Thread: A Game of Cat and Mouse [AlluringEnigma x Iron and Wine]

The resentment toward her was palpable. Crystal had sent a powerful message to the Citys criminal underworld. Their response was unlike anything shed prepared for. Despite her many hours of training at the gym, even three of the thugs was too much for her. Her batons clattered helplessly on the old parking lots asphalt. Though shed broken one of the thugs ribs, hed still managed to stand with a wince, watching with satisfaction as his comrade laid a series of four blows into Crystals little stomach and chest. The wind was knocked out of her. The one who shed busted the ribs of hissed through his pain, Looks like all that fight training and you never learned how to take a punch from a real man! His voice was soon swallowed by the sea of jeering as Crystal was dragged over to the massive bald criminal in a suit watching her. Figures of the thugs filtered through the headlights, backlit as they crossed the beams of the cars parked around her in a circle like hungry wolves. As he stared down at her, the criminal whose name she didnt even know and whose features were still mostly washed out due to the backlighting of the high beams, clenched his jaw. Look at you, he said derisively. You really believe youre have a purpose, dont you? I can see that fire in your belly. That commitment towhat? Save your city? Ive seen your type before, thinking that salvation comes at the end of a hockey stick or a billy club, that maybe you can just beat out the filth from this city like beating out an old rug. Having finished rolling up his sleeves, revealing large tree root-like forearms criss-crossed with tattoows, the criminal leaned squatted down so he was no longer washed out by the headlights, his groin just two feet from her face, bulging against his expensive charcoal grey slacks. His rough hand gripped the underside of Baillies chin, finger grazing her throat, But you cant. Whether you try to force your will on the City with your littlebatons he sneered the word, as if even her choice of weaponry made her unworthy, or go through the front door of city hall with a smile on that pretty platinum blonde face. Do you know why? Do you know why youre doomed to fail? His voice was so deep, so close to her, it nearly resonated in her chest like bass at a concert. Mr. Wallace Dalmere squinted his eyes down at her. His face was brooding and angular like the rest of him, only a meatiness to his jaw hinting at his brute strength which was so visible as his frame loomed over Baillie. Even the sensation of his hand on her chin gave the impression he could crush her windpipe single-handedly. Ill tell you why, what you vigilantes cant understand. Its because you dont know what true power is. True power doesnt stop where the edge of my hand stop, that pressure on your pulse, that physical sensation separating us, his hand gripped her throat, slowly hauling Baillies bruised body to her feet. True power resides in the ability to influence hearts and minds, for a man to exert his will upon the world and reshape it in his image. You didnt understand that in asking for this meeting, but I assure you, Crystal, after tonight all will be made clear. His words had a deadly ring of finality as he lifted her up so only her toes kept balance on the ground, his one thick hand wrapped around her neck. Holding out his hand he received a switch blade from one of his men, handling it with surprising dexterity as he opened it and felt the heft of the double-sided blade before slipping it under the front of her black sports bra top, the metal cool against her skin underneath. A chorus of excited jeering went through the ranks of the thugs whod just watched her get beaten to the ground. True power, you see, is a much subtler thing, something hidden in the shadows, sequestered beneath layers of truth. The blade caught against the fabric and he began pulling it taut against the knife until the sound of it being torn away was painfully audible to her ears. Do you want to see our true power, little girl? Time seemed to slow down and then he sliced downward, opening the the front of her sports bra before letting her feet return to the ground and order two thugs to hold her arms behind her back. Casting her ruined top to the ground, the nameless criminal mastermind took two steps away to study her breasts. A third thug to her left had a cattle prod in hand, his finger twitching along the trigger button. Put her on the hood, he intoned in hateful tone, as if a lord proclaiming her fate. I want to watch this little cunt squeal. Then the thugs were dragging her toward the rusted hood of an old Cadillac, several of them unzipping their jeans or gripping their crotches crudely. Half of them had hand-cuffs, duct tape, or black rope in hand. And the cameras hed brought were still running.