19. A morning of fun

“Today you're going to be spies for two rival corporations, lads. A new device has been designed that could change the world as we know it. This water-fuelled engine could solve all energy problems on earth, and the first company to market it will thrive for decades. The plans were hidden in Saint Sebastian house by the inventor. It consists in five separate sheets that need to be gathered to build a prototype.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lewis sniggered.

Travis pretended he had not been interrupted. He looked at the six contestants sitting in a circle in front of him in the TV room they'd started their little ceremony the evening before. All in their football uniform, their rucksacks orderly laid next to them, ready for the first big battle.

“You were hired as 'consultants' by the two biggest corporations in the world, Microtough and Commander Electric. It is of vital importance that they acquire the machine first. You know you've got to get the plans before other 'consultants' to get the reward from the company. You may bring others under control by pulling out the scarf stuck in their waistband. Once your scarf is taken, you 'faint' for thirty seconds. No cheating on this. The person who gets captured counts up to thirty before he moves or does anything. There's no actual sanctuary until you report to me with all five sheets. My room is the transmitting room, once at least one guy comes in with the five papers, the game's over. The whole team doesn't have to report, but extra points will be given if you do. Any questions?”

“Uh, yes… Can we go anywhere in and out of the building?”

Billy wanted to make sure the strategy he'd talked about with his friends the night before would be fair play.

“No place in the building is out of bounds as long as a door is not locked. No going outside, though, limits have to be set for a first game. Of course, no hitting or kicking, you've got to use your wits, but otherwise, you may do whatever you want. Our 'Geneva Convention' rules that prisoners should be well tended, so no one should suffocate or bleed, but I guess that's it for rules.” Travis added with a faint smile.

The morning had been busy. Breakfast in the prefects' quarters had been quiet; meaningful looks were exchanged but no mention of the previous night events had been made. Keith expected some innuendo from Lewis, who was unexpectedly cheerful and pleasant. This made it yet more suspicious. Each boy had a rucksack with their individual lunch, six coils of rope, and some sort of first aid kit: gauze, cotton wool, and surgical tape. Plus a few scarves just in case.

“Everybody ready? The Microtough team is Billy, Cowboy and Benedict, the Commander Electric Crew is Lewis, Fred and Philip.”

“He! He! They're not with Microtough, they're just Microp…” Lewis tentatively taunted.

“Come on, Lewis!” Travis rebuked him. “Bear with me until I'm done. You have fifteen minutes to discuss a strategy. The game starts when the bell rings.”

Billy looked at Philip. He was surprised at the teams, for he had thought it would be the newbies against Lewis' crew. They had discussed The Plan with Philip the night before. A stare in his direction and an appropriate facial expression got the question of the possible betrayal across. Philip made sure no one was looking, and made the sign with his thumb and index finger into an O, and mouthed the words “No worries, mate.” Now he'd have to trust Ben not to defect to the other side.

“OK, lads, you have until dusk to complete the mission. If no team manages to find all five parts of the plan, I'll count five points per piece you have, plus three points per prisoner if you've made any!”

“Let's go my team,” Lewis said as he stood up, “we don't really need all this time to establish plans ensuring a victory, but the faster we crush our opponents, the better.” Billy, Benedict and Keith just gave Lewis some mean looks. He could brag all he wanted, they would have him pay for such arrogance. They knew Lewis well enough; Billy grinned inwardly thinking of his face if they could get his plan to work. The “Microtough” team joined to set a course of action. Keith and Benturned to Billy, waiting for ideas. “You heard how points would be counted? So, what really matters at first is to...”

Travis left the room and went back upstairs, looking at the timer on his watch to make sure he'd ring the bell in time.

Fred followed Lewis' instructions, and as the bell rang, the team split in search of the plans. He was to go back to the TV room, as they all assumed that was one place where Travis would have hidden one; Lewis was to investigate the dorm, and Philip the second floor classrooms. There had been little discussion about splitting up; if it was more dangerous, it could ensure a quicker win by fulfilling the mission faster. Once they'd have the papers, they'd take care of the other team. The halls were eerily silent, and Fred put one foot before the other slowly but steadily, being perfectly silent himself.

He reached the door to the TV room, and pushed it ajar; he stuck his head inside. The coast was clear so he entered and started searching. After five minutes, he found a plan inside the DVD sleeve of the movie they had watched the day before. That was an easy one. He put it in his rucksack and headed back upstairs, where they were supposed to meet in the second floor bathroom twenty minutes after the split.

He was going for the doorknob when he saw it turn. He barely had time to throw himself inside a little offset two feet left of the door. He was invisible from someone who wouldn't step in completely inside. Holding his breath, he heard steps muffled by the carpet. Benedict got within his vision range, turning his back to him. A leap and a good aim at the scarf trailing from the shorts waistline, and the deal was made. “Got you!” he whispered to his friend, who reluctantly “fainted”, and lay face down on the floor.

Fred removed Ben's rucksack from his shoulders and got some ropes out. No need to waste his own supplies. He bound his hands behind his back and stuffed a balled up scarf in his mouth before plastering a couple strips of tape to seal his lips. Having counted aloud as he proceeded, both boys knew that Ben was to regain his senses.

“And now we need to put you away for good,” he said as he helped Ben to stand up. He led him towards a closet at the right hand side of the room despite a feeble attempt at resisting, grabbing a chair on the way. He undertook to bind him to it inside the closet, with swift and precise gestures. Once Ben was closely united to the piece of furniture, he finished the job by tying a scarf over his taped mouth, “So you can't spit it out, my friend.” He patted him on his head. “Stay here, I'll be back soon, once we've found the plans and we've turned your little friends into roasts!” He closed the door, plunging Ben into darkness. Checking his watch, he saw he was late already for the appointment, so he rushed out the door, much less cautiously than he had entered.

Fred saw the two figures from the corner of his eyes, but it was too late: he had stepped outside the room with Billy and Cowboy on each side, flattened against the wall, their rucksacks in one hand, and Keith had already snatched his tail away. There was a quiet “Darn!”, but the rules meant he could not warn his friends that he'd been caught, so he got on his knees and lay down. Hands tied behind his back, a quick gagging, and there were still fifteen seconds to go, so Cowboy and Billy caught Fred under his armpits and dragged him back inside the TV room.

“Where did you hide Ben, you bastard!” Cowboy asked. Billy hushed him. “As if he'll answer, the yellow-livered fiend... And I think I know...”

He went to the closet, which was the only possible hideout in the room; as he approached some faint sounds could be heard, and they definitely were of the mmphing kind. Billy opened the door triumphantly, revealing a squirming Ben.

Ten minutes later, Fred had taken the place of his friend. The three accomplices had managed a very well coordinated job, the former prisoner entertaining his liberators with his ideas of what he would do to Fred on their return, with of course the rest of the team well trussed-up. Fred was less than thrilled by the idea of getting his butt warmed up by a masterly spanking, and he wasn't sure Ben bluffed.

“We'll see to this in time, Ben,” Billy laughed, “but for now we have to win. We've got two plans with the one Cowboy found in the ancient Greek vase in the entrance hall and Fred's. Three more to go, but we've got to be careful; I'd be surprised if our prisoner hasn't gone missing already.”

“We gotta stick to your first idea, Billy, and go for the prisoners. Once we've got all three of them, it'll be easy to search the House.”

“Right Cowboy, d'you think we should torture Fred to find out where his mates are?” Ben proposed with a big grin on his face.

“Nah,” Billy replied, “it would be a waste of time, and he could lie, and if they're up on something, they'll have moved anyway. You'll have your fun when we win. For now we'll do as we did first, you'll scout the place, Ben. We found out they'd split, so we might stick closer, so they won't have time to tie you up if they catch you. Let's go.”

Meanwhile, in the second floor bathroom, decisions were being made.

“This damn fool must have gotten caught,” Lewis pondered, “so it's time for Plan B.”

Philip looked at him intently, mesmerized by the feral grin that brightened up Lewis' handsome face.

“We need to be extra careful and display the ancestral sense of strategy the Fatbinds possess.”

Philip didn't ask how he would act accordingly, not being a Fatbind; yet he wondered.

“We have to design a cunning ruse to catch them little blighters. We've got one of these bloody sheets only: I rightfully assumed Travis would hide one behind the Saint Sebastian painting at the entrance of the dorm, I mean, the arrows pointed to the good direction, didn't they? We may safely assume our opponents got at least one too. We also still have plenty of time, so we can't lose. Here's how we're going to manage...”

Ben was dutifully playing his pilot fish role. Tiptoeing his way along the hall on the second floor, he moved forward, ears and eyes wide-open to detect any unfriendly presence. He reached the landing, after checking no one was ambushed behind the swing door; as he had gone across the whole floor without any unpleasant encounter, he was now to proceed to the dorm. He started climbing the steps, unaware that he no longer had protectors tailing him...

It had all gone very quick. As he turned a corner, Keith had felt a hand clamping over his mouth and pulling him backwards, another one ripping his scarf from his shorts. “Sweet dreams, my prince,” the mocking voice of Lewis had hissed in his ear almost inaudibly. He was then dragged inside a classroom, where Philip was waiting for his team leader. Lewis maintained the handgag while Philip, sitting on his thighs, took care of binding wrists and ankles. He was barely done when the thirty seconds were over. Keith started mewing inside his captor's hand, in the hope that Billy, who was a few feet ahead of him, would hear he had gotten caught.

“Our Cowboy is being quite the rebel, Phil! Do him a favour, and tie the knots tight, he could hurt himself if he twists around too much.”

“No worries, Lewis, we'll restrain him properly, we wouldn't want anything nasty happening to him.”

And indeed Phil handled a thorough trussing up, while Lewis held his head, his mouth well shut and any call out for help reduced to some desperately subdued mewing.

They then sat him up, Lewis still holding his grip.

“I'll need a hand silencing the little scoundrel, he's going to try yelling for help.”

Keith indeed had half a second to shout “Bil…” at the top of his lungs as Lewis removed his hand. Then he realized that getting Billy to come would be tantamount to having him rush into the lion's den. It was too late for regrets anyway, and he could only hope that Phil's swift move to cram a ball of material inside his mouth had been enough to make his yelling go unnoticed. But still, steps of someone running outside the door were heard.

“Billy!” Phil yelled, in a very good impersonation of Cowboy's husky voice, which had started cracking a few months previous. Lewis and Keith turned to Philip, who had never demonstrated this particular talent. Philip smirked, and both he and Lewis were already standing when the door flung open.

Billy boldly entered the room, ready to take on both foes at a time. The three fighters froze, feet apart, knees bent, arms wide open, as if defending the ground in a basket ball game.

“Two against one, Billy Boy, but watch out, Phil, his special friend is our prisoner; this could make our brave Billy much more motivated!”

Lewis turned towards his own teammate and winked, and this split instant of inattention was the only hope Billy had to try his chance. He dove towards them, aiming at the scarves that were hanging down between their legs just above knees height. His left hand caught Philip's scarf and he felt it coming, but Lewis' slipped out of his grip.

He was face down on the floor, and Philip kneeled down next to him, knocked out, as Lewis had already pounced on him and caught the scarf that had been jeopardized by the audacious move.

“Sorry, but you're no match for any of us, least of all two!”

Lewis was already at work, gathering Billy's wrists behind his back. Billy felt something was wrong, somehow, and voiced his concern: “Your scarf didn't come off, are you sure that...”

“Hush! You've fainted, do you remember?”

This prompted Lewis into gagging him following the common procedure. His elbows were now being looped with rope. And the moment he “came to his senses” coincided with Philip's recovering, and his giving a hand to Lewis. So he soon shared Cowboy's fate.

“Now is time to make a decision, Phil. Shall we go and free Fred, or manage to capture the last of our young Microstuff miscreants.” The need for advice was purely rhetorical, as Lewis went on elaborating on his scheme. “I'd say that Ben is the chivalric kind, and that he would certainly rush to rescue his friends in distress... So, will you please, Phil?”

A grin lightened the latest recruit's face. “Indeed Sir, I will…”

Ben knew the call came from the second floor. If Cowboy needed him, it meant another one of the Commander Electric team had been captured, and the idea of gloating over a helpless Lewis, or of handling a powerless Philip warmed him up. As he got into the main second floor hall, he found none of the expected frantic activity following one of his fellow fighters' feats. He moved forward with all his senses wide-awake, asking in nothing more than a whisper: “Cowboy? Billy?”

He had passed the bathroom door when he heard it being slammed open. He didn't linger on to find out who it was and sprinted forward, only to fall, twenty feet further, into the tight embrace of Philip who had stepped from a dark recess. His arms were locked to his sides by a grip that he could not fight, and then he felt the soft rubbing of his scarf being dragged out of his shorts. He quit struggling, as the rules required.

“I'd never have thought this would be this easy! All three of these Microjerks! We've won, let's get him together with his friends.” They kept him standing as they imprisoned his arms behind his back with ropes, then marched him into the classroom, on the floor of which Keith and Billy were writhing, sitting back to back .

“It seems our Cowboy and his cow were making an attempt at escape,” Lewis commented as he approached the pair. “And they might even have been successful had we not come back in time.”

Keith's left hand appeared from behind his back, but such impetus was cooled down by Lewis' cautious approach who grabbed the fist with two hands and went into what Keith had to admit was a rather well done arm bar. He grunted in pain as he ended up facing Billy, his head touching his knees, and Lewis looping his wrists together in rope again. Then Billy's bonds were checked out and tightened since he was on the verge of freeing himself also.

Ten minutes later, the three Microtough consultants were properly bound and gagged, rather tightly tied to chairs.

“I'll finish the job, Phil, go get Fred, he must be somewhere between the TV room and here.”

“Yes, General!”

Billy could not help giggling under the various layers that composed his gag, which drew a scornful look from Lewis. Philip left, and Lewis went back to his charges, having pulled a roll of duct tape from his own rucksack.

“I don't take in too kindly at being mocked by losers, and we'll see who gets the last laugh. Let's make these appendages of yours helpless to start with,” he said as he wrapped their hands with the grey sticky stuff. He then reinforced the ropes at the ankles, knees and elbows with tape. This time, escape would take much longer, if it were possible at all. “This is all settled, now, victory is ours.”

Fred and Philip entered upon this triumphant statement. Fred beamed at the sight. He focused on Ben. “I wonder who's in for a masterly spanking, now?”

© Copyright Bondwriter 2008

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