HallKogan presents
A Suikoden production
The next Samantha Storm adventure
**Colombia, South America**
*2:47 pm*
Angela Blaze had sauntered into the bar a little over an hour ago. She didn’t look herself. For one, she wasn’t wearing her tactical gear. The light blue shirt sleeved canvas shirt, khaki pants, and hiking boots were not something she would wear even when she wasn’t working. A long blonde wig covered her firey red hair.
As a matter of fact, she wasn’t herself either. For the duration of this mission, she was Laura Kincaid, investigative reporter.
“Whoo-eee! I thought it got hot in Texas, but we ain’t got nothin’ on y’all.” She suppressed a laugh, acting like a stereotypical Texan was part of her cover.
She took off her hat and fanned herself. As her long blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders, many of the men looked up in her direction.
“Get a lady a drink will ya?” She said, to the bartender. He looked a little like Danny Trejo. Angie has briefly considered asking for an autograph.
A tall man, carrying a glass of what she guessed to be tequila and lime by the smell of his breath, strode up to her.
“New in town seniorita?” He asked.
She whistled. “Well ain’t you a tall drink of water. Laura Kincaid, investigative reporter.” Angie said, flicking the press credentials badge clipped to her shirt.
“Could you tell a girl where I could find out a fella named El Demonio?”
One man, sitting at the end of the bar, spit out his drink at the name. Another man near the door did his best to edge out without being noticed, he broke into a sprint once he hit the street. That told her she was in the right place.
Angela flashed back to this mission briefing from yesterday evening.
**Section Seven**
*7:38 pm*
“Walk around out in the open, ask around about El Demonio, make sure your face is seen, act sloppy.” Fox said during the briefing.
“Right,” Angie rolled her eyes. “act like a bumbling second banana, get caught, and wait for big sis to come save me right?”
“If we send Samantha in, they’ll know something’s going down. They’ll be too guarded, and we’ll never find the place.” Fox said.
“Angie, we both know you’re better than that, but they don’t. They’ll assume you’re inexperienced, and we’ll use that to our advantage.” Samantha said, placing her hand on Angie’s shoulder supportively.
Angie sighed, she hated acting like a rookie, but everyone knows the easiest way to get in is to let someone catch you. “Okay, I’m in. I’m dying to know why every other agency is pretending like these guys don’t exist.”
“That’s the missing piece of the puzzle.” Fox said, rubbing her temples. “We have a name, El Demonio. But I refuse to believe nobody knows anything. No files, no reports, nothing in their bank accounts showing that they’re being paid to look the other way.”
Samantha could see that this was irritating Fox to no end. They’d never had this much trouble getting intel before. And the best plan was to walk into a trap with your eyes wide open.
**Colombia, South America**
*3:05 pm*
A small group of men made a rather obvious attempt to cut off her escape route from the bar. One of them stood to the left of the bar, a glance sent the bartender to the back. Another one stood casually by the door, pretending to enjoy the breeze blowing in from the street. The other two sat at tables behind her.
“Well, looks like I struck oil.” Angela thought, a little smirk crossing her ruby lips.
“Senorita Blaze, would you mind coming with us?” One of them said, drawing close, but staying far enough away to keep from getting struck by a surprise attack.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about sugar. My names Kincaid, Laura Kincaid.” She unclipped her badge, and showed him while sipping her drink.
He grinned, “Apparently there has been a mistake. If you will come with me, we will be happy to escort you back to your hotel.”
“Darn right there’s been a mistake. I sure would like to meet this Señorita Blaze, is she a superhero or something?” Angie said cooly.
One of the men stood up from the table, but the man next to Angie, glared at him, and he sat down immediately.
“I’m sure this will only take a moment, if you come now there won’t be any trouble.” He said, a glint in his eye as he said trouble. To someone without her training this would be a fight or flight situation, but he was about to do exactly what she wanted.
“Well, since you asked so nice. Are you sure it won’t be long? I have a deadline.” She said, finishing her drink. She reached into her pocket to pay, but he beat her to it putting a few bills onto the bar.
Angie fought the urge to say “jackpot” as they led her to the jeep outside. She could have easily taken out two of them before the others could react. It would be a brief scuffle, especially bringing one along at gunpoint for information. But that wasn’t part of the plan.
During the ride, Angie picked up snippets of the men conversing. One of them made a phone call, as the others spoke to each other in Spanish. One word Angie picked up of the conversation was “cosquillas” her mind searched for the meaning. But the jeep slowed and came to a halt.
After it came to a stop, the lead man spoke up. “El Demonio sends his apologies senorita, he is occupied at the moment. But we’ll be taking you to someone who will be happy to talk to you.”
Blaze could pick up on the cocky tone of his voice. She wanted to slug the condescending creep. “Stick to the plan Angie...” she thought. The tracking device would tell Section Seven her location. The hidden communicator would record everything and send it straight to home base. And then there was...
Her train of thought was derailed as she felt herself being picked up.
“What do you think you’re doing? Put me down right now!” Angela’s request fell on deaf ears.
Two of them held her arms, and began frisking her. As their hands roamed all over her shirt, looking for a wire or hidden recording device, their probing touches actually tickled.
“Hahahaha! Okay guys come on! Hehehehe... seriously, that tickles!” Under different circumstances, this might be fun, but she was on a mission.
The two in the front grabbed her legs, and began unlacing her boots. Her temper flared, and she pulled one socked foot free, and kicked the driver in the face. She heard the snap of a broken nose.
“Estúpida perra americana!” He yelped, holding his nose as it gushed blood. The lead man now held both her kicking legs tightly, and barked out orders to the other two.
Angela struggled to get her arms free, but couldn’t get any leverage. “Get the hell off me before I kick your...mmmph!”
The man with the busted nose held a rag over her face. She picked up the pungent scent of chloroform, and held her breath, kicking and pulling. The one holding her legs tickled the bottom of her foot, which caused her to gasp. Seconds later, she lost consciousness.
Angie awoke, unaware of how much time had passed. She opened her eyes and quickly assessed the situation. She was in a
small cell, it looked to be about 10x10. The walls were a about an inch thick. She reached out to touch them, undoubtedly reinforced somehow. There were narrow holes which allowed ventilation, but were too small to fit her fingers through. The floor was a metal grate, covered in what felt like velvet.
The cell itself was in the center of an office type of room. No windows, a single door. A table covered with what looked like padded leather. One wall had monitors wired into a computer.
The second thing Angela did was take stock of herself. Her boots and socks were gone. She only hoped they hadn’t discovered the tracking device in her boot, but she had to assume it’d been smashed. Hopefully they didn’t move her far from where they took them off.
Her sat-radio watch was gone too, which left her no way of calling for help. She also was barefoot, but the rest of her clothes were left on. Angie didn’t have time to think about why, she had to concentrate on keeping cool and doing what she came to do.
The door opened and a portly man walked in. “Well well well... Section Seven doesn’t think I’m worthy of Samantha’s attention anymore? I’m hurt.”
Angie felt a chill run down her spine. The man standing before her was Hugo Sexton, pervert extraordinaire. He had a serious thing for Sam, and every time he got his pudgy hands on her, she was put through the wringer. She didn’t want to stick around to find out what he had in store for her.
“Like your little cage? It’s my own personal design. That’s inch thick lexan, you won’t be getting out unless I let you out.” He pulled a remote from of his pocket, and waved it in front of her.
Blaze felt the chill melt away as he taunted her. She threw a kick at the wall, the soft sole of her bare foot thumped ineffectively against the cell. Despite not making contact, the coward stumbled backward, landing squarely on his oversized rump.
Angie couldn’t help but chuckle seeing the portly pervert trying to clamber back up off the floor.
“You wanna laugh at me?” Sexton said, now standing again, then pressed a button on the remote. “I’ll give you a reason to laugh.” Something below the floor of the cell began to make a whirring noise.
“Oh what the... hahahahaha!” Angie’s expletive was cut off by hundreds of soft bristles spinning and vibrating through the grate under her feet. It tickled like crazy, and there wasn’t any way to escape from the ticklish sensation.
“Like my little toy?” Sexton teased, as Angie hopped around trying desperately to keep from being tickled. “I don’t doubt you’re in great physical condition, but even you have your limits. Eventually you’ll drop from exhaustion, then every inch of your body touching the floor will be relentlessly tickled.”
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. There was no way she could keep this up for long. Having to laugh was preventing her from filling her lungs with air. Angie kept thrusting her knees up, as if she were jogging in place, and looked for a way out.
Sexton sat down in a chair to watch her. “You could strip off your clothes and stand on them I suppose. He said, as his hand drifted toward his crotch.
“Fuhuhuhhuhhuhhuhk you!” Angie laughed, trying desperately to keep her feet off the floor. There was no way she was going to strip for this pig, she’d pass out from being tickled first.
Then as quickly as it started, the tickling bristles stopped. Angela dropped to her knees sweating and tired. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air.
“Now that you’ve gotten a little taste of what this can do, maybe you’ll be open to cooperation.” Sexton said.
“I’m listening...” She answered, she had to buy time as she got her strength back.
“Good.” He grinned, “I may not have been able to break Samantha in the past, but with device that can break anyone given enough time.” Hugo paced around the cell, eyeing Angela hungrily. He patted the wall of the cell as if it were his lover.
Angie watched him with her teeth gritted, she didn’t take her eyes off him. “And I do mean anyone. Shall I show you?”
He strode over to the computer, and after a few seconds, the multiple screens flashed to life. On every screen, was variations on the same scene.
Women whose ages seemed to range from early twenties, to late forties trapped in the cell that Angela found herself in. They danced, hopped, laughed and fainted as the floor relentlessly tickled them.
“You’ve probably all been wondering why nobody comes after El Demonio? Well this is why. Everybody has family somewhere, Demonio finds them, and brings them to me to break. Once they do, they go home. After their husbands or even fathers agree to look the other way.”
Angela’s mouth opened in shock. Torturing innocent civilians was disgusting. Was there nothing this pig wouldn’t stoop to? And now she was going to be the latest. She would be used as bait to lure Samantha here.
Angie was sure that both she and Sam would give their lives before compromising Section Seven. But what if they found about Sam’s cousin? Dear God, that poor kid.
“Let me make something clear to you.” Sexton sneered, as her turned his chair back to face her. “The guards who brought you here found that tracking device, perhaps not as quickly as I would prefer.”
He shrugged, then continued. “They might find you, but I guarantee it won’t be soon enough. You’ll break my dear, and when you do you’ll give me everything I want. And I do mean everything.” Sexton looked her over, and licked his lips.
Angela leapt to her feet, and banged both firsts against the clear plastic wall. If she could get free, she’d wring his fat neck.
Hugo laughed, his gut wobbling under his shirt. “My you have quite the temper don’t you? You’re not as fun as Samantha, but I’ll enjoy myself all the same.” He pulled something out of his pocket, it was Angela’s communicator.
“I wonder if anyone at HQ is listening. Do you think they’ll send Samantha to rescue you?” He pressed the call button, then pressed the button on his remote that sent hundreds of soft whirring brushes through the grate into her feet.
Angela shouted, “Sam! Don’t do it, I’ll... hahahahahahaha noooohohohohoho!” Her unwilling dance started again. She tried everything to keep her feet away from those bristles. Jumping, hopping, trying to cling to the wall somehow. But none of it was any use.
Bouncing from foot to foot up on her toes only pushed the bristles in between them driving her crazy. Standing on her heels or the sides of her feet didn’t work either, the mechanism that raised or lowered them compensated. Every inch of the floor was tickling her feet relentlessly.
Angie tried to kick at the wall again, but it wouldn’t budge. She lost her balance and fell. The tickling floor prodded gently but firmly through her clothes, striking her side as soon as she hit the floor.
“Hahahahahahaha! Staaaahahahahap!” She cried out as the tickling sensation hit her body like an electric shock. Angie’s mind was lit up like a Christmas tree, thoughts flashing faster than she could organize them.
Did she dare try to get back on her feet, only to get exhausted from hopping and fall again? Should she roll onto her back? Was she as ticklish there? She couldn’t remember. It was getting hard to breathe, the ticklish laughter couldn’t pour out of her fast enough.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... OH GAAAAAHAHAD HAHAHAHAHAHA STAAHAHAHAHAPPP!!” She screamed in desperation with all the breath she could pull into her spasming body. The edge of Angela Blaze’s vision began to blur, and the last thought she had was wondering if someone could be tickled to death.
**SECTION SEVEN**
**The Office of Director Lydia Fox**
*6:17 pm*
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... OH GAAAAAHAHAD HAHAHAHAHAHA STAAHAHAHAHAPPP!!”
“And that’s the last thing we heard from Angela’s communication device before it cut out. It’s clear that she’s been captured, and it’s safe to say that she’s in trouble.” Lydia Fox said, letting out a deep breath as she broke the news.
The stunning young woman standing across her desk was none other than Samantha Storm. Section Seven’s best agent.
Samantha looked down, and crossed her arms, assessing the situation for a moment. She looked back at Fox, with concern in her beautiful but icy blue eyes.
“We all knew this would happen. But... I’ve never heard Angie scream like that.” She paused, and ran a hand through her silky jet black hair. “I’m going to get her.”
Angela Blaze, Angie was Sam’s best friend. They’ve been through a lot together, including tickling each other crazy. But this was different, between them it was a professional assessment, albeit a kinky one. Followed by a playful payback. But whatever Angie was going through right now was cold blooded torture.
Samantha did her best to suppress a shiver. To the untrained eye, she would have appeared perfectly cool. But Fox, who was not only her boss but a former agent herself, knew better.
“Samantha...” Lydia was using her boss tone. She paused, and changed to a more familiar one. “Sam, you should sit this one out. Let me send in Seven’s Deadly Sins and get her.”
It seemed that ever since word broke throughout the spy community that the young, but legendary agent was ticklish, it was a certainty that everyone would test just how ticklish she was. One by one her enemies tried to break her, and one by one they all failed. They couldn’t help but wonder if this would finally be the one she wouldn’t come back from.
Sam shook her head. “If you send in a larger force, they’ll take off. If they get away and take their computers with them we might never find out about El Demonio. Besides, we might not even have an exact fix on her location. Let me go, if I get in trouble, send in the extraction team.”
Fox answered, “I can’t think of anyone better. But you’ve got to remember to stick to the plan. Get in, do what you have to do, get out.”
Sam nodded. “Like I said when you briefed us on this mission... whatever it takes.” She turned to leave.
“You’re not going in alone.” Fox said, and Samantha stopped and turned around.
“I’ve arranged for some backup. He’s former Spec Ops, who now works in the private sector. Good man to have along if you wind up in a tight spot.
Sam opened her mouth to protest, she was used to be working alone. But Fox silenced her by raising her hand. “I know how good you are Sam, you’re the best. But the fact remains that this is quite possibly the most dangerous opponent we’ve ever gone up against. El Demonio has already found a way to compromise every law enforcement agency that’s gone up against him. It doesn’t hurt to hurt to have an ace up your sleeve.”
Samantha nodded, then spoke, “And what is the name of my ‘ace’?” Sam spat out the last word sarcastically. Just because she was ordered to work with backup, didn’t mean she’d have to like it.
“His name is El Gato.” Fox said, and with a few taps, called up his file on her monitor.
Samantha turned to look at the big screen, she was surprised to see a young, lean figure dressed in fatigues and tactical gear. Upon closer examination, she saw a handsome Latino with sharp eyes and a roguish grin. But this was a mission, not a date.
“El Gato? He calls himself the Cat, seriously?" Samantha was not convinced.
“An old callsign apparently." Fox, shrugged. “After I spoke to him, he insisted on leaving you this message.”
Fox took out her phone, and with a few taps, Samantha had a voice to put with the name.
“Hola Señorita Storm, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m looking forward to working together. I’ve sent Señora Fox the coordinates to El Rey where we’ll be meeting. Adiós!”
“Terrific...” Samantha said, “I’m risking my life to rescue my best friend from an enemy I know next to nothing about, and I’m teaming up with Puss In Boots.”
“Then I guess that makes you Shrek.” Fox added dryly.
**Somewhere in Mexico**
A cloud of dust swept past Samantha Storm as she brought her black Ducati Streetfighter to a stop in front of a roadside bar. She pulled off her helmet and shook out her long black hair.
One leg swung over the side, putting down the kickstand as she dismounted with all the grace of a dancer. The golden light of the sun glinted off her lightning bolt belt buckle.
A weather beaten sign on the roof read El Rey. “Looks like the intel is good so far.” Sam thought as she crossed the dirt and gravel that passed for a parking lot. The heads of several drunk men turned to watch her walk by. Undoubtedly admiring her lithe dancer’s figure striding by in her leather jacket, jeans, and boots. Her model level looks weren’t exactly a turn off either.
She pushed open the swinging doors and looked for her target. Her eyes moved from
one patron to another. Finally they set upon one man who sat in a quiet corner, sipping a glass of milk. A roll of her eyes later, and she was making her way toward him. Part of her wondered if this was an elaborate prank.
“This seat taken?” Sam said, and reached for the nearest chair. The man kicked the chair in such a way that sent it slid across the floor and spun around so that the seat was directly behind her.
“Señorita Storm?” He asked her, looking up from his glass, that voice was unmistakable.
“El Gato.” She replied, sitting down cautiously.
“I understand your hesitation señorita, caution is essential for people that do what we do.” He said, and motioned toward the bartender.
Sam cocked her eyebrow. “You do know that’s exactly the kind of lie someone luring me into a trap would tell me.”
“Yes it is. However from what Señora Fox has told me, your friend is in trouble, and the time is would take to earn that trust is something we simply do not have.”
The waitress brought over a glass for Sam, she caught a whiff of a familiar mixed drink. “Chilled vodka, with soda and lime.” She said, with a slight smile. “You read the file Fox sent.”
He nodded, “And I can safely assume you’ve read mine. I’m not charging any fees for this mission.”
“Not one of monetary value anyhow.” Sam said, taking a sip of her drink. It was mixed perfectly, and didn’t have the aftertaste of any drugs she could identify.
Gato lifted his glass, “Before we talk business, I wonder if you’ll join me in a toast. It’s not every day I meet someone as beautiful as you.”
Sam felt like rolling her eyes. How many women did he give that line to?
“To our mission, may it be a success. To your friend, may she be unharmed. And to us, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
He tilted his glass, she clinked hers, and they drank.
He noted the look on her face at his toast, and smiled. “A poet, I am not. But I have plenty of other skills that more than compensate.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Which is why you have the reputation of a womanizer.” Sam smirked, she’d read his file alright. All of it.
“I am who I am. You need help, I am at your service.” He stood up, and bowed before looking up, with a smirk of his own. “When this mission is over, one night together.”
Samantha drew in a breath to tell him to go take a long walk off a short pier. But she didn’t have time to bargain. Angie was in serious trouble, and the plan could go completely to hell without his help.
“One date, and that’s it... if we survive this, you won’t be disappointed. She said, then with one swift motion, she drew one of his blades from its sheath on his waist, and held it to his throat. He didn’t flinch.
Instead, he held her gaze, slowly raised his hand to meet hers, tilted his head and kissed her hand like a lady.
Sam felt her cheeks flush warm, she certainly wasn’t used to this. “You passed my test.”
“Test?” Sam asked, taken aback.
“Friendship is very important to me. I had to know that you would do anything to help yours. I release you from your promise.” He said, moving to a standing position.
“Wait a minute, you’re telling that you’re about to risk your life against a virtually unknown enemy. For no money whatsoever, and now no date either?”
Gato sighed sadly. “Señorita, when you live the kind of life that we do, friends are few and far in between. Relationships are even more difficult, one simply doesn’t have the luxury of meeting the right person to settle down with. I’m sure you understand.”
Samantha nodded, she understood all too well. More than once she felt the pang of loneliness herself.
“Can I have my knife back now? It’s my favorite.”
Samantha looked at the knife, it was a slim double-edge stiletto blade. She flipped it over in her hand. "It's nicely balanced." She handed it back to El Gato.
“It hasn't let me down yet." He said quietly.
Samantha looked at him again. Perhaps he was every bit as capable as his file suggested.
“Ready when you are Senorita Storm."
“My friends call me Sam."
“And you may call me Tomas.”
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TMF Together 2019 [emoji486]
A Suikoden production
The next Samantha Storm adventure
**Colombia, South America**
*2:47 pm*
Angela Blaze had sauntered into the bar a little over an hour ago. She didn’t look herself. For one, she wasn’t wearing her tactical gear. The light blue shirt sleeved canvas shirt, khaki pants, and hiking boots were not something she would wear even when she wasn’t working. A long blonde wig covered her firey red hair.
As a matter of fact, she wasn’t herself either. For the duration of this mission, she was Laura Kincaid, investigative reporter.
“Whoo-eee! I thought it got hot in Texas, but we ain’t got nothin’ on y’all.” She suppressed a laugh, acting like a stereotypical Texan was part of her cover.
She took off her hat and fanned herself. As her long blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders, many of the men looked up in her direction.
“Get a lady a drink will ya?” She said, to the bartender. He looked a little like Danny Trejo. Angie has briefly considered asking for an autograph.
A tall man, carrying a glass of what she guessed to be tequila and lime by the smell of his breath, strode up to her.
“New in town seniorita?” He asked.
She whistled. “Well ain’t you a tall drink of water. Laura Kincaid, investigative reporter.” Angie said, flicking the press credentials badge clipped to her shirt.
“Could you tell a girl where I could find out a fella named El Demonio?”
One man, sitting at the end of the bar, spit out his drink at the name. Another man near the door did his best to edge out without being noticed, he broke into a sprint once he hit the street. That told her she was in the right place.
Angela flashed back to this mission briefing from yesterday evening.
**Section Seven**
*7:38 pm*
“Walk around out in the open, ask around about El Demonio, make sure your face is seen, act sloppy.” Fox said during the briefing.
“Right,” Angie rolled her eyes. “act like a bumbling second banana, get caught, and wait for big sis to come save me right?”
“If we send Samantha in, they’ll know something’s going down. They’ll be too guarded, and we’ll never find the place.” Fox said.
“Angie, we both know you’re better than that, but they don’t. They’ll assume you’re inexperienced, and we’ll use that to our advantage.” Samantha said, placing her hand on Angie’s shoulder supportively.
Angie sighed, she hated acting like a rookie, but everyone knows the easiest way to get in is to let someone catch you. “Okay, I’m in. I’m dying to know why every other agency is pretending like these guys don’t exist.”
“That’s the missing piece of the puzzle.” Fox said, rubbing her temples. “We have a name, El Demonio. But I refuse to believe nobody knows anything. No files, no reports, nothing in their bank accounts showing that they’re being paid to look the other way.”
Samantha could see that this was irritating Fox to no end. They’d never had this much trouble getting intel before. And the best plan was to walk into a trap with your eyes wide open.
**Colombia, South America**
*3:05 pm*
A small group of men made a rather obvious attempt to cut off her escape route from the bar. One of them stood to the left of the bar, a glance sent the bartender to the back. Another one stood casually by the door, pretending to enjoy the breeze blowing in from the street. The other two sat at tables behind her.
“Well, looks like I struck oil.” Angela thought, a little smirk crossing her ruby lips.
“Senorita Blaze, would you mind coming with us?” One of them said, drawing close, but staying far enough away to keep from getting struck by a surprise attack.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about sugar. My names Kincaid, Laura Kincaid.” She unclipped her badge, and showed him while sipping her drink.
He grinned, “Apparently there has been a mistake. If you will come with me, we will be happy to escort you back to your hotel.”
“Darn right there’s been a mistake. I sure would like to meet this Señorita Blaze, is she a superhero or something?” Angie said cooly.
One of the men stood up from the table, but the man next to Angie, glared at him, and he sat down immediately.
“I’m sure this will only take a moment, if you come now there won’t be any trouble.” He said, a glint in his eye as he said trouble. To someone without her training this would be a fight or flight situation, but he was about to do exactly what she wanted.
“Well, since you asked so nice. Are you sure it won’t be long? I have a deadline.” She said, finishing her drink. She reached into her pocket to pay, but he beat her to it putting a few bills onto the bar.
Angie fought the urge to say “jackpot” as they led her to the jeep outside. She could have easily taken out two of them before the others could react. It would be a brief scuffle, especially bringing one along at gunpoint for information. But that wasn’t part of the plan.
During the ride, Angie picked up snippets of the men conversing. One of them made a phone call, as the others spoke to each other in Spanish. One word Angie picked up of the conversation was “cosquillas” her mind searched for the meaning. But the jeep slowed and came to a halt.
After it came to a stop, the lead man spoke up. “El Demonio sends his apologies senorita, he is occupied at the moment. But we’ll be taking you to someone who will be happy to talk to you.”
Blaze could pick up on the cocky tone of his voice. She wanted to slug the condescending creep. “Stick to the plan Angie...” she thought. The tracking device would tell Section Seven her location. The hidden communicator would record everything and send it straight to home base. And then there was...
Her train of thought was derailed as she felt herself being picked up.
“What do you think you’re doing? Put me down right now!” Angela’s request fell on deaf ears.
Two of them held her arms, and began frisking her. As their hands roamed all over her shirt, looking for a wire or hidden recording device, their probing touches actually tickled.
“Hahahaha! Okay guys come on! Hehehehe... seriously, that tickles!” Under different circumstances, this might be fun, but she was on a mission.
The two in the front grabbed her legs, and began unlacing her boots. Her temper flared, and she pulled one socked foot free, and kicked the driver in the face. She heard the snap of a broken nose.
“Estúpida perra americana!” He yelped, holding his nose as it gushed blood. The lead man now held both her kicking legs tightly, and barked out orders to the other two.
Angela struggled to get her arms free, but couldn’t get any leverage. “Get the hell off me before I kick your...mmmph!”
The man with the busted nose held a rag over her face. She picked up the pungent scent of chloroform, and held her breath, kicking and pulling. The one holding her legs tickled the bottom of her foot, which caused her to gasp. Seconds later, she lost consciousness.
Angie awoke, unaware of how much time had passed. She opened her eyes and quickly assessed the situation. She was in a
small cell, it looked to be about 10x10. The walls were a about an inch thick. She reached out to touch them, undoubtedly reinforced somehow. There were narrow holes which allowed ventilation, but were too small to fit her fingers through. The floor was a metal grate, covered in what felt like velvet.
The cell itself was in the center of an office type of room. No windows, a single door. A table covered with what looked like padded leather. One wall had monitors wired into a computer.
The second thing Angela did was take stock of herself. Her boots and socks were gone. She only hoped they hadn’t discovered the tracking device in her boot, but she had to assume it’d been smashed. Hopefully they didn’t move her far from where they took them off.
Her sat-radio watch was gone too, which left her no way of calling for help. She also was barefoot, but the rest of her clothes were left on. Angie didn’t have time to think about why, she had to concentrate on keeping cool and doing what she came to do.
The door opened and a portly man walked in. “Well well well... Section Seven doesn’t think I’m worthy of Samantha’s attention anymore? I’m hurt.”
Angie felt a chill run down her spine. The man standing before her was Hugo Sexton, pervert extraordinaire. He had a serious thing for Sam, and every time he got his pudgy hands on her, she was put through the wringer. She didn’t want to stick around to find out what he had in store for her.
“Like your little cage? It’s my own personal design. That’s inch thick lexan, you won’t be getting out unless I let you out.” He pulled a remote from of his pocket, and waved it in front of her.
Blaze felt the chill melt away as he taunted her. She threw a kick at the wall, the soft sole of her bare foot thumped ineffectively against the cell. Despite not making contact, the coward stumbled backward, landing squarely on his oversized rump.
Angie couldn’t help but chuckle seeing the portly pervert trying to clamber back up off the floor.
“You wanna laugh at me?” Sexton said, now standing again, then pressed a button on the remote. “I’ll give you a reason to laugh.” Something below the floor of the cell began to make a whirring noise.
“Oh what the... hahahahaha!” Angie’s expletive was cut off by hundreds of soft bristles spinning and vibrating through the grate under her feet. It tickled like crazy, and there wasn’t any way to escape from the ticklish sensation.
“Like my little toy?” Sexton teased, as Angie hopped around trying desperately to keep from being tickled. “I don’t doubt you’re in great physical condition, but even you have your limits. Eventually you’ll drop from exhaustion, then every inch of your body touching the floor will be relentlessly tickled.”
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. There was no way she could keep this up for long. Having to laugh was preventing her from filling her lungs with air. Angie kept thrusting her knees up, as if she were jogging in place, and looked for a way out.
Sexton sat down in a chair to watch her. “You could strip off your clothes and stand on them I suppose. He said, as his hand drifted toward his crotch.
“Fuhuhuhhuhhuhhuhk you!” Angie laughed, trying desperately to keep her feet off the floor. There was no way she was going to strip for this pig, she’d pass out from being tickled first.
Then as quickly as it started, the tickling bristles stopped. Angela dropped to her knees sweating and tired. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air.
“Now that you’ve gotten a little taste of what this can do, maybe you’ll be open to cooperation.” Sexton said.
“I’m listening...” She answered, she had to buy time as she got her strength back.
“Good.” He grinned, “I may not have been able to break Samantha in the past, but with device that can break anyone given enough time.” Hugo paced around the cell, eyeing Angela hungrily. He patted the wall of the cell as if it were his lover.
Angie watched him with her teeth gritted, she didn’t take her eyes off him. “And I do mean anyone. Shall I show you?”
He strode over to the computer, and after a few seconds, the multiple screens flashed to life. On every screen, was variations on the same scene.
Women whose ages seemed to range from early twenties, to late forties trapped in the cell that Angela found herself in. They danced, hopped, laughed and fainted as the floor relentlessly tickled them.
“You’ve probably all been wondering why nobody comes after El Demonio? Well this is why. Everybody has family somewhere, Demonio finds them, and brings them to me to break. Once they do, they go home. After their husbands or even fathers agree to look the other way.”
Angela’s mouth opened in shock. Torturing innocent civilians was disgusting. Was there nothing this pig wouldn’t stoop to? And now she was going to be the latest. She would be used as bait to lure Samantha here.
Angie was sure that both she and Sam would give their lives before compromising Section Seven. But what if they found about Sam’s cousin? Dear God, that poor kid.
“Let me make something clear to you.” Sexton sneered, as her turned his chair back to face her. “The guards who brought you here found that tracking device, perhaps not as quickly as I would prefer.”
He shrugged, then continued. “They might find you, but I guarantee it won’t be soon enough. You’ll break my dear, and when you do you’ll give me everything I want. And I do mean everything.” Sexton looked her over, and licked his lips.
Angela leapt to her feet, and banged both firsts against the clear plastic wall. If she could get free, she’d wring his fat neck.
Hugo laughed, his gut wobbling under his shirt. “My you have quite the temper don’t you? You’re not as fun as Samantha, but I’ll enjoy myself all the same.” He pulled something out of his pocket, it was Angela’s communicator.
“I wonder if anyone at HQ is listening. Do you think they’ll send Samantha to rescue you?” He pressed the call button, then pressed the button on his remote that sent hundreds of soft whirring brushes through the grate into her feet.
Angela shouted, “Sam! Don’t do it, I’ll... hahahahahahaha noooohohohohoho!” Her unwilling dance started again. She tried everything to keep her feet away from those bristles. Jumping, hopping, trying to cling to the wall somehow. But none of it was any use.
Bouncing from foot to foot up on her toes only pushed the bristles in between them driving her crazy. Standing on her heels or the sides of her feet didn’t work either, the mechanism that raised or lowered them compensated. Every inch of the floor was tickling her feet relentlessly.
Angie tried to kick at the wall again, but it wouldn’t budge. She lost her balance and fell. The tickling floor prodded gently but firmly through her clothes, striking her side as soon as she hit the floor.
“Hahahahahahaha! Staaaahahahahap!” She cried out as the tickling sensation hit her body like an electric shock. Angie’s mind was lit up like a Christmas tree, thoughts flashing faster than she could organize them.
Did she dare try to get back on her feet, only to get exhausted from hopping and fall again? Should she roll onto her back? Was she as ticklish there? She couldn’t remember. It was getting hard to breathe, the ticklish laughter couldn’t pour out of her fast enough.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... OH GAAAAAHAHAD HAHAHAHAHAHA STAAHAHAHAHAPPP!!” She screamed in desperation with all the breath she could pull into her spasming body. The edge of Angela Blaze’s vision began to blur, and the last thought she had was wondering if someone could be tickled to death.
**SECTION SEVEN**
**The Office of Director Lydia Fox**
*6:17 pm*
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... OH GAAAAAHAHAD HAHAHAHAHAHA STAAHAHAHAHAPPP!!”
“And that’s the last thing we heard from Angela’s communication device before it cut out. It’s clear that she’s been captured, and it’s safe to say that she’s in trouble.” Lydia Fox said, letting out a deep breath as she broke the news.
The stunning young woman standing across her desk was none other than Samantha Storm. Section Seven’s best agent.
Samantha looked down, and crossed her arms, assessing the situation for a moment. She looked back at Fox, with concern in her beautiful but icy blue eyes.
“We all knew this would happen. But... I’ve never heard Angie scream like that.” She paused, and ran a hand through her silky jet black hair. “I’m going to get her.”
Angela Blaze, Angie was Sam’s best friend. They’ve been through a lot together, including tickling each other crazy. But this was different, between them it was a professional assessment, albeit a kinky one. Followed by a playful payback. But whatever Angie was going through right now was cold blooded torture.
Samantha did her best to suppress a shiver. To the untrained eye, she would have appeared perfectly cool. But Fox, who was not only her boss but a former agent herself, knew better.
“Samantha...” Lydia was using her boss tone. She paused, and changed to a more familiar one. “Sam, you should sit this one out. Let me send in Seven’s Deadly Sins and get her.”
It seemed that ever since word broke throughout the spy community that the young, but legendary agent was ticklish, it was a certainty that everyone would test just how ticklish she was. One by one her enemies tried to break her, and one by one they all failed. They couldn’t help but wonder if this would finally be the one she wouldn’t come back from.
Sam shook her head. “If you send in a larger force, they’ll take off. If they get away and take their computers with them we might never find out about El Demonio. Besides, we might not even have an exact fix on her location. Let me go, if I get in trouble, send in the extraction team.”
Fox answered, “I can’t think of anyone better. But you’ve got to remember to stick to the plan. Get in, do what you have to do, get out.”
Sam nodded. “Like I said when you briefed us on this mission... whatever it takes.” She turned to leave.
“You’re not going in alone.” Fox said, and Samantha stopped and turned around.
“I’ve arranged for some backup. He’s former Spec Ops, who now works in the private sector. Good man to have along if you wind up in a tight spot.
Sam opened her mouth to protest, she was used to be working alone. But Fox silenced her by raising her hand. “I know how good you are Sam, you’re the best. But the fact remains that this is quite possibly the most dangerous opponent we’ve ever gone up against. El Demonio has already found a way to compromise every law enforcement agency that’s gone up against him. It doesn’t hurt to hurt to have an ace up your sleeve.”
Samantha nodded, then spoke, “And what is the name of my ‘ace’?” Sam spat out the last word sarcastically. Just because she was ordered to work with backup, didn’t mean she’d have to like it.
“His name is El Gato.” Fox said, and with a few taps, called up his file on her monitor.
Samantha turned to look at the big screen, she was surprised to see a young, lean figure dressed in fatigues and tactical gear. Upon closer examination, she saw a handsome Latino with sharp eyes and a roguish grin. But this was a mission, not a date.
“El Gato? He calls himself the Cat, seriously?" Samantha was not convinced.
“An old callsign apparently." Fox, shrugged. “After I spoke to him, he insisted on leaving you this message.”
Fox took out her phone, and with a few taps, Samantha had a voice to put with the name.
“Hola Señorita Storm, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m looking forward to working together. I’ve sent Señora Fox the coordinates to El Rey where we’ll be meeting. Adiós!”
“Terrific...” Samantha said, “I’m risking my life to rescue my best friend from an enemy I know next to nothing about, and I’m teaming up with Puss In Boots.”
“Then I guess that makes you Shrek.” Fox added dryly.
**Somewhere in Mexico**
A cloud of dust swept past Samantha Storm as she brought her black Ducati Streetfighter to a stop in front of a roadside bar. She pulled off her helmet and shook out her long black hair.
One leg swung over the side, putting down the kickstand as she dismounted with all the grace of a dancer. The golden light of the sun glinted off her lightning bolt belt buckle.
A weather beaten sign on the roof read El Rey. “Looks like the intel is good so far.” Sam thought as she crossed the dirt and gravel that passed for a parking lot. The heads of several drunk men turned to watch her walk by. Undoubtedly admiring her lithe dancer’s figure striding by in her leather jacket, jeans, and boots. Her model level looks weren’t exactly a turn off either.
She pushed open the swinging doors and looked for her target. Her eyes moved from
one patron to another. Finally they set upon one man who sat in a quiet corner, sipping a glass of milk. A roll of her eyes later, and she was making her way toward him. Part of her wondered if this was an elaborate prank.
“This seat taken?” Sam said, and reached for the nearest chair. The man kicked the chair in such a way that sent it slid across the floor and spun around so that the seat was directly behind her.
“Señorita Storm?” He asked her, looking up from his glass, that voice was unmistakable.
“El Gato.” She replied, sitting down cautiously.
“I understand your hesitation señorita, caution is essential for people that do what we do.” He said, and motioned toward the bartender.
Sam cocked her eyebrow. “You do know that’s exactly the kind of lie someone luring me into a trap would tell me.”
“Yes it is. However from what Señora Fox has told me, your friend is in trouble, and the time is would take to earn that trust is something we simply do not have.”
The waitress brought over a glass for Sam, she caught a whiff of a familiar mixed drink. “Chilled vodka, with soda and lime.” She said, with a slight smile. “You read the file Fox sent.”
He nodded, “And I can safely assume you’ve read mine. I’m not charging any fees for this mission.”
“Not one of monetary value anyhow.” Sam said, taking a sip of her drink. It was mixed perfectly, and didn’t have the aftertaste of any drugs she could identify.
Gato lifted his glass, “Before we talk business, I wonder if you’ll join me in a toast. It’s not every day I meet someone as beautiful as you.”
Sam felt like rolling her eyes. How many women did he give that line to?
“To our mission, may it be a success. To your friend, may she be unharmed. And to us, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
He tilted his glass, she clinked hers, and they drank.
He noted the look on her face at his toast, and smiled. “A poet, I am not. But I have plenty of other skills that more than compensate.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Which is why you have the reputation of a womanizer.” Sam smirked, she’d read his file alright. All of it.
“I am who I am. You need help, I am at your service.” He stood up, and bowed before looking up, with a smirk of his own. “When this mission is over, one night together.”
Samantha drew in a breath to tell him to go take a long walk off a short pier. But she didn’t have time to bargain. Angie was in serious trouble, and the plan could go completely to hell without his help.
“One date, and that’s it... if we survive this, you won’t be disappointed. She said, then with one swift motion, she drew one of his blades from its sheath on his waist, and held it to his throat. He didn’t flinch.
Instead, he held her gaze, slowly raised his hand to meet hers, tilted his head and kissed her hand like a lady.
Sam felt her cheeks flush warm, she certainly wasn’t used to this. “You passed my test.”
“Test?” Sam asked, taken aback.
“Friendship is very important to me. I had to know that you would do anything to help yours. I release you from your promise.” He said, moving to a standing position.
“Wait a minute, you’re telling that you’re about to risk your life against a virtually unknown enemy. For no money whatsoever, and now no date either?”
Gato sighed sadly. “Señorita, when you live the kind of life that we do, friends are few and far in between. Relationships are even more difficult, one simply doesn’t have the luxury of meeting the right person to settle down with. I’m sure you understand.”
Samantha nodded, she understood all too well. More than once she felt the pang of loneliness herself.
“Can I have my knife back now? It’s my favorite.”
Samantha looked at the knife, it was a slim double-edge stiletto blade. She flipped it over in her hand. "It's nicely balanced." She handed it back to El Gato.
“It hasn't let me down yet." He said quietly.
Samantha looked at him again. Perhaps he was every bit as capable as his file suggested.
“Ready when you are Senorita Storm."
“My friends call me Sam."
“And you may call me Tomas.”
I’m also on DeviantArt
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TMF Together 2019 [emoji486]