Stories of Tie Up Games

I haven't been around much recently due to some personal stuff, but in that time I've been working on a few new ongoing stories. So here is the first installment of the one that I've made the most progress on.

PART 1: The Night Shift Sucks

Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.

All things considered, I didn’t have the worst job in the world, but I could have done better. A lot better. I should have gone to college like Mom and Dad wanted, but I was young and in love. I was absolutely sure she was the one and dropped everything after high school to move across the country with her. In a turn of events that should shock no one, the relationship fizzled six months later and I found myself 3,000 miles from home with a distinct lack of options. Sure, I could have gone back. But hearing “I told you so” from Dad was definitely NOT something I wanted to experience. So when the warehouse posted a “help wanted” ad for night workers, I took it. I told myself I would only work here for a year at most, until something better came along, but five years later… here I still am. Name's Mike, by the way.



At the current moment, I had plenty of time to sit and ponder my life choices. In fact, sitting was all I could really do. The chair I was seated in was uncomfortable as hell, and I wanted nothing more than to get up, but unfortunately the ropes prevented that from happening. A thick band of white nylon clothesline was stretched painfully tightly across my chest. It went around seven times. I counted. Not much else to do. It pressed my arms to my sides, making me unable to move them even a hair. Breathing wasn’t difficult, but the tightness did hurt for a while. As an added bonus, it kept me helplessly fastened to the high-backed breakroom chair. And this thing came off the assembly line in the 70s. Nothing sort of a chainsaw was going to break it.

I mention this because, in movies and such, the captured hero will often break the chair he’s tied to, giving him the slack (or sharp objects) he needs to escape. But that wasn’t going to happen here. Not a chance. My wrists were held behind the back of the chair by more of the nylon rope. I couldn’t crane my neck back far enough to see, but the guy who tied me was back there for a while, so I assume it was as thorough as my chest bindings. It certainly felt it. Tight enough to completely prevent me from slipping my wrists out, but not tight enough to stop circulation. It felt like it went around my crossed wrists in both crossways directions and even wound through itself several times. I had tried feeling around with my fingers for the knots at first, but no matter how much I searched I just couldn’t reach them. So I gave up on that.

My ankles had been tied together with more clothesline and then pulled back under the chair. They were tied to the crossbar underneath and suspended off the floor. So I couldn’t even get any leverage to stand up and move. I did hop around a bit at first, and even managed to travel a foot or two, but the steel feet of the chair made so much noise scraping across the concrete floor that it alerted my captors and one of them came in and delivered a quick jab to my jaw that smacked away any further ideas of continuing that particular maneuver. Besides, I almost tipped over attempting it and I had no desire to break my arms. The feet were actually the worst part. The steel-toed work boots we have to wear at the warehouse are heavy and my calf muscles were cramping from the strain of supporting them. I’d probably have a nasty Charley Horse tomorrow.

I could have called for help, but in the middle of an industrial park at 2 in the morning, who was going to hear? We all knew it, but that didn’t stop my captors from gagging my mouth, too. Right now my cheeks were bulging out from the sweaty red bandana that was stuffed inside. I had been wearing it on my head to keep my hardhat from chafing my forehead, but as soon as I was trussed it was snatched off me, balled up, and jammed in my mouth. It had absorbed all the moisture in there, leaving me with a killer case of cottonmouth, but I couldn’t spit it out. As soon as it was in, another bandana was tied super tight across my mouth and secured behind my head. They tied a big knot in the middle that helped keep the stuffing ball in place. Then a third one was folded into a wide band and tied over the second. The whole lower half of my face was covered, from nose to chin. The only sound that came out of me was muffled grunts.

That’s when they left me. On the good side, they left the TV in the break room on so I had something to watch while I sat here tied up like an idiot. On the bad side it was nothing but a marathon of Andy Griffith reruns. Maybe they should have just shot me?

The night up until an hour ago had been pretty normal. Jimmy and I had worked a couple of hours stacking the new electronics and had pretty much finished the day’s work three hours into the shift. We had a couple of beers in the break room and then he decided to bail for the night. We usually did that. If all the work was done, we’d take turns skipping out early. No one checked the cameras if everything was done by the time the morning shift came, so it was a pretty sweet deal. Although in situations like this, I can understand why we were always supposed to work in pairs. But what can ya do? After I ate lunch I had a smoke and stopped by the bathroom. But as soon as I came out, I knew something was up.

Everything just kinda felt… wrong. You know that weird feeling you get when something bad is about to happen? Yeah, I got it. So I decided to take a look around, just to settle my mind. I put on my hardhat and went into the warehouse. The motion-sensing overhead lights were already on. They should have turned off 10 minutes after Jimmy left, which was a half an hour ago. But they were on. Then I heard voices.

I slowly crept down the aisle towards the voices, always keeping stacks or shelves between us. Moving silently in work boots isn’t easy, but I thought I was doing an OK job of it. Eventually I got to where the sound was coming from. I ducked down and hid, peering through the slats of the pallets forming the rack wall. I could see a truck with the back gate open and a ramp lowered. Several boxes were already inside and I could tell from the empty spaces in the stacks that Jimmy and I made earlier that this wasn’t a delivery. I could see two ski-masked men dressed all in black carrying a big box up the ramp.

Holy shit! We were being robbed! I know we had to watch the training video about this when we got hired, but never in a million years did I think it would really happen! I saw that the men had guns stuffed in their waistbands, so I made the tactical decision to get the hell out of there. No way I’m getting shot over someone else’s stuff. It’s all insured, anyway. I knew there was a maintenance exit near the break room, so I decided to sneak away over there and vamoose. I turned and carefully started walking back the way I came. I turned around every so often to make sure the two robbers hadn’t noticed me. But I probably shouldn’t have done that so often. When I was about ¾ of the way there I turned my head to look back and walked straight into something.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the box tipped off the top shelf and came crashing down to the warehouse floor. Whatever was inside smashed, making a loud noise.

“What the fuck was that?” I head from the loading dock.

That’s it, no time for subtlety anymore. I started booking towards the door. Right as I made it to the break room an arm shot out from the doorway and grabbed me. I let out a cry of surprise and my hardhat slipped off and fell to the concrete floor, making a loud plastic rattle. The grip on my arm was ridiculously strong, even with my adrenaline rush. As I struggled, my unseen attacker’s other hand grabbed me as well and caught me in a bearhug. Another ski-masked dude came out of the break room with a gun pointed straight at me. I stopped squirming real quick after that.

“We found him!” the man bellowed.

“Good!” came the response from the far side of the warehouse. “Hold him, I’ll be right there.”

My heart was beating out of my chest and I could only stare at the barrel of the gun. Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!

Within seconds a third masked man came around the corner, also with his gun drawn. He walked right up to me. “OK, buddy. Here’s how it’s gonna go. You’re just a working stiff and we don’t want to hurt you. We’re just gonna help ourselves to the merchandise and be on our way. It’s not yours, so no skin off your teeth, right?”

Feeling a little better, I weakly nodded. Both guns were still out so I didn’t think talking would be wise.

“Smart man,” he said. “Now we can’t have you roaming around while we work, so the boys are gonna take you back into the break room and tie you up for a while. Nothing personal. You’ll just be a little uncomfortable for a few hours. After we’re long gone the morning crew will find you and let you loose. Hell, you might even get a few days off to deal with the ‘emotional stress.’ Doesn’t that sound good?”

I relaxed a little and feebly nodded. The man gave me a few light taps on the cheek with his leather-gloved hand. “I knew you’d see it our way,” he said, and turned to his partners. “You two do him up and then come meet us to help load. He’s the only one here.”

After that, he stowed his gun and walked back to the loading area. The unseen man holding me dragged me into the breakroom and the other one followed behind. He grabbed the nearest chair, dragging it a short distance away from the table. On the table was a black military-style duffel bag. It looks like they came straight here looking for me, but I wasn’t around. Must have been when I was in the bathroom, I guess. I felt the grip holding me loosen and then release me. The other man pointed at the chair and said “over here, pal.”

I carefully moved over to the chair, looking straight ahead with my hands slightly raised. Before I sat down, I felt the contents of my pockets being removed and tossed on the table. When that was done, I slowly sat down. The thug stowed his gun and started rifling through the duffel bag. He took out several lengths of clothesline and tossed a few to his partner, who I could now see since he had been behind me before. Saying the man was massive was an understatement. He was easily 6’3” and over 200 pounds. I guess he was the intimidation guy. Must have been employee of the month in that regard.

I braced myself for the ropes, but I wasn’t prepared for how thorough they were going to be. I figured it would just be a cursory binding that I could wriggle out of and bolt when no one was looking but these guys were clearly professionals. They worked fast and without a sound. Based on how tight and secure the ropes being wrapped around me were, I could tell that they planned on being here for a while and needed to make absolutely sure I wasn’t going anywhere until they were done. As the ropes tightened, I grunted a few times, but they didn’t pay it any mind.

When they were done securing me to the chair, they stepped back and admired their handiwork. I squirmed a little, testing the ropes, but it was no use. No slack. No give. No chance. I was stuck, and good. They gave me a quick once-over to make sure everything was snug, and then the smaller guy said, “Looks good. He ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now, there’s just one more thing.”

I wondered what he meant for a second, but then I felt him snatch the do-rag from my head and ball it up. “Open up!” he said, holding it in front of my face. I didn’t want that thing in my mouth, no way! I had been wearing it every shift for a week and it was filthy with sweat and dirt.

“Come on, man,” I said. “No need for that. I’m not gonna yell. There’s no one around to hear anyway.”

“Tough shit,” was the response. “This is part of the deal. Now open up or my partner will force you. Do you want your jaw broken? Because that’s what will happen if he gets involved.”

Faced with that choice, I had no other option but to open wide. The sweaty rag was shoved in my mouth and I felt leather-gloved fingers forcing every bit of it inside. I choked a little, but managed to keep my cool. Then the other two bandanas were applied and I was completely and totally gagged. They spun the chair to face the TV in the corner and walked out of the room.

So that’s how I ended up like this. Tied to a chair in the break room and gagged. Watching the citizens of Mayberry get into wacky situations. Other than my failed hopping experiment, none of my captors came back into the room. I guess they felt I was tied well enough that they didn’t need to check on me. So I resigned myself to a long night of discomfort, very glad I had gone to the bathroom before all this. There were still four hours of my shift left until the morning crew came in. I wondered what they’d say when they found me. Probably laugh and take pictures. Hell, that’s what I would do. If only I could change the channel…

---

A single police car rounded the corner of the industrial park and came to a stop some distance away from the warehouse. The lone occupant turned off the lights and let his eyes adjust to the low light. “No one at the precinct believed me when I said that shady people had been seen casing that warehouse,” rookie officer Alejandro Gonzalez thought. “Well wait ‘till they see me make the biggest bust this town has ever seen! Goodbye night shift!”



The officer checked his taser battery and made sure he had enough flashbangs and stepped out of the car. After one last inspection of his duty belt gear, he grabbed his service pistol and quietly crept through the darkness towards the warehouse.

Coming Soon: Part Two – Hey, I Know You!

Already gripped! Loving the balance of pace and detail and the main narrator's viewpoint feels authentic. Keen to read more.

Great premise and great start! A nice, secure chair tie for Mike already! Those robbers really know their stuff! I have a feeling poor Officer Gonzelez is going to end up in a similar predicament, and I can't wait to read about it!

As [mention]Straitjacketed[/mention] said...

Already gripped!

The story reads like a film noir narration from the 1940s. Well done.

Thanks for the praise. It's appreciated.

And there's plenty in store for Alejandro, don't worry about that!

Well this story's off to a rip-roaring fun start with a bound worker and a stud cop on deck. Based on your affinity for veiled pop culture references, [mention]wataru14[/mention] , I was all ready for the YMCA references to roll after the introduction of these two characters but then quickly realized that's the Village People not Men at Work, my bad haha

Looking forward to seeing how this mötley crüe are all tied together... quite literally, hehe... even if they might not end up being as eclectic as the Village People

george_bound wrote: 3 years ago I was all ready for the YMCA references to roll after the introduction of these two characters

You know me too well, sir. But I'm not playing this one for camp. There's no reason why it CAN'T exist in my usual world, but I'm saving the snark for my Dr. Calamity sequel.

Great beginning! I love the strict chair roping and the gag

Oh no, not Andy Griffith! That's just wrong...

A delightful beginning, utilizing your welcome blend of intrigue and humor! I'm, as always, excited to see muscular guys be tied up, and I'm eager to see what surprises are in store for our unlucky protagonist!

Great first chapter. Love the narration style, the little bits of humour and the suspense. I agree with others on that it is quite film noir.

I have a feeling Alejandro is going to get some recognition but maybe not for the reason he hoped!

Great Story

An interesting beginning. Hopefully, Alejandro will find himself less than pleased with his idea to catch the thieves. Also, the inclusion of pictures is a nice addition to the story (to every story, actually ).

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As I add more parts of this story, I ask that readers do not click the left and right arrows on the pictures. They way Flickr hosts images, they are all in one chain and if you do that you'll see images of characters that haven't appeared yet. You don't want to spoil the story, do you?

As I add more parts of this story, I ask that readers do not click the left and right arrows on the pictures.

There must be a way to post them individually, [mention]wataru14[/mention].

Someone on the Board, I'm sure, could help.

wataru14 wrote: 3 years agoThere's no reason why it CAN'T exist in my usual world, but I'm saving the snark for my Dr. Calamity sequel.

I can imagine it all taking place in the grim 'n' gritty Calamityverse equivalent of Gotham City. Perhaps there's a Dark Tight Detective - Knotman - who would swoop in and deal with the bad guys if he weren't back home in the Knotcave with his sidekick Gagin and their gimp butler.

Great story.
Any chance these thugs wanna swing by my work

PART TWO: Hey, I Know You!

Officer Gonzalez made his way past the lowered security gate, sneaking under it like a ninja and hustling across the parking lot, making sure to stay out of the light. He ran track in high school and still considered himself to be in excellent shape. He avoided the precinct donuts, at least, unlike a lot of his coworkers, who didn’t appreciate his health tips very much. But they’d come around. He knew it deep down. He saw the open loading dock door and the truck parked halfway in, illuminated by the light from inside. He could see moving shadows around, so he stopped to observe for a moment.

“Looks like four people,” he thought. “That’s strange. I only noticed three casing the place these past few nights. But still, that’s too many for me to deal with at once. I’d better find a way in somewhere else and take them down one at a time. Did I bring enough cuffs? Yes. Good. Now let’s get John McClane on their asses.”

Alejandro had aced the academy (of course) and was eager to prove himself. He understood when he joined the force that there would be rookie hazing, but it was all in fun and the spirit of brotherhood, right? At least that’s what he told himself at the end of his first day. There was always an adjustment period for new hires, but he felt his was a little excessive. He wasn’t allowed to go out on patrol until after his second week, and that was with a partner. His first weeks were spent being “office bitch,” doing menial tasks and picking up lunch for the guys while enduring name-calling and such. But the end of his first day was a doozy.

He had just come back from his fourth 7-11 run of the day (he had made Officer Santucci’s coffee wrong the last time), but the station seemed oddly empty when he got back. Not a soul around. He put the coffee and snacks and such on everyone’s desks as instructed, but didn’t see anyone. That gave him an uneasy feeling as he walked through the precinct, calling out for his fellow officers. When he got to the holding cells area, that’s when they struck.

As soon as he entered the room, he was grabbed by two sets of gloved hands, one high and one low. In his peripheral vision he saw Officers Santucci and Jones decked out in riot gear and facemasks holding him fast and laughing like children. The other cops were gathered around, watching (including the chief!). He struggled against their grip, but even with his natural athleticism, he was no match for them. Santucci, in particular, was skilled in takedown tactics. They wrestled him down to the floor face-first and held him there like he was a perp, complete with Santucci’s knee in his back.






Alejandro shouted and protested as felt his hands being pulled behind him and forced into proper arrest position. All of it underscored by the hooting and cheering of his coworkers. He fought like mad, but it was no use. In a matter of seconds he heard the jangling of handcuffs being removed from a belt holster and then felt the bite of the cold steel around his wrists. He squirmed and pleaded as the cuffs were ratcheted closed and double locked. “Ha ha, guys,” he said. “Very funny. Cuff up the new kid. Big laugh. Take your pictures and let me go.”

“No way, kid,” Santucci said. “We’re not done with you yet!”

Alejandro wondered what he meant by that, but his answer soon came in the squelching sound of duct tape being pulled off the roll. His feet were kicked together and lifted by Jones and he felt the tape being tightly wrapped around his ankles. Around and around it went, going up his legs, past his knees, and up to his mid thighs. Getting tighter and tighter with each revolution around. He squirmed and kicked, but the other officers were too strong. His legs were sealed together in a silvery prison. He was flipped onto his back and lifted into a sitting position, where Santucci held him in a loose front chokehold. He felt the tape now getting plastered just above his waist and getting wrapped around his torso. From below his belly button all the way up to his shoulders. Within seconds Alejandro was snugly encased in an unbreakable silver cocoon. As a finishing touch, the last of the tape was plastered over his lips and wrapped around his head seven or eight times. The completely empty roll was tossed in the trash nearby.

Once Alejandro was fully done up, the officers released him from the hold and let him crawl around the floor like a worm. Looking up, he saw that a third officer had been filming the entire thing on his phone. “Great,” Alejandro thought. “Probably going to be on Youtube tonight.” He endured the jibes of his coworkers like a champ, though. He even smiled a little himself, under his tight tapegag. Hell, this was all a part of being a rookie, wasn’t it?

Santucci leaned in and said, “Maybe now you’ll remember that I like four sugars. Not three. Four!” He patted Alejandro on the back and kneeled down next to him. He grinned stuck his tongue out, giving a heavy metal devil horns hand gesture as Jones snapped a picture. Like a fisherman posing with a prize catch. After playfully rubbing Alejandro’s head and messing up his hair, Santucci got up and grabbed the cup off his desk. He took a sip, then winced and spit it out into the sink. “Yech! Too sweet! Oh wait, did I say ‘four?’ I meant ‘two.’ My bad!”

Alejandro grunted through his tapegag, but the other guys just howled with laughter. Santucci said, “Looks like he needs some time to cool off and contemplate his mistake.” He and Jones then lifted Alejandro up off the floor, carried him into a holding cell, and dropped him on the bunk. The rookie screamed and wriggled as the two officers quickly ducked back into the hall and closed the cell door, locking it tight behind them. “Goodnight, rookie,” Santucci said with a wry smile. “See you in the morning.”

That was the worst of it, though. After that he made the coffee perfectly and just had to deal with some generally good-natured ribbing. He was partnered with Santucci during his probie weeks, but after that he was out on his own. At night. But they said the new guys always got the shit shift. This wasn’t a large town, so Alejandro didn’t have much to do. Chase a few teenagers out of the park after closing. Circle the residential neighborhoods to make the Karens feel better. As a result, his numbers were low and he knew that made him look very bad. He’d never get off the night shift that way! So when he kept reporting that he saw people moving around the warehouses at night when the workers were supposed to be at home, the other cops thought he was making it up to make it look like he was actually doing something. Well, he’d show them!

Not making a sound, Alejandro crept over to the side wall of the warehouse, making sure to stay out of the sight of the open bay door. He followed the perimeter until he found an open window. It was the window to the bathroom and had been left slightly ajar by someone to air it out. Looking around to make sure he wasn’t spotted, the eager young rookie hoisted himself up and shimmied through the open window. He silently dropped down and made his way across the wet tile floor to the door. He switched off the lights to prevent any telltale spillover when he emerged and slowly opened the door a crack.

“No one around!” he thought. “Good. Now I could just wait in here and nab one when he comes to take a piss, but there’s no guarantee that one will need to. No. I have to go in farther.” He moved into the hall like a shadow, passing a few closed and locked offices as he went. As he approached the doorway to the warehouse, he heard the sound of a TV from a nearby room. “Better check that out,” he thought, and carefully moved through the doorway.

In the far distance, obscured by the racks of boxes, he could see the gang working on loading their plunder. For a moment he thought about ignoring the TV and going straight there, but decided against it. “No,” he thought. “If one of them is in here taking a break I can catch him off guard. One quarter of the job done. Otherwise, someone could sneak up on me.”

Back down the hallway, the door to the second bathroom opened and a lone black-clad figure emerged, putting on his gloves after washing his hands. He managed to catch a glimpse of the officer’s back just before he slipped into the warehouse. Drawing his gun, he slowly tiptoed down the hall.

---

I was actually thinking of trying to get some sleep, if I could. No sense in just sitting here. Besides, the TV had gone to infomercials and I just want to slap the Mypillow guy in his stupid face. So I squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable. And I almost succeeded. But I stopped when I saw a shadow moving on the floor outside. I figured one of the robbers was coming to check on me. Or, better yet, tell me they were done and were leaving. But imagine my surprise when I saw a cop pop his head through the door!

Well, almost a cop. He must have been about 19 or 20 years old. Fresh out of the academy. I wondered for a second about why a rookie would be on a bust like this, not to mention alone, but I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. As he came into the light, I recognized him. Shit! Of all the cops in town it had to be this guy!

About three months ago there was a break-in in my apartment while I was at work. I came home to find my door lock broken and a bunch of stuff missing. TV, game console, the watch I got as a high school graduation present… I called the cops and waited, and then this punk shows up! The fact that he was young didn’t bother me. Everyone’s the new guy at one point. The fact that he acted like he was too good to be dealing with my insignificant burglary did. At first, he seemed really disinterested in my story. Like taking my statement was beneath him. He even said “I’m surprised someone chose to rob you. Doesn’t look like there was anything here worth stealing.” He laughed but I didn’t. After that I was pretty cold with him, and with good reason.

Now some guys don’t like cops, and I can see why. I really can. But I have no problem with them. They’re just doing their jobs like everyone else. The bar I go to on weekends has a few cop regulars and we get along pretty well. This one guy, Santucci, is a real fun guy. A bit of a dudebro, and very loud, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m supposed to go over to his place for Super Bowl Sunday, actually. But where Santucci is friendly and inviting, this kid was cold and clinical. I told him his attitude wasn’t helping things and that a police officer should be more sympathetic to a citizen in need. But that just ticked him off. Then it got worse.

When he looked in my bedroom, he saw my smashed bong on the floor among the other debris. “And what do we have here?” he said, real cocky like. “You have a medical card? I don’t think so. Maybe this wasn’t a random burglary after all. Maybe it was a drug deal gone bad.”

“What?” I said. “That’s insane.”

“Watch your mouth, citizen” he said, putting his finger right in my face. “You will show me the proper respect. Actually, forget that, you’re coming with me. You’re under arrest for possession of drug paraphernalia and suspicion of narcotics trafficking. Turn around and place your hands on your head.”

Now I had just come home from work after a long shift to find this mess and I was in no mood for bullshit power games. “What the fuck, man? I’m the victim here!”

“Resisting arrest, huh?” he sneered. “You’re only making it worse on yourself.” I just stared at him dumbfounded. Finally, he decided he had enough and rushed me. He shoved me against the wall of my bedroom and smooshed my face into the drywall. I struggled and protested as he wrenched my hands behind my back and slapped a pair of steel handcuffs on me. Super tight. Like beyond regulation tight. I’d been cuffed by cops once or twice before, but not like this. This kid was trying to make a point. Then he grabbed me by the collar of my work shirt and perp walked me out into the hall like I was a goddamn felon.

It was around 8:30 in the morning at this point and people were active in and around my building. Getting ready to leave for work and going about their daily business. I tried to lower my head as he paraded me past my neighbors, cuffed like a criminal, but he forced me to look up by pulling slightly upwards on my cuffed wrists and saying “stop resisting, punk” so everyone could hear. Once outside, he roughly sat me down on the curb of the sidewalk where passersby could easily see me. I squirmed at the discomfort of the cuffs, completely humiliated. I wasn’t exactly compliant when he did me up, so my hands were locked in a weird position that put some strain on my shoulders. People outside stopped to gawk and gasp and more than one took pictures. I saw neighbors that I had been friendly with looking at me with shocked expressions, whispering to each other.

I sat there fuming as the officer radioed in to HQ, trying to position my cuffed hands in a semi-comfortable position. After about 15 minutes of shame, a squad car pulled up and two other officers got out. I was happy to see that the driver was Santucci from the bar. He had a “what the fuck?” look on his face and stormed over to the rookie. The three talked for a while and the two new arrivals didn’t seem happy about what he was telling them. I couldn’t hear exactly what the rookie was saying, but I did manage to catch “end of the month” and “overtime.” So that’s what this was about. A goddamn quota! He was making me look like a criminal in front of my neighbors to inflate his arrest numbers!

The three cops started to argue. Santucci made a “shut the fuck up” gesture to the rookie, who stepped away and scowled. Then he came over to me. He picked me up off the curb and stood me up, being uncharacteristically professional. He said to me, really softly, “Shit, Mike, I’m sorry about this. Kid thinks he’s a real cowboy and acted like a fool. You’re not going anywhere. Let me fix this situation and I’ll buy the first round on Saturday.”

I nodded and he said, in a loud voice so all the looky-loos could hear, “I apologize on behalf of my colleague for your treatment, sir. He’s young and inexperienced and NEEDS TO LEARN HOW TO DEAL WITH THE PUBLIC MORE COURTEOUSLY. Especially those who HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG. There has been a big misunderstanding on his part and I think it would be best if I handle things from here.” I nodded and shot dagger eyes at the rookie. Officer Santucci uncuffed me and followed me back inside to get my statement while his partner continued to berate the rookie.

Blinking my eye a few times to chase the memory away, I sat unbelieving at how bad my luck was. But the rookie didn’t seem to recognize me. Why would he? Guys like me aren’t worth remembering, I suppose. Figures. Just then I saw another figure silently appear in the doorway behind him.

“Are you OK?” the cop whispered. With one eye on the man in the doorway I slowly nodded. But he didn’t seem to notice the masked figure creeping up silently behind. “Let me get you loose and get you out of here. Then I’ll get the guys who did this to you.” He moved toward me and I made full eye contact with the thug in the door. He just held up one finger in front of his mouth in a “sshhhh” gesture.

Now in that split second I had a serious decision to make. If I started grunting and struggling, the cop would realize something was up. He would turn, see the robber and react. There was plenty of time. If I did nothing, he would be completely unaware as the thug got the drop on him.

Now these guys were criminals, but I didn’t hold that against them. They were just trying to make a living like everyone else. Hell, they were probably making more bank than I was. They could have wasted me when the caught me instead of just tying me up (it would probably have been easier for them than leaving me like this), but they didn’t. They were almost nice about the whole thing. A lot nicer than this rookie had been when I needed his help. Well, the broken jaw threat and the “stop trying to escape” punch weren’t exactly nice, but that was just bravado. They could have done a lot worse but they didn’t. On the other hand, this kid was a cop. But he was a prick. A real cocky asshole who doesn’t really care about the people he “serves and protects.” I could tell that from our first brief encounter.

“You know what?” I thought. “Fuck this pig.”

Coming Soon: Part Three – Stockholm Ain’t Just a City in Sweden

Honestly, I don't blame our construction guy for siding with the thieves. Sounds like Officer Gonzales still hasn't learned his lesson and deserves to be taken down a few notches. I thought it was fun seeing the hazing scene where Alejandro ended up mummified!

[mention]Volobond[/mention], as always is spot on. I don't blame Mike for letting Alejandro fall into that trap. Alejandro sounds like a real PWE, although I bet he'll look great in whatever bondage predicament the thieves place him in.

Not sure if Mike made the right decision, but I definitely understand his reasoning. Very much looking forward to seeing Alejandro put in his place and hopefully learn a lesson! I have a feeling these burglars aren't going to go easy roping up this cop! Maybe they'll even go easy on Mike for not alerting Alejandro!

Also, I wouldn't mind seeing officer santucci in the ropes either.... just sayin...

gag1195 wrote: 3 years ago Also, I wouldn't mind seeing officer santucci in the ropes either.... just sayin...

As a writer, I often incorporate reader suggestions into the tale. Sometimes characters who are only intended to be one-offs become something more. Perhaps I can whip up something for the good officer in the chapters to come...

I have a particular weakness for those scenes where freedom seems tantalisingly close but the would-be rescuer finds a reason not to free the captive (maybe there isn't time, maybe he deserves it, maybe "it's safer for you to stay out of the way for now"). This is, in some ways, the opposite scenario - captive decides his rescuer deserves what's coming to him - and I love it!

Santucci's definitely an intriguing side-character. I'm not sure whether I'd like to see him roped up himself or stumbling on the scene and finding a way to add to his rookie's humiliation...

Santucci's definitely an intriguing side-character. I'm not sure whether I'd like to see him roped up himself or stumbling on the scene and finding a way to add to his rookie's humiliation...

I'm coming down on seeing him roped up too, [mention]Straitjacketed[/mention].

Santucci -- for all the hazing and giving it to the rookie for being a PWE -- has Alejandro's back. They're partners, and Santucci being the older veteran will watch out for him. So, deep down, Santucci has an inkling that Alejandro was onto something -- something fishy was going on on in that warehouse. He might have tailed his partner, saw him go into the warehouse, and he decides to back up his partner. If Santucci stumbles into the break room and sees his partner and friend all tied up -- yeah, he'll give the business to the rookie. But he had better watch his own back!

KidnappedCowboy wrote: 3 years agoSantucci -- for all the hazing and giving it to the rookie for being a PWE -- has Alejandro's back. They're partners, and Santucci being the older veteran will watch out for him.

For sure - although I'd quite like it if Santucci decided the best way to help his partner avoid similar mishaps in the future was to provide some one-on-one "hostage training".

wataru14 wrote: 3 years ago

gag1195 wrote: 3 years ago Also, I wouldn't mind seeing officer santucci in the ropes either.... just sayin...

As a writer, I often incorporate reader suggestions into the tale. Sometimes characters who are only intended to be one-offs become something more. Perhaps I can whip up something for the good officer in the chapters to come...

I shall say as well, seeing Officer Santucci roped and gagged... mmm, one hundred percent yes!