Stories of Tie Up Games

Not just juveniles @Snozzberry. Justice is always even-handed.

Oh, if things are arranged sensibly, there shouldn't be too much damage before the Festival Hunt can be televised @blackbound. The punters get a bit upset if they don't get full value for their money.

OK, @blackbound, @Bradstick, @Caldo203, @harveygasson, @Jb99, @Red86, @Snozzberry, and @Wedgieboy69, let's put an end to the speculation. I hope you have all placed your bets.

Next chapter will be posted a soon as I have checked it.

I bet 1,000,000 VERMICIOUS KNIDS (VKs) on Rhys, but i would pay 10,000,000 VKs to own him outright, no questions ask about how I managed to get him.

🖐1,000,000🖐

The hunting reserve that was used for the festivals was much larger than the other two and was well equipped with cameras and microphones mounted on substantial poles. There was very little of the reserve that could not be filmed and recorded for broadcasting. The remote control of so many devices had cost vast amounts of money to install but that cost had already been recouped before the current Festival. Rather than the thick ground cover of the other reserves, this one was a complex constructed environment with many hiding places, much flowing water and considerable natural contouring. There was still plenty of ground cover but the reserve was tended in a manner that allowed the numerous cameras the best possible scope for coverage. The organisers had learnt a lot since the first Festival and it was no longer possible for the hunters to see where the cameras were pointing in order to use them to track the quarry.

The chained quarry walked clumsily for over half an hour before they heard the gate open. It was another hour’s walk before they reached the cage in the centre of the vast reserve. The metal blindfolds were removed and the other restraints were checked before the connecting chains were unlocked from the neck rings of the quarry. The escort left the cage and the gate was locked.

The four potential trophies warily examined their competition. Having already had his ribs broken once, Rhys was very aware of any untoward movement from his three fellow HC’s. He could see the tall, slender black criminal. The tallies and the substantial “7” hardly showed against the skin that tightly defined his musculature. He was the bookies’ favourite to survive. The prisoner whom Rhys had seen being punished during his repair sessions was slumped despondently against the bars. It was difficult to decide upon his probable fate: he would be an easy target but hunters with the skills of the auction winners were unlikely to be attracted to such a poor challenge. The broadcast of the hunt would do little to enhance their reputations if they didn’t try for either the black five-time survivor or the other adult. Rhys had seen him often during the previous few weeks. He was obviously going to attract the hunters’ attention along with the black outlaw. Most people seemed to think that he was so renowned for his previous survivals that he would draw most of the fire from Rhys and the slender criminal.

Very few quarry of Rhys’s age had ever earned five tallies and that made him some sort of celebrity. All the mothers pitied him so the bookies took good money on his survival; all the girls fancied him so even more money rolled in and all the jealous boyfriends put money on him not to survive. It all goes to prove the old proverb: you never see a bookie on a bike! Sensible money said that, with two excellent adult targets, the heat might be off Rhys until later on in the hunt.

The sound of the locks being released and the sight of the gates opening got the adrenaline flowing and four desperate criminals made for cover.





None of the quarry had been hunted over the Festival Reserve previously but they all had a considerable knowledge of it gained from TV broadcasts of the previous Festival Hunts. They also knew that it could last for four hours and that the first sound of gunfire wouldn’t signify the end of the hunt this time.

With a north and a south gate by which the hunters could gain admission to the reserve, all four targets headed in what they could, with some difficulty, recognise from previous broadcasts as easterly and westerly directions.

Rhys took off as quickly as he could in the westerly direction as the black criminal and the muscular one went in more or less the opposite direction, although not together. That left the other criminal, who had not yet fully recovered from his recent ordeal, making slower progress but Rhys was not in the least concerned about where he was going. As he ran, he became aware of the device that was once more constricting his private parts, he’d become used to exercising without it over the previous weeks and the pounding his legs were giving it now came almost as a completely new torment to him in spite of his previous experience thereof. He tried to support his privates with his fingers as he ran but he soon gave that up as a bad job as it seemed to cause him even more pain than he was trying to avoid.

Rhys thought he remembered seeing a hollow where he could take refuge but, if he could remember it, wouldn’t the hunters know of it as well? These two were both very experienced sportsmen, even the young, skinny guy who had come in from America specially to hunt over the Festival Reserve. Everyone, including Rhys, knew his reputation and thought that he was the more dangerous of the two.

It took over half an hour before Rhys found the hiding place he was looking for and even longer until he managed to use his severely restricted hands to drag some cut brushwood across to it to provide concealment. Unheard by Rhys, the TV commentators were in full flow: the hunters had started following whatever trails they could find. The older one was in close pursuit of what he hoped was the splendid black outlaw, at least that pursuit should keep him away from Rhys but the younger marksman, in his TV interview, had made no secret of the fact that he was literally gunning for Rhys. He specialised in collecting younger trophies and claimed that he had a place in his trophy room reserved for what he called, “That impressive young criminal”.

He quickly picked up the tracks of the teenager, which were easily differentiated from the other tracks by their size and, unlike one of the other sets, they were obviously not the tracks of someone who was moving even more awkwardly than the restrictions under which he was running demanded. A commentator pointed out to the television audience that he’d seemed to go deliberately past where he could easily have picked up another clear trail and a studio expert shortened the odds on Rhys’s survival prior to announcing that no more bets would now be accepted.

The usual rush of adrenaline was coursing through Rhys’s body and making it difficult for him to settle in his concealment or even to quieten his breathing enough to enable him to hear clearly. He hoped that the tangle of timber that he’d improvised would conceal him until his body had slowed down a bit.

The younger hunter lost the trail in a stream and started quartering the ground carefully trying to re-locate it. It took about an hour but eventually he found it again. By now nearly half of the audience expelled a mass groan of regret as their favourite outlaw looked even less likely to survive than he had done previously. Not long afterwards there was a massed, mainly female, cheer as the track disappeared again on the rocky ground of the rise surrounding the hollow in which Rhys was hiding.

As he heard the sound of intermittent footsteps approaching, he had to make a decision: run for it and hope that his lair was not yet within the hunter’s sight or hold his nerve and hope that the danger would pass. His heart started pounding again until Rhys thought that anyone passing too close would be able to hear it. His noisy breathing became impossible to control and more and more rapid. The steps stopped.

Rhys tried to hold his breath.

With the inevitable slowing of time that goes with adrenaline flow, Rhys had no idea how long it had been since he’d been released from the cage but he didn’t dare to hope that his ordeal was anywhere near over. He lay as still as his over-stimulated body would allow. The intermittent steps passed and Rhys allowed himself a peek through his barricade. He caught his first view of the young hunter since the auction. He was zig-zagging and stopping to examine the ground every few metres and it took a good twenty minutes before Rhys could convince himself that his adversary was moving away.

Then there was a shot.

The hunter turned to look towards where it came from and Rhys froze and held his breath for what seemed like a lifetime before the skinny hunter smirked, nodded weakly and resumed his task. At least now Rhys had only one predator to worry about.

The now uncontrollably trembling quarry squinted desperately through his barricade, only hoping that the hunter wouldn’t return until the rise had hidden his refuge from view. Several interminable minutes later, he grabbed roughly at the spiked genital cage in an attempt to spur himself into action and, keeping low, he headed as stealthily as possible away from where the hunter seemed to be bound.

The hour or so that it took the hunter to give up trying to find tracks on the hard ground allowed Rhys to get most of the way back to the stream at a place where it had a pebbly bottom. The hunter slowly circled the rise until he found the new set of tracks leading away from it. He was happy; the boy was obviously moving more slowly now.

Rhys entered the stream where he thought he would leave no sign. All those afternoons spent speculating with his friends about what quarry ought to do in different circumstances seemed to be paying off – but doesn’t EVERYBODY know better than anybody else what to do in every such situation? Rhys waded thigh-deep along the stream for several hundred metres, often falling into deep holes and inhaling quantities of peat-brown water before recovering his footing. He was hoping that the raised bank and the undergrowth, willows and bog-oaks would conceal him as tried to keep as low as possible.

The hunter eventually found the single deep footprint in the mud that Rhys had unsuccessfully tried to jump as he entered the stream. Now it was a question of deciding how much double-think to apply. Would his quarry exit on the opposite bank, would he stay in the stream, if so, which way would he go? Was he making this too difficult? Instinct told him that a criminal as experienced as Rhys was more likely to head back to his starting point, a technique that experienced quarry often used thinking that hunters would expect them to continue heading towards the perimeter.

The television host announced that there were only thirty minutes left.

Rhys continued fighting the water until he noticed some exposed tree roots that would serve as a ladder up the bank into a sort of vegetative cave in the undergrowth. He climbed clumsily out onto the same bank by which he’d entered the stream leaving his chest and abdomen considerably lacerated and bruised but he needed to hide and rest so he curled himself into as small a ball as possible and penetrated the undergrowth. He only hoped that the entrance to his refuge would not be visible from above bank level. It wasn’t. But from the opposite bank it was just possible for an observant and experienced hunter to see abnormal movements and just a hint of muddied flesh in the bushes as Rhys failed to suppress his heavy breathing.

The hunter, aware that his time was running out, decided that he’d have to play his hunch.

Rhys’s attempt to remain curled in the vain hope that, if he couldn’t see his nemesis, he in turn could not be seen, soon failed and, as Rhys lifted his head, he saw the prone hunter on the opposite bank preparing his shot. There was no escape. This was not a marksman who ever missed his mark. His smile spread as he caught sight of one of Rhys’s eyes confirming his hunch.

The hunter flinched somewhat as the hooter announced the end of the contest but only just before his gun was disabled and he’d got off his one shot. Rhys’s bridled head jerked backwards as he unravelled and fell limply to the ground.

And now, as it would say on TV, word from our sponsor:

I PROTEST. The hunter cheated i saw it on the closed circuit cameras, He's an American he'll do anything to win. I demand that RHYS BE REPAIRED AND LET GO.

🖐REPAIR RHYS🖐

PS. GREAT STORY

Really, you had to go there...... leaving us once more on a cliffhanger and inserting a word from a sponsor! Commercials have gotten ridiculously out of hand these days. More of those then the content we are trying to watch it seems. Perhaps we should throw you to the wolves as a massage to those that over do Commercials JK

Let's just hope this hunter actually missed for once and Ryhs only fell back from the relief that he didn't get shot once again. Our little celebrity can't go out like this. We're rooting for him to make through one final round and regain his freedom. Hopefully no one will screw him outta that!

Well, @Snozzberry, if our shooter cheated, there will be a lot of witnesses when his case comes up. Bit of a shame about his target, though.

Look, @Red86, how am I going to make a profit from my labours without accepting sponsorship? Now, about that used car . . .
Shadowboy I mean the American shooter has never been known to miss yet. Do you think you made the correct bet?

Now I know what it's like to be on the receiving end of a cliffhanger. Augh!

Ah, @blackbound, probably not much longer to wait now.

Xtc wrote: 2 months ago Look, @Red86, how am I going to make a profit from my labours without accepting sponsorship? Now, about that used car . . .
Shadowboy I mean the American shooter has never been known to miss yet. Do you think you made the correct bet?

Car salesman are usually the worse

I'll put it to you this way, I will not be placing a bet. My interpretation is that he actually did indeed hit his target. But I'm wondering if he was going for a headshot and struck the metal bridle. You did say Rhys bridled head jerk backwards. So my theory says even as much as Rhys hates that thing, it may have saved his life. Again, just my theory. I'll patiently wait until you reveal it, whenever the next chapter is posted!

@Red86 @Xtc Lawyers and Undertakers are the worst, and Rhys might be needing both, I certainly hope not though.

🖐🖐

Interesting, @Red86.
Was this based on the fact that, if someone walks through the door carrying a gun early on, it has to be used before the final page?

@Snozzberry, it's a bit to late for lawyers as far as Rhys is concerned but perhaps the American shooter might need one.
Undertakers: I refer you to the "D'you want her burnt, buried or dumped?" sketch from Monty Python. You might remember the aside before the totally staged invasion of the stage by "outraged" spectators.

Xtc wrote: 2 months ago Interesting, @Red86.
Was this based on the fact that, if someone walks through the door carrying a gun early on, it has to be used before the final page?

Humm, not sure I'm fully following your question. The only facts I have at the moment, is the hunter took a shot and Rhys head jerkerd backwards. His head being jerkerd, is a good clue he was struck with something and in this case would probably be a bullet from a high powered rifle. I mean I doubt someone else is near him and struck him in the head 1st. If you didn't use the word "jerkerd" I would go with my initial thought that Rhys just collapsed as the hunt came to a close. So with the limited details, you have to take this at face value and can not come up with a full conclusion.

As we Brits might say, "No shit, Sherlock". We shall just have to wait and see. Shouldn't be too long now.
Thanks for staying with the game, @Red86, such responses are invaluable to a writer's morale.

The hunter cursed the hooter and cursed his own loss of cool. He discarded the rifle and plunged into the stream to examine his trophy. He climbed the bank and penetrated the thicket. He cursed the fact that he had missed his mark and he cursed his choice of the soft-nosed bullet that had caused such damage to the head of his trophy. The wound extended from near the point of Rhys’s chin and tore across to the point of his jaw where the bullet had been flattened against the metal bridle before getting the chance fully to penetrate the target’s jaw. The head lay bizarrely angled against the ground and the hunter cursed again; his quarry was still breathing.

The retrieval teams and the tracker dogs would be on their way and a penny to a pound the cameras would be watching, including the one in the helicopter that had just appeared in order to get a better angle on the scene. Should the frustrated hunter administer the coup-de-grace? Who would see? There would be no post mortem. He looked up to the helicopter and down at the unconscious criminal and back to the helicopter. He didn’t even have room for a good kick to the collapsed convict’s belly before pushing his way through the scrub and waiting for a lift away from the Reserve and to the inevitable television interview. By the time he’d got back to the arena, he’d recovered his composure and even managed to present himself as an honest sportsman in the interview during which he had to pay tribute to Rhys as the only quarry ever to have escaped him since he had become old enough to hunt.





When Rhys came to, he was lying on a padded hospital table. Although he was still naked and no longer had the neck ring, the bridle on his head or the spiked device digging into his genitals, he was still strapped to the table by his waist, his wrists and his neck. As he gradually returned to consciousness, Rhys could feel the pain in his jaw, which was now heavily bandaged although, according to the Doctor, at least it wasn’t broken and they were going to keep him under observation for about twelve hours.

Rhys found out later that he had already been tattooed with his final two tally marks to show that his debt had been paid in full and was eventually released from the hospital trolley. That’s all that his release was: no ceremony, no pain-killers, no clothing, no reassurance, just dismissal.

As he walked tentatively towards the hospital exit, Rhys’s life was full of uncertainty. Would his parents meet him? Would they even take him back? Would he be able to complete his education? What had happened to the rest of them? What if . . . ?

Well, @blackbound, @Bradstick, @Caldo203, @harveygasson, @Jb99, @Red86, @Snozzberry, and @Wedgieboy69, that's it.

Thanks for commenting, especially those who have stayed with the wholw marathon

I'll still pay 10,000,000 Azzcrackistani Vermicious Knids (VKs) for Rhys, even if he is damaged goods, he is a brave young man. The knife was, allegedly, planted on him by a greedy Life Insurance Agent just trying to drum up business at Rhys's misfortunes. Rhys will make a great Houseboy since has proven that he can follow orders and instructions and is even willing to wear a head cage and spiked device on his genitals.

🖐🖐

Well, I hope he learned something from the ordeal. Maybe he can find crimeless fame instead now that he has a fan club.

Ah, @Snozzberry, I regret that you have misunderstood the justice system; Rhys is now a free man upon whom no man has a claim. You never know, his parents might even take him back.

I do hope so, @blackbound, he deserves to do well, perhaps he will appear on "The Gladiators"?

Great ending to the story! I’m glad Rhy got his freedom, let’s just hope he gets to keep it! I’m excited to see what your next story entails whenever that may be!

Thank you, @Bradstick, next long story as yet unknown.
Several have been started but all are stalled except one that might not be suitable for this site. It is taking all my, increasingly meagre, spare time and will do until it is completed.
Thanks, again, for the encouragement.

Wow, as much money as the state made, they only "observed" Rhys for 12 hours after being wounded in the face. Not even a dose of advil...... heartless ppl.

Well atleast the festival counted as 2 hunts. I wasn't sure if they would count that as 2 since there was two hunters. Was half expecting someone to screw him over again. It was never made 100% clear if Ryhs had actually had a knife at the time of being caught. I know Rhys had said it but it could have been one of those things he just thought was true after all he was put through. Something just felt fishy with the whole system to me and I definitely wouldn't have put it past someone to plant one on him, as a repeat offender to have their quarry to hunt.

But atleast he got through it all and hopefully he'll stay outta any trouble that could land him being a repeat offender again. That would surely be his demise for a 3rd offense. I would just worry he'd have to resource to criminal activities if his family rejected him now. Hopefully they wouldn't or hopefully his new fan base would be of support to him. Always amazes to this day in our society, most criminals get let out and because lack of support or crappy programs, they ultimately end up right back where they were. This so called rehabilitation shouldn't end at release. I get you can't force it but the system is full of so many problems, it usually fails. And I also get not all people can be rehabilitated either and some just deserve to stay in institutions but still, almost everyone deserves a fair chance of being a productive member of society. Or else the cycle is almost guaranteed to repeat.

Overall, while I'm normally more into stories that, idk not involving overly cruel and even high chance of death, I enjoyed reading this tail. It was well written and even with all the cliffhangers, was paced out nicely!