Journey IV

[Sprayman]

Journey IV Introduction

OOC – As in the earlier Journey Role Play scenarios, Sprayman will be the primary male character. The female character will be played by HannaC.

IC

Another late night riding the London tube. I’m hunting again, looking for fresh meat for the playroom. In fact I’ve been hunting for five nights without success. The young women of London seem to ride the night trains in packs of four or more and I am looking for a single. One girl at a time is my plan. Two or more are simply too much to handle.

The few single women I have seen this week are all too old or just plain ugly and that simply won’t do. My catch must be fairly young, no more than late 20’s, and pretty. Old and ugly don’t sell well and that is the name of the game. My associates and I are the primary procurers for the Joy Beach sex resort and training school. Joy Beach has high standards and a near spotless reputation to uphold.

This is the last train tonight. I will get off, go to my van at the usual station, and return tomorrow night to try again. Sooner or later, I will find what I’m looking for. I always do. One last sweep through the carriages and I will call it a night and return to my rented flat for some food and sleep. As usual, I am riding in the last carriage. I move forward from the empty car through the connecting door. The next carriage is populated by two old men headed home after their evening shift at some factory. They are deeply engrossed in the sports page as I pass by them and do not even look up. I keep my eyes to the side away from them as I pass in any case. No need to let them get a good look at my face.

The third carriage appears empty at first glance but as I walk up the aisle, I spot a head of dark blond hair on a seat near the main door. Perhaps my luck has changed because as I approach, I see the head and shoulders of a young woman staring out the window into the dark tunnel. Her head is resting to the seatback and she may be asleep. I move slowly toward her as my hand finds the badge case in the oversized pocket of my canvas overcoat. The official looking badge inside has helped me many times in the past. My other hand finds and positions the can of Chemical Mace in my other pocket. I don’t want to use it unless things get out of hand. My stun gun is also in the same pocket as the Mace and my seven inch flick knife is with the badge case under my right hand. The extra deep pockets hide many tools of my trade.

I can see the reflection of her face in the window and it seems her eyes are closed. Her features are relaxed and serene. That is about to change!

 “Excuse me Miss. May I have a word with you…”

[HannaC]

It had been a big day. I hate catching the night train but I had let the work pile up and at the very last minute the boss had wanted the case files brought up to date so that he could be in court bright and early on Monday morning.  I had thought I had lots of time to get all of the material for the Johnston case together but because of the bloody government putting more Magistrates in to the family law court the schedule had been tightened and a number of cases brought forward.


“Uh!” I mumbled as a voice woke me from the little nap I was having. I saw some sort of badge being flashed in front of my face and I thought it must have been the railway inspector checking tickets.

“I have it here some place,” I mumbled still a little brain dead after relaxing from my big day.  The sound of the train always made me feel sleepy. I fished in my handbag for my ticket and finding the stub I handed it to him.

Now a little more awake I giggled. “has any one told you, you look like that American TV detective, what’s his name, Colombo, that’s it in that old coat of yours. Then I took a closer look “Where is your uniformed?” I asked with a little apprehension in my voice

[Sprayman]

“I’m sorry Miss but I’m not the conductor. I am Constable Harp of the Transit Authority Police and I’m not in uniform because I’m off duty. You match the description of a woman we have been looking for regarding several cases of malicious mischief and damage to carriages on this line. I will need to see your identification and determine where you were at 6:20 this evening when the latest report was made. We have had far too much vandalism recently and it has to stop!”

I can see the confusion and perhaps the beginning of concern in her eyes as I speak. My years in the military give me a commanding presence and demeanor and very few women will argue with me. In fact, not many men will either. The woman is just what I’ve been looking for tonight. Pretty, petite, and apparently about 22 or 23 years old. She is dressed for the office, in a dark red skirt and jacket over a well filled out white blouse. Very nice indeed!

She digs back into her purse, looking for her identification, and I see an opportunity to take complete control of the situation.

“Stop what you are doing Miss, and remove your hand slowly from the purse. I want to see your fingers open and your hand empty as you remove it!”

I have raised the volume of my voice slightly and dropped the timbre to a full bass. My voice is a well trained weapon and I use it often. As I speak I drop the badge case into my coat pocket and palm the flick knife. I watch the color drain from her face as her hand is slowly removed from the purse. She obeys every part of my command!

“Slowly hand me the purse Miss. I believe I saw what looked like a weapon in it.”

Reluctantly she hands me her purse. I see fear, some confusion, and the beginning of anger in her eyes now. I put her purse on the seat across from her and reach in with my closed right hand while I stare into her eyes. She is watching my face, so never notices that my hand is closed and concealing the knife in its palm. After seeming to feel around in the purse for a few seconds I remove my hand, holding the flick knife in plain view.

“Well Miss what do we have here? Spring knives are a deadly weapon under British law.” As I speak, I depress the button on the knife handle and the razor sharp seven inch blade flashes in the carriage lights as it snaps open.

“I’m sorry Miss, but I’m going to insist that you come with me. Carrying a concealed weapon is a serious offence and you will be detained until you give a good explanation to the magistrate.”

[HannaC]

I was fully awake now,  the man standing over me announced he was from the Transit Authority.

“I’m sorry I don’t understand I work for a law firm in the city and I have been at work since nine o’clock this morning.”  I had to admit I was intimidated and more than a little afraid. When he demanded my bag in a deep and somewhat treating voice I could do nothing else but comply.  Meekly I handed it to him a little embarrassed with what he might find in the bag. Since

From the age of fifteen I had always carried a condom in my bag or purse, not the same one of course, I replaced them regularly, but even though I was still a virgin I had fallen into the habit of having a packet of Ansell assorted condoms in its own separate pocket of my bag. I don’t know why I thought of it then but suddenly I wondered what assorted meant, I always thought it was the size but it could be something else I guessed. I came out of my mental wondering rather suddenly when I saw what the man held in his rather large fist.

“But.. but that’s not mine,” I stammered, my eyes wide and my hands clenched a little tighter.  When he had withdrawn his hand from my bag with an accusatory look on his face I saw the rather nasty weapon he was clutching.

I don’t carry a knife, not even a plastic one. I had no need at all as the staffroom was well supplied with cutlery. In fact I hated any knife more sinister than a steak knife. I saw the mans thumb move slightly and a dull click released the sharp shiny blade. When the blade sprang from its protective scabbard I flinched. 

There was something in the way that the towering bulk of the man addressed me that made me begin to tremble.  My legs felt like jelly and I needed to pee.  I was in serious danger of loosing control of my bladder. 

What was happening? This cant isn’t right… my brain tried to make sense of what was going on.  There is no way a knife could have gotten into my bag. I kept it in my locked desk draw during the day and besides I had never been more than two feet away from the desk all day. 

“No you have this all wrong I don’t own a knife, you have to understand.  I’m tired and I just want to get home, do I look like someone who goes about trains doing god knows what.” I looked up at the man now and I saw for the first time the coldness in his eyes. “Oh god…I’m really in trouble,” I tried to stand but my legs wouldn’t hold me.

[Sprayman]

My voice and the knife have the desired effect. The woman looks like she might faint but tries to stand. I would have stopped her but her own body did it first because her legs wouldn’t support her weight.

“Just remain seated Miss. If you do as you’re told, I won’t have to restrain you.”

In my coat pocket are a set of regulation police handcuffs but it seemed that they wouldn’t be needed. She is truly frightened now and her only reaction so far is to blather about her work and denying ownership of the knife. Pressing the button, I fold the blade back into the handle and drop it into my pocket again.

“I’ll just keep this safe until we get to the stationhouse,” I say.

The train slows for the next station and I hope the late hour will prevent us from unwanted company. I’m prepared to show the badge again if others enter the carriage and will ask them to use another car instead. I’ve bluffed my way through before and have no reason to think it won’t work again but it isn’t necessary as no passengers enter through the open doors. The train sits for a few more seconds and then the doors close and we are on our way again. The next station is mine and my plain white van is in its usual place on the street above. I had to disable the streetlight again. Roads Maintenance had finally replaced the lamp I broke some months ago. Another well thrown pebble darkened my parking place and I know it will be months more before the lamp is replaced again.

“Miss, my vehicle is parked at the next stop and there is a police station nearby. We will get off the train and I will turn you over to the duty matron at the stationhouse. The metropolitan police will hold you over until the magistrate sits tomorrow morning. Please do as you are told or I will have to use force. I’m sure you don’t want to be handcuffed and dragged into the police station so follow my orders and we won’t have to embarrass you in public.”

“When I tell you to stand, you will do so. I will take your arm and we will walk to my vehicle. Do not speak to anyone or attempt to flee. I don’t want to harm you but will use all necessary force to detain you. I have a great deal of training in unarmed combat and am much stronger than you as well. You are under arrest for suspicion of malicious mischief and possession of a concealed weapon. The local police will hold you over for the magistrate. Do you understand?”

[HannaC]

I just nodded when the man told me what he wanted me to do, I had hoped that some one, preferably more than one person, would have embarked at the last station but no one did. The city was slowing down at this time of night and there were very few people on the move. For the god knows how many times I cursed my bad luck in having to catch the late train.

I had been warned not to speak and not to attempt to escape. That was a joke, he had threatened me with harm if I did,  The guy was so much bigger than me so there was no way in the world I would chance being hurt. I hated pain. I screamed for five minutes when I cut my finger with the potato peeler for gods sake.

I had hardly heard what he said I was being charged with, or was it that I would be charged when he got me to the police station. Either way I was in trouble and destined for a night in some horrible police cell. That was another thing. I hated confined spaces, hated the feeling of being trapped with no place to see the world around me. Those places didn't have windows I thought and my misery grew.

The train glided to another stop and the man took my elbow and lifted more than guided me to my feet. The air doors hissed as they opened and we were suddenly on the platform.  I looked about more in desperation than hope but there would be no white knight. A man stood in the darkness at the end of  the platform struggling to read his paper in the dim light of the closest lamp. He didn't even look up as the train s doors hissed shut and it moved on to its final destination.

The escalator to the street was empty, we had been the only passengers to alight and the eerie feeling of emptiness of the tube station in the dead of night was scary.  I would have run up the escalator had I been on my own but the pressure of the mans hand on my elbow kept me to a normal walking pace. It was almost as if the man was looking for danger as his eyes constantly looked furtively at every dark corner and even behind us on several occasions.

The street at the station entrance was as quiet as the station. A late night party must have just finished and several happy couples with balloons walked hand in hand down the footpath on the other side of the street. There was no one else about. A fine misty drizzle of rain made the black pavement glisten as a lone cars headlights made reflections on the road as it passed.

The big man tightened his grip on my arm as he looked on way then the other before heading off down the street towards a white van parked some fifty yards along the road. It was dark here darker than normal I thought before I realized that the street light wasn't working. My fear and anxiety grew,  when I realized that we were heading for the van.

that's not a transit car I said,” and for the first time since we had left the train I held back.

[Sprayman]

“Miss, I told you I was off duty. That is my personal vehicle. Now come along and don’t make a fuss. I want to turn you over to the locals so I can get home tonight.”
As I spoke, I clamp down on her arm, almost dragging her toward my van. Luckily, I outweigh her by at least a factor of two and am much stronger than she as well. I also get the stun gun into my free hand, ready to put her down when we reach the van. The 50,000 volts will render her powerless for several minutes but causes no lasting harm beyond the two small burns where the current passes through her skin. They will fade in a day or two. The trusty stun gun has become one of my favorite tools as it takes away the ability to speak and makes voluntary movement  impossible for some minutes and then wears off with no aftereffect. Modern technology is a wonderful thing!
“Now Miss, regulations require that you ride in back, for my safety and your own. I won’t use the manacles if you promise to be good.”
So saying, I take the stun gun from my coat pocket and conceal it by my leg. We are in almost complete darkness as we move to the side door of the van. I put the girl against the side of the van and step behind her, blocking anyone’s view of what is about to happen. Quickly, I raise my right hand and press the contacts of the stunner to the side of her neck. Discharging the stored energy into her takes only a moment as I press her body against the van to hold het upright. If I didn’t do this, she would collapse and someone might notice. She goes limp and I open the side sliding door and lay her on the moving pad spread on the van floor.

It takes only a few seconds to place the waiting cuffs on her wrists and ankles. The other ends are already locked to cargo rings welded to the floor of the van. Then I take a black cotton hood from under the passenger seat and pull it over her head. Tying the drawstring under her chin takes only a second more and my prize is ready for transport. I move to the driver’s door, taking her purse along. Buckling my seatbelt, I start the van and pull out onto the empty street. I have about an hour’s drive to my farm south of the city in the English countryside near Lenham. It’s a drive I’ve made many times, taking the A20 motorway out of London where it becomes the M20 and continues south toward Folkestone on the English Channel south of Dover.
Looking through her purse, I see her name is Hanna and also find and disable her cell phone. Removing the battery isn’t enough anymore, so I also remove the SIM card. This way, the phone can’t be traced by GPS. I will dispose of the phone and battery along the motorway and burn the SIM card in my incinerator at the farm.
“Well Hanna, you should be recovering from the stunner about now. Let’s have a little chat as we drive, shall we...?”