The room Keith and Billy slept in would be theirs after the break. After putting on their pyjamas and slipping under the eiderdowns, they had talked for a little while, as they both were really glad to have moved to Saint Sebastian, and all the great fun it promised to deliver; but they had quickly fallen asleep, not willing to compromise the next day's adventures by antagonizing Travis. They had whispered their hopes and plans for the big day, and soon drifted off into slumber.

A couple hours later, the door slowly opened, and three figures tiptoed their way into their room, the dim light of the hall's night lights forcing them to be very cautious not to bump into anything if they wanted to achieve their goal without waking anybody up. Their hands were quite full of the required wares, and their plan had been carefully plotted. They were already one third successful, but they needed to get this rate up to one hundred percent. The ghostly figures eerily glided through the almost complete darkness towards Billy who was peacefully sleeping in the lower bed.

Half an hour later, Keith was jolted out of his slumber by three pairs of hands grabbing him. They were real flesh and blood, and didn't belong to supernatural creatures. Three headlamps were turned on, casting their dim light over the shape of the boy dreaming of victories at football and TuGs and basking in the glory along with Billy. From there on the three boys moved very fast. They threw the quilt away so as to have access to their target. They pinned him face down, with his ankles and wrists in a tight grip, and a hand covering his mouth with its counterpart clutching his long hair at the back of his head. The person handgagging him whispered his warning. His voice gave his identity away as much as his tone did: “And three down! Please do not give us any grief, we have once again proved our superiority over you lousy football players. Darn, is it your skin that's greasy or do you drool when you sleep?”

Keith twitched around, offended by the remark, but the grip tightened, and Lewis counted to three. Keith was lifted from the mattress, and lowered down in the bed below. It was still slightly warm from his previous user, but it was empty, which meant Billy had already been taken care of. Lewis and the two other boys, whom Keith imagined rightly were his goons Fred and Ben jumped over the bed sitting on his calves, his lower back, Lewis sitting in the tight space left between Keith's and the bedhead. He didn't release the pressure, though he knew there were very few chances his prisoner would call out for help. Lewis had to admit --though only to himself-- that the latest recruits were no wimps. Thinking of which, he didn't want to leave the blond boy's brothers in TuGs on their own for too long.

“OK, let's wrap up Blondie into a tight little bundle. His cronies could catch a cold waiting for us.”

There was a grunt from Keith, who wondered what they had done to Billy. He tried to break free again, but he was no match against three opponents. He'd have his revenge on these cowards later on.

They had to exert all of their skill and coordination as Keith didn't really submit and wait, but they were well trained, and knew how to handle the situation and their captive. So ten minutes later he was well trussed up, with the proverbial rings of rope at the ankles, knees, waist and shoulder, his hands tied palm to palm. A ball of cotton and a scarf silenced him too.

“We're going to take you now, so don't twitch around too much, or you might hurt yourself,” Ben's voice meekly advised. Once again, he was certainly forced to run Lewis' plan. Keith quickly understood why he was being told this, as he felt an upwards move. They had tied rope handles from the circles at his ankles, waist and shoulders, so they could carry him face down as some piece of luggage. Indeed wriggling and having one of them let go of the rope would certainly turn out badly for him. He had no taste for getting a broken nose, so he relaxed and this time decided to make it as easy as possible for his captors.

They carried him down the corridor, their back turned to Travis' room, and once on the landing, after having cautiously opened and closed the swing doors, which was no small feat with a long bundle in tow, they stood Keith up. The group no longer was on some wood floor, but on tiles that did not creak. Lewis took a key out of his pocket, and opened the door Keith knew was this of a large storage room for the cleaning staff. Bowing to Keith, and letting his arm swing to show him in, Lewis emphatically announced: “Make space for his Highness Cowboy the Umpteenth, King of Prisoners, Emperor of Captives, and Duke of Losers!”

Fred put a hand on his shoulder and the trussed up lad obediently hopped into the storeroom.

He could not see his fellow prisoners right away; fifteen feet away from the door, a heavy red curtain hung. Keith thought he could see it moving ever so slightly. It could be stirred by what or who was behind rather than by the little air moved by the door that was softly closed behind the little troop. Lewis stepped in front of Keith, whose motion was rather hampered by the thorough binding.

“A bunny rabbit, yes, why not, though I have other things in mind for you, my dear friend, things that will be much more in character. But for now, let me introduce to you the two other members of the cast.”

He went into a precious series of moves that had him whirling around, grabbing the curtain and pulling it off to reveal not only a trussed up Billy, as Keith expected, but another captive yet facing his captured friend.

It was difficult to identify him at first glance, for his face was hidden by what looked like a big horse head. Nevertheless, who else but Philip could be underneath the tight black and yellow footie kit? Billy had been stripped of his pyjamas' jacket, and he had been equipped with a dark blue satiny cap that bore pointed ears and horns.

Both boys were tied to some thick lead pipes that went from the floor to the ceiling. There were two rows of poles in all, five feet apart from each other, and Philip and Billy were face to face at the furthest end. This left four pipes to which Keith could be bound.

“My, my, Puck, you're unreformable! You had to turn our good Philip Bottom into a donkey. As if he couldn't make an ass of himself without any help,” Lewis gloated.

It clicked right away into Cowboy's head, as he joined the reproving grunts to Lewis's mockery, that these were some of the props used the year before for a staging of A Midsummer Night's Dream. So Billy was Puck and Philip was Nick Bottom. Considering Philip, Keith thought he was aptly named, and that it certainly was no coincidence that Lewis had gotten this idea.

“One good thing for our two actors is that they don't need to know their lines, do they?” Lewis remarked. A cross of white tape covered Billy's mouth, and Lewis moved next to him to examine the adhesive bandage.

He patted Billy's head gently, “Good little devil, you didn't try to remove it, you understood you wouldn't be able to call anyone anyway.” He turned to Cowboy whose eyes were blazing with anger. “Not to worry, my blond little friend, this is a makeshift gag, to remind these nice fellows that we caught them and that they have to abide to our rules. Not to say that making sure they do not talk to each other makes it less likely that they help each other to get free. I say less likely, because I must say we did a good job to start with, didn't we lads?” He turned to Fred and Ben who smiled approvingly.

“As we had to leave them on their own for a while, we kept safe, didn't we? We wouldn't want to break the rules, would we, Cowboy?”

Keith nodded, rather surprised at having been called by his name rather than by some derogatory nickname.

“So, what role should we give you in our little play? Let me think…” Lewis caressed his chin thoughtfully, and frowned as if he were racking his brains over a very complicated problem.

“Hmmptmf!” Keith said, but Lewis, who'd perfectly understood it meant “Knock it off!” looked quizzically at him, his wide doe eyes more innocent than ever.

“Humputtuf? I'm afraid there's no character with this name.”

“Oberon?” Ben suggested.

“Nah. Puck's Oberon's servant, isn't he? That wouldn't work with these two. Plus Oberon is a King; well, the King of Fairies, but what about having our straw-haired short friend play Titania? Queen of Fairies? Quite adequate if you ask me.”

The frustrated grunts accompanied the silly teenage sneers that followed the taunting. Of course, this sort of innuendo by Lewis was a perfect example of the pot calling the kettle black, but it was perfectly in character. It was even surprising that following the sneaky attack he had not called Cowboy a coward. He and Billy were getting used to his weird sense of humour, and Philip was catching up fast.

Actually, Titania was the only character they'd thought about, since it was the only costume there was at hand. Lewis had a very clear idea of what he wanted when they had gone to gather the costumes from the theatre's dressing room. Why Lewis would want to enhance his plan with fancy costumes, only he knew. It matched his taste for sophistication, though, and now it was clear it added to the humiliation of the newbies. Fred picked a long green silk tunic from a shelf, and soon Keith wore the garment, bare chest underneath, and he had joined his friends, next to Billy and facing Philip. The pole tie was thorough; there was just a little slack at the elbows, that he would exploit were they given an occasion to attempt escaping.

The fiendish trio led by Lewis, explaining they had to make sure they would remain very silent, went on applying their knowledge in the art of gagging. Well-stuffed mouths, tightly sealed lips were covered by tight silk scarves wrapping the lower faces inescapably. A small cushion was put behind Cowboy and Billy's heads, and the scarves were then tied once more behind the pole, preventing them from looking at each other. The donkey head was put back over Philip's head, so none of the three prisoners could look at another's face.

“Good, very good,” Lewis sniggered, “but not enough of a challenge yet… Let's give them a bit of a harder time, lads, we wouldn't want our regular Houdinis to get away too fast, would we?”

More rope was displayed, and Ben, Fred and Lewis each went to a prisoner. They did a few turns above the elbows with the middle of the rope, then cinched it together in a figure eight, before they pulled both ends over a pipe that ran just below the ceiling. The three captives wondered what was next, especially since their tormentors were strangely quiet. But as their right legs were freed, the left one being solidly tied back, and that their right ankle was grabbed and lifted, it all became painfully clear what was to happen: Billy's ankle was linked to Keith's elbows, Keith's to Philip's and Philip's to Billy. There was no slack in the ropes, so letting one's foot drop even a little put strain on the partner's elbows immediately.

“You're so well tied up that you could actually go back to sleep, but you see, our little assault aims at having you a bit tired tomorrow. I want to win the game, you see. So now you've really got to try to escape if you want to catch a little sleep before morning. You know me, I'm all for fair play, so from now on we aren't going to touch the ropes. One of us will stay to guard you, and we'll take turns. I'll take the first shift. Who's next?”

“It's me,” Ben said, less than enthusiastically. He saw this as a strange way to gain an advantage, since they wouldn't get a good night of sleep either. Lewis' plans had always been fun so far, so suggesting otherwise had been out of question.

Hence Fred and Ben withdrew. Lewis pulled a comfortable armchair in front of the two rows of poles, to keep a keen eye on his captives. He made conversation with his three guests, his oral skills allowing him to find the most disparaging taunts. Being prevented from replying to his ceaseless babble, all three boys focused on trying to escape. Keeping one's leg up indeed made it all the more difficult. But the subtle twitching and squirming reached its goal, and the various coils of rope were all yielding some slack, a little at the time. Lewis was reminding them that they would have to stay tied to their poles for at least the thirty-sixth time when Ben came to relieve his friend.

Ben sat in the armchair, with Lewis closing the door with a last whisper in which the words “pathetic” and “hopeless” were combined in yet a fresh ungracious manner. Ben was much less talkative, and he managed to find some sort of blanket after ten minutes, that he pulled up over himself. Being able to watch only from the corner of their eyes, Keith and Billy couldn't see how sleepy he looked when he came in. But his breathing soon betrayed the fact he had fallen asleep. So much for safety.

Billy suddenly felt his elbows pulled upwards. He groaned from the discomfort, and looked ahead; at least Philip could see his annoyed look, even though he could not respond. But soon he felt some slack in his elbows. Philip's ankle was out of the rope, and he saw some rope hanging down, as Philip had managed to extricate himself from the most crucial knots. Keith had picked up on this too, and he made sure to keep his ankle up not to hinder Philip's escape.

It took less than three minutes before Philip pulled off his donkey head. He didn't remove his gag, but went straight to Billy to untie his ankle so he could put his foot down. Philip and Billy then set on freeing Keith, and five minutes later, they removed their gags. Philip cast a glance to the form sleeping in the armchair.

“Shall we?” he asked with a mischievous smile.

“Heck, yes!” Cowboy said, coiling some rope back, and about to pounce on the unknowing Ben.

“Hold on, we're not going to fall as low as Lewis. There are better ways to get even. Revenge is a dish best eaten cold. Let's go to bed, we need to be in good shape tomorrow.” They silently went outside and back into the dorm.

So it was only at four thirty, when Fred came to replace Ben, that the escape was noticed. They thought it best not to wake Lewis up, since he'd asked that they do so to set the prisoners free to take a picture, not to see they'd fled away. And who knew what he would have them do?

© Copyright Bondwriter 2008

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