That is like calling Tree to borrow his car!!!
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Nordic Peril: The Sequel to Gone Missing in Sweden
- Thread starter Barbaria1
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Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Chapter 18. Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden, Wednesday, 21 January, 16:27.
“Well, hello Björklund! To what do I owe the pleasure?” boomed the voice of the SÄPO Chief, Ragnar ‘Bulldozer’ Olsson, through the speaker phone.
“Good afternoon, Ragnar. I’m calling because I have a situation here for which I could use your help.”
“What? You have a major crime wave in Uppsala you can’t handle? Heavens! Students out of control again? Too many pickpockets and drunks on the streets?”
“Very funny.” responded the Chief, with a wink towards Hansson, who was listening in.
“Tell me about your situation.”
Choosing his words carefully, the Chief launched into a detailed but succinct accounting of his and Hansson’s concerns about what might be happening up in Sollefteå.
“That’s quite interesting,” responded Olsson when the Chief had finished. “I may be able to add something of interest to that, but give me a minute to think about it first … because what I might say could possibly be a breach of trust at an international level.”
A dramatic silence lasting considerably more than a minute followed, during which all that could be heard was the rhythmic drumming of Bulldozer’s finger tips upon his desktop.
Hansson winked at the Chief, and twirled his index finger around just outside of his ear.
The Chief grinned.
“Okay,” said Bulldozer at last. “What I’m going to relate to you is in strictest confidence,” the depth and resonant tone of his voice telegraphing theatrically the gravity of what he was about to divulge.
“Before you go any further, Ragnar, I need to inform you that my colleague, Detective Sergeant Bertll Hansson, is here with me listening in.”
“Huh … oh … good of you to let me know, Lennart … Hansson, you say. Okay. That’s fine. Hansson’s a good man. Just so long as you don’t have that country bumpkin, Fintväder, with you.”
“No, there’s just the two of us. Go ahead.”
“Right. Funny you should mention Sollefteå, because early this morning I received a call from an American who identified himself as ‘Pecos Bill’ Johnson … interesting name, what? He turned out to be a freelancer working for the UN Council for Human Rights in Geneva who was assigned to transporting a North Korean defector up to Sollefteå to be interviewed there by Åke Persson. Persson, as you already know, is investigating human rights abuses perpetrated by the North Koreans. Johnson was marooned with his charge at Arlanda, due to the approaching storm, and feeling desperate enough to break protocol and call on me for assistance. Given the sensitivity of Johnson’s mission, and the security risks he faced in not getting to his destination, I arranged for an Air Force helicopter to get him and his charge up to Sollefteå ahead of the storm. The Air Force has since informed me that Johnson and an unnamed Korean woman were successfully transported to Persson’s country estate near Sollefteå at … um … let me check … yes … at precisely 11:31 this morning.”
“That’s very helpful, Ragnar. It certainly fills in some blanks.”
“Glad to be of assistance. We really ought to work closely together more often.”
“Yes, we ought to. Now, can you tell us anything about those tattoos?”
“Not offhand, but I can get a team of analysts here at SÄPO to look into it.”
“That would be appreciated. Any chance you could get the Air Force to fly Bertil and me into Sollefteå?”
“No, for two reasons. One … as you might expect, everything is grounded until the storm blows itself out. And two … I don’t believe Sollefteå falls under your jurisdiction.”
“Both true …. but …”
“Say no more Björklund, There’s always a way, and the way forward is to first have airlift capacity ready as soon as the storm lifts … which I will immediately arrange … and the second is to place yourself and Bertil Hansson under my direct command.”
Hansson shook his head vehemently to signal ‘don’t do it’.
“Agreed,” replied the Chief, shrugging his shoulders resignedly.
“Excellent! Be ready! I’ll be giving you only an hour’s advance notice.”
*****************************
Cellar of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 16:55.
Anna-Lisa let out an anguished howl as Åke tightened the stress on her joints by an additional two notches. She’d been stretched out on the rack for nearly a quarter of an hour. Her nude body was bathed in sweat, her back slightly arched, her pale breasts mounding and jiggling about as she struggled.
Getting her up onto the rack had been a struggle, as the girl fought like a tiger. It had taken the combined efforts of all five of her tormentors to strip her naked, place her on the rack and secure her ankles and wrists. Åke had suffered a bloody nose, Bill was nursing a bitten ear, and at one point Barbara had been kicked in the stomach and had had the wind knocked out of her.
Nonetheless, with Min-Ji, assisted by Gun, applying their professional interrogative talents, along with the persuasiveness of a 16th century torture rack, real progress was being made.
They had learned that Anna-Lisa’s real name was Marina. That she was born in Estonia, of Russian parents. That she had been trained to be a Russian agent assigned to reside and perform acts of espionage in the Nordic countries. But, having failed to pass the rigorous selection process at the completion of her training, she had been dismissed and had subsequently drifted off into freelance work … which had led her, unfortunately, to her present situation …stretched out nearly to the limit on the torture rack in Åke’s cellar.
She had steadfastly refused, however, to divulge anything about who she was working for, or to provide any insight on the meaning of the tattoo behind her left ear.
Min-Ji and Gun were both of the opinion that, while the early part of her story was probably true enough, there was far more to her relationship with her present employer and the circumstances of her presence in Åke’s household … that had yet to be wrung from her.
“Alright, we’re going to ask you again Marina, what is the name of the organization you work for and, even more importantly, what is their likely next move once they’ve learned that you have failed in your mission to kill Colonel Chang, which I fully suspect they must have surmised by now?” demanded Gun.
“I don’t know. I just do as I am told.”
“We don’t believe that’s true,” said Min-Ji softly.
“It’s true. I’ve told you everything. I was sent here to observe and report, and when the storm hit, I was ordered to kill.”
“Ratchet the strain up a couple more notches, if you would, please, Åke,” replied Gun. “And, Bill. Tell me. How good are you at handling a whip?”
“Silly question to ask a Texas boy from Pecos, Detective. I was nearly born with one in my hand and can take off a rattlesnake’s head from twenty paces. Where would you like me to lay one on her? Across her bare tits? Aim for her nips?”
“For starters, yes.”
TBC
“Well, hello Björklund! To what do I owe the pleasure?” boomed the voice of the SÄPO Chief, Ragnar ‘Bulldozer’ Olsson, through the speaker phone.
“Good afternoon, Ragnar. I’m calling because I have a situation here for which I could use your help.”
“What? You have a major crime wave in Uppsala you can’t handle? Heavens! Students out of control again? Too many pickpockets and drunks on the streets?”
“Very funny.” responded the Chief, with a wink towards Hansson, who was listening in.
“Tell me about your situation.”
Choosing his words carefully, the Chief launched into a detailed but succinct accounting of his and Hansson’s concerns about what might be happening up in Sollefteå.
“That’s quite interesting,” responded Olsson when the Chief had finished. “I may be able to add something of interest to that, but give me a minute to think about it first … because what I might say could possibly be a breach of trust at an international level.”
A dramatic silence lasting considerably more than a minute followed, during which all that could be heard was the rhythmic drumming of Bulldozer’s finger tips upon his desktop.
Hansson winked at the Chief, and twirled his index finger around just outside of his ear.
The Chief grinned.
“Okay,” said Bulldozer at last. “What I’m going to relate to you is in strictest confidence,” the depth and resonant tone of his voice telegraphing theatrically the gravity of what he was about to divulge.
“Before you go any further, Ragnar, I need to inform you that my colleague, Detective Sergeant Bertll Hansson, is here with me listening in.”
“Huh … oh … good of you to let me know, Lennart … Hansson, you say. Okay. That’s fine. Hansson’s a good man. Just so long as you don’t have that country bumpkin, Fintväder, with you.”
“No, there’s just the two of us. Go ahead.”
“Right. Funny you should mention Sollefteå, because early this morning I received a call from an American who identified himself as ‘Pecos Bill’ Johnson … interesting name, what? He turned out to be a freelancer working for the UN Council for Human Rights in Geneva who was assigned to transporting a North Korean defector up to Sollefteå to be interviewed there by Åke Persson. Persson, as you already know, is investigating human rights abuses perpetrated by the North Koreans. Johnson was marooned with his charge at Arlanda, due to the approaching storm, and feeling desperate enough to break protocol and call on me for assistance. Given the sensitivity of Johnson’s mission, and the security risks he faced in not getting to his destination, I arranged for an Air Force helicopter to get him and his charge up to Sollefteå ahead of the storm. The Air Force has since informed me that Johnson and an unnamed Korean woman were successfully transported to Persson’s country estate near Sollefteå at … um … let me check … yes … at precisely 11:31 this morning.”
“That’s very helpful, Ragnar. It certainly fills in some blanks.”
“Glad to be of assistance. We really ought to work closely together more often.”
“Yes, we ought to. Now, can you tell us anything about those tattoos?”
“Not offhand, but I can get a team of analysts here at SÄPO to look into it.”
“That would be appreciated. Any chance you could get the Air Force to fly Bertil and me into Sollefteå?”
“No, for two reasons. One … as you might expect, everything is grounded until the storm blows itself out. And two … I don’t believe Sollefteå falls under your jurisdiction.”
“Both true …. but …”
“Say no more Björklund, There’s always a way, and the way forward is to first have airlift capacity ready as soon as the storm lifts … which I will immediately arrange … and the second is to place yourself and Bertil Hansson under my direct command.”
Hansson shook his head vehemently to signal ‘don’t do it’.
“Agreed,” replied the Chief, shrugging his shoulders resignedly.
“Excellent! Be ready! I’ll be giving you only an hour’s advance notice.”
*****************************
Cellar of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 16:55.
Anna-Lisa let out an anguished howl as Åke tightened the stress on her joints by an additional two notches. She’d been stretched out on the rack for nearly a quarter of an hour. Her nude body was bathed in sweat, her back slightly arched, her pale breasts mounding and jiggling about as she struggled.
Getting her up onto the rack had been a struggle, as the girl fought like a tiger. It had taken the combined efforts of all five of her tormentors to strip her naked, place her on the rack and secure her ankles and wrists. Åke had suffered a bloody nose, Bill was nursing a bitten ear, and at one point Barbara had been kicked in the stomach and had had the wind knocked out of her.
Nonetheless, with Min-Ji, assisted by Gun, applying their professional interrogative talents, along with the persuasiveness of a 16th century torture rack, real progress was being made.
They had learned that Anna-Lisa’s real name was Marina. That she was born in Estonia, of Russian parents. That she had been trained to be a Russian agent assigned to reside and perform acts of espionage in the Nordic countries. But, having failed to pass the rigorous selection process at the completion of her training, she had been dismissed and had subsequently drifted off into freelance work … which had led her, unfortunately, to her present situation …stretched out nearly to the limit on the torture rack in Åke’s cellar.
She had steadfastly refused, however, to divulge anything about who she was working for, or to provide any insight on the meaning of the tattoo behind her left ear.
Min-Ji and Gun were both of the opinion that, while the early part of her story was probably true enough, there was far more to her relationship with her present employer and the circumstances of her presence in Åke’s household … that had yet to be wrung from her.
“Alright, we’re going to ask you again Marina, what is the name of the organization you work for and, even more importantly, what is their likely next move once they’ve learned that you have failed in your mission to kill Colonel Chang, which I fully suspect they must have surmised by now?” demanded Gun.
“I don’t know. I just do as I am told.”
“We don’t believe that’s true,” said Min-Ji softly.
“It’s true. I’ve told you everything. I was sent here to observe and report, and when the storm hit, I was ordered to kill.”
“Ratchet the strain up a couple more notches, if you would, please, Åke,” replied Gun. “And, Bill. Tell me. How good are you at handling a whip?”
“Silly question to ask a Texas boy from Pecos, Detective. I was nearly born with one in my hand and can take off a rattlesnake’s head from twenty paces. Where would you like me to lay one on her? Across her bare tits? Aim for her nips?”
“For starters, yes.”
TBC
“I’ve blabbermouthed this to no more than 20 people”
Cue ROTJ:- It’s a trap!!!
Noooooo! Death Star dead ahead!!
Sounds like a nice beginning
Now what more could a red-blooded slav hope for, with historical precedence!!
Well, it’s high time we saw generous use of the whip!
My only question is how to get
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Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Bloody good job they didn't have given how they referred to him
You can almost feel Bill's enthusiasm through those words ...
I have to share @Loinclothslave's point though about how we get some/all/any of the other three deliciously delightful girls involved on the receiving end of this 'opportunity' ...
Another great piece Barb!
Mobile phone?
Gun’s call to Hanson?
The bug in Gun’s underwear?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
The urgency of the situation is clear now!
Chapter 19. Cellar of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 19:02.
After more than two hours of incremental escalations of stretched agony on the rack, multiple whip-lashings and the application of pincers to her nipples and other sensitive female parts, Marina/Anna-Lisa had begun to break and offer up real answers in response to Gun and Min-Jo’s relentless questioning.
She had admitted to being an operative of a secret international Asian organization … an operative of a special-ops unit within the organization that carried out acts, around the world, of surveillance, intimidation, abduction, and murder that furthered the interests of the organization. At the same time she had sought to portray herself as only a lowly foot-soldier who did as she was told.
She claimed to have been ordered to infiltrate Åke Persson’s household, posing as a domestic worker from Finland … a role she had perfected on previous assignments. More specifically, she was instructed to be on the lookout for a North Korean woman, thought by the organization to likely turn up at Persson’s home, and to report back to the organization by text everything that was happening. She had also been given the green light to kill, if so ordered.
She’d also confirmed that the small tattoo behind her left ear of a multi-headed dragon clutching the globe, signified membership in the organization, which she identified simply as ‘The Syndicate’.
That last revelation had set off alarm bells in Barbara’s head, as she remembered well her father speaking of his antagonistic business maneuverings in competition to an organization by that name … maneuverings that had fomented the attempt to abduct her back in May.
It also confirmed in Gun’s mind her suspicion that the events of last spring were closely linked to what was now happening in Sollefteå.
But even more alarming, in an immediate sense, had been Marina’s admission that a Syndicate special-ops team was on its way to Sollefteå and could arrive at any moment. As best Marina knew, it was only the winter storm that was keeping them at bay. Marina was all but certain that they must be nearby.
While everyone gathered around the rack, with the nude Marina still stretched out upon it, was digesting these revelations, Barbara had gone upstairs to rustle up some refreshments, and was now returning with a tray of small sandwiches, or ‘smörgåsar’, that she had found in the kitchen refrigerator.
“Eat up everyone,” she announced cheerily as she laid the tray down at the foot of the rack.“Oh, and why don’t we loosen Marina’s bonds, and offer her some relief. I was, as you all know, never enthusiastic about putting her on the rack in the first place … having once experienced out of curiosity what it’s like myself. Although I, at least, escaped Bill’s whip hand and those awful pincers! In any case, we’ve learned from poor Marina what we needed to know, Now let’s reclaim our humane side, shall we.?”
“Spoken like a true bleeding heart liberal,” laughed Bill.
“But, Barbara’s quite right,” agreed Åke solemnly, as he released the ratchet mechanism that delivered such painful stress to Marina’s joints.
“Oh, and I almost forgot,” continued Barbara, reaching for the back pocket of the jeans she was wearing, “I grabbed my iPhone while I was upstairs. Here, Gun … why don’t you try placing that call to Hansson that you spoke of earlier?”
“Right, Babs! With everything that’s happened, I’d completely forgotten. What’s the code to unlock your phone?”
********************
Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden, Wednesday, 21 January, 19:18.
Having decided to wait out both the storm and Bulldozer’s summons in Björklund’s office, Hansson and the Chief were pouring themselves another drink, and Hansson was thinking of sending his intern, Annika, whom he had not sent home for the day yet, out for food … when his cell phone rang.
Fishing it out of his pocket, he stared at the screen for a moment, did not recognize the caller’s number and was about to reject the call when he suddenly decided better of it and answered the call instead.
“Hansson,” he said softly into the phone.
“Bertil! It’s me … Gun! I’m calling you on Barbara’s phone.”
“Okay. Got it. So glad to hear from you, Gun! The Chief is here with me. We’re in his office and we’ve been worried sick about you. What the fuck is going on up there in Sollefteå? Are you and Barbara alright? Did you get the tattoo pics I texted you?”
“Yes, we’re alright … at least for the moment. But we were nearly murdered a few hours ago by a young woman working for the ‘Syndicate’ … the same organization that tried to abduct Babs last fall.”
“And those tattoos tie them into this?”
“Yes, but even more so, we’ve managed to thwart and capture our intended killer … a young woman posing as a domestic servant here at Åke Persson’s place. We’ve gotten her to talk, although it’s taken time and some rather unorthodox means of persuasion. And the picture is pretty clear now. But also fucking frightening, as she claims a special-ops group is enroute to Sollefteå as we speak to finish the job she failed to accomplish.”
“So, you’ve ‘turned’ her, so to speak?”
“Well, it was Åke who did the turning of the wheel, but … yeah.”
Hansson and the Chief exchanged puzzled looks.
“Look Gun … the Chief and I … we’re coming. We’ve been in touch with Bulldozer Olsson, and he’s arranged transport … soon as the weather permits.”
“Oh no! Remember last fall. Do you really need his help?”
“If we want to get there quickly, we do!”
“Alright then. Keep in touch. You can reach me on this phone.”
“How well armed are you? Those Syndicate goons last fall were packing a lot of firepower as I recall.”
“We have Bill Johnson’s handgun, and the weapon our captive tried to kill us with … a collapsible assault weapon. But that’s it. Åke doesn’t believe in owning firearms. And I didn’t bring anything along myself.”
“Okay, help is on the way soon as …”
“Yeah, I know … come quickly … and thanks, Bertil.”
TBC
After more than two hours of incremental escalations of stretched agony on the rack, multiple whip-lashings and the application of pincers to her nipples and other sensitive female parts, Marina/Anna-Lisa had begun to break and offer up real answers in response to Gun and Min-Jo’s relentless questioning.
She had admitted to being an operative of a secret international Asian organization … an operative of a special-ops unit within the organization that carried out acts, around the world, of surveillance, intimidation, abduction, and murder that furthered the interests of the organization. At the same time she had sought to portray herself as only a lowly foot-soldier who did as she was told.
She claimed to have been ordered to infiltrate Åke Persson’s household, posing as a domestic worker from Finland … a role she had perfected on previous assignments. More specifically, she was instructed to be on the lookout for a North Korean woman, thought by the organization to likely turn up at Persson’s home, and to report back to the organization by text everything that was happening. She had also been given the green light to kill, if so ordered.
She’d also confirmed that the small tattoo behind her left ear of a multi-headed dragon clutching the globe, signified membership in the organization, which she identified simply as ‘The Syndicate’.
That last revelation had set off alarm bells in Barbara’s head, as she remembered well her father speaking of his antagonistic business maneuverings in competition to an organization by that name … maneuverings that had fomented the attempt to abduct her back in May.
It also confirmed in Gun’s mind her suspicion that the events of last spring were closely linked to what was now happening in Sollefteå.
But even more alarming, in an immediate sense, had been Marina’s admission that a Syndicate special-ops team was on its way to Sollefteå and could arrive at any moment. As best Marina knew, it was only the winter storm that was keeping them at bay. Marina was all but certain that they must be nearby.
While everyone gathered around the rack, with the nude Marina still stretched out upon it, was digesting these revelations, Barbara had gone upstairs to rustle up some refreshments, and was now returning with a tray of small sandwiches, or ‘smörgåsar’, that she had found in the kitchen refrigerator.
“Eat up everyone,” she announced cheerily as she laid the tray down at the foot of the rack.“Oh, and why don’t we loosen Marina’s bonds, and offer her some relief. I was, as you all know, never enthusiastic about putting her on the rack in the first place … having once experienced out of curiosity what it’s like myself. Although I, at least, escaped Bill’s whip hand and those awful pincers! In any case, we’ve learned from poor Marina what we needed to know, Now let’s reclaim our humane side, shall we.?”
“Spoken like a true bleeding heart liberal,” laughed Bill.
“But, Barbara’s quite right,” agreed Åke solemnly, as he released the ratchet mechanism that delivered such painful stress to Marina’s joints.
“Oh, and I almost forgot,” continued Barbara, reaching for the back pocket of the jeans she was wearing, “I grabbed my iPhone while I was upstairs. Here, Gun … why don’t you try placing that call to Hansson that you spoke of earlier?”
“Right, Babs! With everything that’s happened, I’d completely forgotten. What’s the code to unlock your phone?”
********************
Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden, Wednesday, 21 January, 19:18.
Having decided to wait out both the storm and Bulldozer’s summons in Björklund’s office, Hansson and the Chief were pouring themselves another drink, and Hansson was thinking of sending his intern, Annika, whom he had not sent home for the day yet, out for food … when his cell phone rang.
Fishing it out of his pocket, he stared at the screen for a moment, did not recognize the caller’s number and was about to reject the call when he suddenly decided better of it and answered the call instead.
“Hansson,” he said softly into the phone.
“Bertil! It’s me … Gun! I’m calling you on Barbara’s phone.”
“Okay. Got it. So glad to hear from you, Gun! The Chief is here with me. We’re in his office and we’ve been worried sick about you. What the fuck is going on up there in Sollefteå? Are you and Barbara alright? Did you get the tattoo pics I texted you?”
“Yes, we’re alright … at least for the moment. But we were nearly murdered a few hours ago by a young woman working for the ‘Syndicate’ … the same organization that tried to abduct Babs last fall.”
“And those tattoos tie them into this?”
“Yes, but even more so, we’ve managed to thwart and capture our intended killer … a young woman posing as a domestic servant here at Åke Persson’s place. We’ve gotten her to talk, although it’s taken time and some rather unorthodox means of persuasion. And the picture is pretty clear now. But also fucking frightening, as she claims a special-ops group is enroute to Sollefteå as we speak to finish the job she failed to accomplish.”
“So, you’ve ‘turned’ her, so to speak?”
“Well, it was Åke who did the turning of the wheel, but … yeah.”
Hansson and the Chief exchanged puzzled looks.
“Look Gun … the Chief and I … we’re coming. We’ve been in touch with Bulldozer Olsson, and he’s arranged transport … soon as the weather permits.”
“Oh no! Remember last fall. Do you really need his help?”
“If we want to get there quickly, we do!”
“Alright then. Keep in touch. You can reach me on this phone.”
“How well armed are you? Those Syndicate goons last fall were packing a lot of firepower as I recall.”
“We have Bill Johnson’s handgun, and the weapon our captive tried to kill us with … a collapsible assault weapon. But that’s it. Åke doesn’t believe in owning firearms. And I didn’t bring anything along myself.”
“Okay, help is on the way soon as …”
“Yeah, I know … come quickly … and thanks, Bertil.”
TBC
Bleeding heart liberal or no, that bitch tried to kill you all, politeness is NOT called for yet. Leave her firmly racked, assuming you’re too squeamish to kill her, this is a siege situation, polity does NOT apply!
I mean if you want to be kind, then take her out to the whipping post and make use of those lonely, ice cold, steely manacles…
Ah, Gun, the most sensible voice of reason
Bloody hell, the Achilles heel of lesbian lust once again raising its influence, don’t think with your clit, Gun, you’ll wind up just like Babs…
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I should think she bloody well did ... how I'd like to have witnessed one or two of Bill's violent strokes!
How very thoughtful. Thought a full stomach might bolster Bill's appetite to dish out a little more punishment I didn't see them inviting their captive to the party ...
What happens next?
- will they get anything else out of Marina?
- will the syndicate arrive and make use of the outside whipping post
- will bulldozer and the Swedish cavalry save the day
Can't wait to find out!
M
montycrusto
Guest
That’s odd. Whenever I shout “Go upstairs and make me a sammich, woman!”, Barb just says “Blaaaahhh” (and no sammich is forthcoming)
xso
Tribune
Reflections: a) They really made quality products back then! Products of torture that still can produce amazing results quickly! It did not take long to get important info from AL aka Marina.
b) I am impressed by that Olsson guy, he arranges solutions!
c) Whips-Tits-Nips ........ very poetic!
d) Great chapter!
xso
Tribune
Great chapter! Assistance is soon on its way, thanks to that Olsson guy! Problem: In the short perspective you are outgunned, the syndicate is only 10 km away.......Anything in the torture chamber that is usable? A spear, a cross bow?
A neighbour that can help? Almost everyone in that area owns a rifle, often 5 or 6.........
I bet you always ask lacking the essential elements of operational rack and whip? Rookie mistake!That’s odd. Whenever I shout “Go upstairs and make me a sammich, woman!”, Barb just says “Blaaaahhh” (and no sammich is forthcoming)
M
montycrusto
Guest
It’s probably for the best. I mean, would you trust Barb with a bread-knife?
If I was there? She’d have to figure out how to get out of the locked shackles first! I can maker sandwiches if worst comes to worstIt’s probably for the best. I mean, would you trust Barb with a bread-knife?
