him know we're coming." The woman had been so docile, he was not worried to release her. He was still troubled by the sword, however. "Weapons are not allowed near David Cameron," he said. "You'll have to leave that here. Just give it to Bill."

"The prime minister ...?" Bill began, confused, but he soon caught on. "Ah, right. You should leave that ... stick as well. The prime minister is very concerned about his safety."

The woman didn't. "I must keep the staff. It is a very precious item."

"We won't damage them," promised Walker. "We'll just hold them for you. You can have them back when you leave." We'll bury them with you if we torture you to death.

The woman considered for a moment. "You can have them," she said eventually, "but they must not depart my line of vision."

Good enough, he thought, as he took the weapons. I must make it a point to check what's so valuable about them afterwards. He vaguely remembered reading about gold-encrusted swords with ruby sheaths. That would yield a good bonus. When he stole a glance at the sheath though, it looked completely plain. The sword, maybe? It may not even be a sword, he reminded himself, although it certainly felt like a piece of metal.

"This way," he said, putting aside his thoughts. He led the way to the basement. It wasn't actually a basement, but rather a vast subterranean level. This was where all the women were held, and where all newcomers were interned. The boss kept his captives out of sight from newcomers, though. He preferred to keep his intent hidden as long as possible. "All women fantasize about being abducted and raped," he once said, "but the look on their faces when they finally realize it is happening is priceless".

He brought the woman to the interrogation room, a massive hall twenty meters long. Animal heads lined the walls, the relics of the boss's hunting trips in Africa. There were a few chairs around, on one of which he placed the sword and stick, but the rest of the room was largely empty. The only other piece of furniture was a desk at the opposite end. The boss was there waiting for them.

"So this is the woman who's more important than Diane," he said to Walker. "Well, she's certainly a looker, even in those clothes. And I guess Diane will always be there. Did she come willingly?" When Walker nodded, the boss laughed and got up. "Well, payday comes early."

Walker wondered if the boss was starting off fast or slow. Sometimes he espoused the shock and awe tactic, getting his victims naked at once and not giving them time to think. Other times he took it slowly, explaining every little detail, while the women grew ever more horrified. This woman though dropped into a deep curtsy as the boss walked up. That was another first. Courtesies were not something that happened in this room.

The boss seemed mildly amused. "Slave, face forward and don't move," he said, circling the woman.

Walker thought he saw a flash in the woman's eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. "I did not come here to be enslaved," the woman replied, her face emotionless. She was turning to keep the boss in front of her. Disobedience, thought Walker. This was one of the first things every slave had to be cured of.

"Shut up, slave" the boss said harshly. "If you speak again without being spoken to, you will be punished." He eyed the woman hard, as though daring her to speak, but she only stared back with equal intensity. "Good. You learn fast. We may not have to kill you."

"When you passed through my gates, you signed yourself to be my eternal fuck toy," he continued. "You exist only to pleasure me. I choose what pleasure means. If it pleases me to rape you, you will make it the best fuck ever of my life, or you will be punished. If it pleases me to whip you, you will endure without making a sound, unless I desire you to scream, when you will scream yourself hoarse. If you cease to please me, I will give you to my men, after punishing you of course. They will fuck you in your cunt, in your mouth, in your asshole. They will fuck you in ways you cannot imagine. They will fuck you three at a time. When nobody is fucking you, you will be put to work in the household, cleaning my clothes, preparing my food, tending my garden. You will obey, or you will be punished. Shall I show you?" He drew a whip from his desk, but went on without waiting for an answer. "This is the crudest method of punishment. We have far crueller ways to maintain discipline, and fertile minds to invent new ones. Some people think the threat of death ensures control, but we don't. Pain is far more effective."

"You will die in this place. My mansion is miles away from my nearest neighbour. Escape is quite impossible; nobody has ever gotten so much as out of this building. It goes without saying that you will be severely disciplined if you try. Rescue is equally impossible. We have an excellent, mutually beneficial relationship with the local police. Even if a rescue does occur, you will be killed first and your body destroyed. Do not attempt to incite pity or compassion; we have none. If you cease to be useful, we will kill you. If you cease to be attractive, we will kill you. If you get pregnant, we will kill your child. There are always new, amusing methods of killing. Or, if it is your child we kill, we will make you cook him and eat him for lunch. You will obey, or you will be punished." He swung the whip through the air, making a resounding crack.

The woman was still frustratingly tranquil, so tranquil that Walker thought he could see traces of a smile. Even the boss seemed affected. Implacable as he usually was, his customary speech had been less than eloquent. Right then he stopped, staring at the woman. "Before I continue, you will take off that dress." When she made no move, he added: "Or my man will assist you."

The woman touched a hand to her breast, but quickly lowered it again. One long minute passed as the two stared intensely at each other.

Finally the boss glanced at Walker, then walked off to inspect the woman's weapons with feigned disinterest. Walker smiled. This was the part he enjoyed most. The woman did not seem unfit physically, but her slender frame could not match his pure muscle. Hours of work in the gym had seen to that. He was taller as well, with the longer reach. He had beaten men bloody in numerous street battles, and had the scars to prove it. She was even dressed clumsily, not to mention did not have her weapons.

Casually, he moved in. The woman raised her hands to eye level as he approached, but launched no attack. Her manner was natural, and he realized she must have had some martial arts training. Pity they evidently didn't teach her risk assessment. "Don't pick fights you can't win" was one of the first things he had learned. He knew from experience that most people led with a punch to the face. More than one of his fights had ended brutally as he anticipated the move and delivered a crushing counterattack.

True enough, the woman's threw her right fist at his head. He dodged and grabbed at her arm, as he had a hundred times before, but it had only been a feint. Instead she sidestepped and delivered a fierce left-handed punch to his stomach. Rock-hard muscles gave an inch, but even as he reeled from the blow she had tangled her feet around his. Half a heartbeat later, she had kicked the back of his knee and shoved him in the chest, and he fell so hard he saw stars. Through a red mist he felt kick after kick to his sides. He tried to grab the woman's legs, but she moved so quickly he might as well have been grabbing at a fly. Instead the woman stamped down on his wrist, a blaze of pain shooting through him. He could hear his bones breaking. He tried to get up, but had only stumbled to his knees when another kick caught him full in the chin, and the world grew black.

Part 3

When Walker came to, it was to a haze of pain. His hand was an agony, and he could feel bruises all over. Somewhere, an alarm was ringing. He tried to move, but his body protested violently. This is no normal woman, he thought sullenly. This is a martial arts expert.

The alarm was still ringing. He knew what that meant: all hands were to get here at once. It had never been used before, save in drills. He looked around. The boss had retreated to his desk with the woman's weapons; the woman was intently scanning the room. He realized she was losing the initiative. If she didn't act fast, all seven of the boss's men would be here. Still the woman did not attack. Instead she seemed to be waiting.

The men soon arrived. "What's up, boss?" began one, before he noticed Walker slumped on the floor. "You seriously got your ass kicked by a woman?" The other guards laughed. "Wimp," joked one. "You didn't even manage to hit her, did you?" No, thought Walker bitterly, this woman is dangerous. But speaking proved too painful.

The boss cut in. "You disappoint me. I need to make you guys take karate courses." He spat in disgust. "Seize this woman. Beat her bloody and show no mercy. I want her so bruised that she can't walk for a week." The boss sat down, then called into the intercom. "Slave 6, get your ass in here. At once."

The naked slave entered the room just as the seven men spread out in front of the woman. Walker recognized the slave. She had been one of her first abductees. It had taken a few days, but they soon broke her spirit. Docile now, she was one of the boss's favourite toys. Walker regularly raped her himself and made her thank him for it. What was her name again? Mary? Marianne? Diane? No, Diane was her next prey. Thinking hurt. "Suck my cock," the boss said. The slave hurried to obey. She could see the boss was furious, and furious meant punishment.

The woman had backed into a wall, while his comrades formed a semicircle before her. "Is this an intentional certainty?" she asked. The men only laughed. "She's speaking gibberish!" said one. "What's certain is that you will end up in hospital for a week, if we had one!" commented another. "I so want to stick it into you," said Bill. "But you heard the boss." They closed in.

The woman flashed into action. Twisting suddenly, she rushed Bill on the far left. Bill swung a fist at her, but she dodged, pivoted, and sank a leg deep into his groin. In another flash, she had moved behind Bill and struck a brutal blow to the back of his neck. Bill somehow managed to keep his footing, but when the woman chopped again, he collapsed. The woman leapt on him, driving both feet mercilessly into Bill's back. Bill spurted blood and was still.

Five of the remaining six men hesitated, but the last grabbed her from behind, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other around her neck. Unflinching, the woman drove an elbow into his stomach and stamped down hard on his foot. He grimaced, but held on. The other five men soon joined the fray. One jabbed at her stomach, but restricted as she was she somehow dodged the blow. Another landed a kick to her legs. It will soon be over, thought Walker. You have to stay mobile or die. But in the next heartbeat she slammed a fist into the groin of the man holding her while simultaneously snapping her head back, catching his nose with a sickening crunch. His grip loosened, she wrenched free, and a kick to his buttocks sent him sprawling.

The dance continued, its steps faster than Walker could make out. Punches were thrown and blocked, men fell and got up, while the woman swivelled, a flurry of blows. They were seven against one. He saw one man manage to grab the woman's left wrist, but instead of pulling away she butted her head into him while smashing his windpipe with her right. The man spat blood and backed off, stumbling. Walker could not help but notice the woman was fighting to kill. She kicked viciously at another man's knee, and he collapsed, his leg bent unnaturally. Bill still hadn't moved. Six, thought Walker. Still the man staggered to his feet and launched himself clumsily at the woman, trying to grab and pin her through sheer force of momentum, but the woman sidestepped easily even as yet another man kicked at her. One man was struck so hard he slammed into Walker, dazing Walker once more. The woman moved and repositioned with supreme confidence, attacking before she could be surrounded, always keeping her foes in front of her. One by one they fell, and there was one less flank to guard.