"Patrick, they spammed me from the newsgroup, the Hitler bastards. I can't believe it. Oh." Erica sobbed a single tear that started navigating the treacherous descent down her long, drawn face. The frustration and pressure of the last few days grooved a long furrow in her pimpleless brow.
Patrick, the ultra sensitive super-nerd (as he liked to think of himself) placed a consoling arm around her shoulder while his hand somehow managing to rest comfortably on Erica's left breast. " We'll find him Erica. Hey, I know, Try IRC."
"OK," Erica sniffed.
*** Connecting to badsex.miscarriage.undernet.org (6667)
Local host: sexgod.wellendowed.com (126.96.36.199)
Connected as 'Erica'
#join channel spamspamspamspambakedbeansandspam
*** Now talking in spamspamspamspambakedbeansandspam
<Hanz> This group sux, I think I'll go hang out in #XXXNude_Teen_Pix
*** email@example.com has left channel #spamspamspamspambakedbeansandspam
<Flirtz> Hey Sheena, wanna go down on me?
<Sheena> Not in a million boyo….
<Wolfman> Give her " The COMFY CHAIR"
<Sheena> Hi Erica, welcome.
<Flirtz> ERICA, you are truly a goddess.
<Sheena> Your shameless Flirtz.
<Flirtz> Well, Its not very often we get real women in here……
<Sheena> shows Flirtz what he can't have.
<Erica> Does anybody know the words to "Finland"?
"Patrick, someone replied!"
The conversation (and the data connection) were rudely interrupted by a very loud bang, followed by the notebook rambunctiously exploding into shards of plastic and glass. Erica flung herself out of her seat onto the ground. Patrick tripped over his own feet in surprise and collapsed into a heap behind her.
"Hey" said a shocked Patrick, "Control Alt Delete my ass…".
Picking herself up off the ground, Erica looked up from where she was lying to see a very tall, seedy looking brute of a man holding a smoking gun big enough to put a hole in the world. The point of the gun was covering both of them. Erica could hear Patrick crying (probably due to the sudden demise of his favourite possession) behind her.
"Get up" came the order.
"Who the hell are you and what the fuck do you think you are doing?" Erica demanded as she regained verticality and dusted all of the pieces of notebook off her dress.
"Shut up and get into the van." The seedy man pointed with the gun toward an old ex-ambulance, which had just pulled up a few metres away.
"What do you want with us?" Erica blurted while quietly thinking to herself that she sounded like a B-Grade bank robbery hostage.
"You will find out later, now please get in the van." Erica vaguely recognised the seedy man's accent. She heard movement behind her and turned to look for Patrick, only to discover him lying unconscious, face down on the ground. A rather large, blonde, elephant wrestler stood above him with a gleam in his eye, stroking a riot baton. Panicking, Erica turned to run. She was grabbed from behind and a white cloth was held over her mouth and nose.
9:45am A Dark Cell
A soft grunting and shuffling noise woke Erica from her drug-induced slumber. She felt something liquid, soft and warm fall onto her chest. When she opened her eyes, a leather-enclosed face greeted her with a smiling zipper (leaking drool) for a mouth. Erica filled her lungs to 110% capacity, ready to let fly the ugliest scream imaginable, when the gimp suddenly ran wailing into the dark recesses of the room. A heartbeat later the cell door opened. The man with the gun strode in, surrounded by a soft aura created by the dim light flooding in from the hallway.
"Hello Erica, my name is Riekelt van Slooten. I am very interested in the whereabouts of a friend of yours, a certain Mr Flikka Laakksonen."