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Description
Madeline Morales tilted her head to the side. Was there something she was missing?

Before her sat the gallery’s latest acquisition-one of the last genuine Krolokowski paintings in existence. On the canvas was a vast array of vibrant oil paints, caked on so heavily that the piece almost looked like a mountainous topographical map. Paint, oil, plaster, and...oh, good god, she had heard various body fluids...adorned just about every Krolokowski piece. The man was, as Madeline had understood, a degenerate in every sense of the word. His paintings were often the product of multi-day, drug addled orgies created only after the man had lost any grip on reality. The colors clashed, the textures were violent, and for the most part none of them were very pleasant to look at.

Yet his work was highly sought after, even 60 years after the man’s untimely (but entirely expected) demise.

“I’ve heard some of his pieces are actual crime scenes.” I stately voice said from behind Madeline. Clicking along in her black heeled boots, the austere figure of Lindsay Slonus saddled into place next to her to admire the new painting. She was a girl that simply emanated presence with dusty red hair and a soft face-the kind that seemed to scrutinize everything it looked at with its bold, green eyes. Keen to look the part of a curator, she wore a thick black turtleneck sweater accented by a yellow beret atop her rusty hair.

Lindsay had been Madeline’s business partner for the last two years since the opening of the aptly named “Slonus Gallery”. The latter had felt there were more than enough establishments in the world with her name plastered on them and thus was more than happy to allow her friend’s name to grace the place. She was just glad to be a part of it.

“It’s....certainly different” Madeline mused unenthusiastically, trying to save face. Good lord, the piece looked like a technicolor microwaved soup explosion.

“No, it’s definitely the worst.” Lindsay finally conceded. “We don’t have to pretend. But people are fascinated by Krolokowski-most of his paintings usually ended up in the dumpster, set ablaze, blown up, or missing-all of the artist’s own accord. Anything that survived the guy’s craziness is considered relatively priceless. “

The tall copper haired girl pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and continued. “I suppose it has an appeal if you’re one of those serial killer ‘stans’, as the kids say”

“As the ‘kids’ say? You’re 24, Lindz. Calm down.” Madeline scoffed. She had dealt with enough genuine serial killers in her time to have no interest in art created by one.

Lindsay gave a knowing side glance to her partner, continuing. “Jokes about the murder on canvas aside, this piece is actually one of the auction items we’re donating to the O’Mara Foundation Gala next week.”

Of course, donating meant taking a significant percentage of whatever the final auction price was with the rest going to whatever charity the foundation had decided to benefit for that evening-all of it being a rather hefty tax deduction.

It was philanthropy. Honest.

Madeline rubbed her temples, having clearly made an effort to forget the event was coming.

“The gala! Right!...Lindsay, if I’m being honest-are you sure I can’t just sit that one out? My friends and I aren’t exactly the sort of people who should be rubbing elbows with folks from the O’Mara Foundation.”

She wasn’t wrong-the foundation’s namesake and CEO of LlamTech, Juliana O’Mara, was rather adept at keeping her nose clean of the numerous ethically questionable practices her company was involved in. Many of the major players beneath her, however, were not so lucky. Madeline had found herself caught up in her fair share of Ashley Hamrick-spearheaded crusades against everyone from thugs and narcotics kingpins to megalomaniac human traffickers and killers-all of whom had their trails connect in some way to O’Mara.

The pink haired executive was unlikely to make an appearance at the gala, let alone distinguish Madeline or her friends in the crowd from others who had gotten in her way. In spite of this, it was a near guarantee that at least a few of her colorful associates would be in attendance. People with a small enough sphere of influence to remember faces and hold grudges.

Lindsay gave Madeline a reassuring smile, her usually stern expression softening. “Oh, come on, honey. It’s not like security isn’t going to be to the nines. Besides, I figured you’d be most at home in an environment like this! You’re a natural princess when it comes to social graces. You know I can’t carry the reputation of this gallery by myself!” She continued, gesturing a hand in a sweeping motion to the gallery as a whole “We’ve got this Krolokowski going to auction alongside a Basquiat, Rauschenberg, and Koons. I know our ownership of those pieces is in no small part thanks to connections that only you have! My name might be on the business cards here, but you’re the real reason this place is open, Maddy. You’ve got to let yourself be known to our clientele!”

Madeline tapped her chin, taking a moment to think. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to be in the thick of an elegant evening with handsome men, quality drinks, and fine entertainment-it was just the potential for bumping into any number of the murderous and well connected individuals that she and her friends had pissed off over the years was less than enticing. But if security was a non-issue, why worry? Don’t go into back alleys, don’t let yourself be alone with some of these people, and avoid anything that looks like a killer security robot and we should be fine, right?

Madeline threw her hands up in deference.

“Of course. I’ll be there. I’m sure I’m just being overly cautious.”

Lindsay gently squeezed her business partner’s hand, delighted. “Excellent! Though-please do tell your friend Ashley to stay out of anyone’s business, if she’s going to attend. Just drink and be merry, yeah?”

That was a tall order. The only way she’d keep Ashley from trying to dig dirt on wealthy, powerful people at an event like this was to simply leave her out of it.

Maybe she’d forget to tell her about this.

.......................................................................

“So you’re just going to miss the festival? Maddy, do you realize how much we all dropped on tickets?”

Ashley Hamrick sat crosslegged on the plush couch of Jenna’s campus apartment, clearly not pleased about being informed of the last minute rain check she’d been given by her friend for this weekend. It had been several months since Ashley, Adrianne, Jenna, and Madeline had pooled together money for a set of Saturday passes for Austin City Limits-an investment that had all set them back quite a fair amount of cash.

Except for the darling heiress, Madeline Morales. That part was what upset Ashley the most.

“I’ve got a function I need to attend for my dad! You know how much I have to play in to the ‘model family’ at these things-it’s all about appearances. I’m sorry it’s so last minute!” Madeline leaned against a nearby wall defensively-while still retaining a stately posture.

“Uggghhhh.” Ashley rolled her eyes before shooting a glance to Jenna and Adrianne who sat sunk into the plush bean bag chairs that Jenna had considered high-end decorating. “You two are still in right? No social graces we have to attend like the princess of Genovia over here?”

Both glanced up from their phones and gave gentle nods, clearly not as upset as their blonde friend was about this.

“Ash, you know I’d get out of this if I could! It’s not like I want to be hanging out with greasy old oil execs.” Madeline pleaded, never wanting to leave her friends unhappy with her.

“Fine. You go ahead and have fun at the O’Mara Foundation Gala. I don’t mind that you didn’t tell me.”

Madeline froze.

“H-how did you find out about that?..”

“Oh wow, shit-that actually worked?” Ashley looked as stunned as her friend did “I was making a guess-I didn’t think you’d chomp at the bait that quickly!”

The previously disinterested Adrianne and Jenna suddenly leapt into the conversation-poor Madeline caught in her attempt to keep them out of the O’Mara Gala.

“C’mooooon, Mad!” Jenna got to her feet “You never let us come with you to stuff like this! I’m not even interested in whatever crazy shit Ashley is looking to start-free drinks, free dinner, and brushing elbows with the super rich? That probably sounds boring as hell to you, but imagine how we feel!”

Madeline shirked, realizing she was in the middle of a lioness’ den. “Jenna, it’s not like I-wait, Ashley-what were you thinking of doing? Ashley?!”

While her eyes were lead astray, Madeline had failed to notice her friend disappear from the room before reappearing in the entry way with her book bag-intent on heading out.

She clearly forgot about the festival fast.

“Well, ladies, I’ve got to be heading home-I’m sure we’ve all got a great deal of preparation to make for tomorrow’s festivities!” Ashley announced in her best socialite’s voice. “Miss Morales, I do trust you’ll be able to arrange transport for us on the morrow?”

Madeline sighed, placing a well manicured hand to her forehead. If there was a way to talk her friend out of this, she didn’t know it. Ashley typically had a way of making her will simply ‘happen’.

“Ashley, please-I can’t have you starting any trouble at this gala! This is the my first shot to really get the reputation of our gallery out there-Lindsay and I aren’t just going there for fun.” She rested her hands on her hips “We’ve got some genuine pieces going to auction at that party-this our chance to really establish Slonus Gallery as a serious endeavor!”

“Having several million dollars poured into a business doesn’t automatically chalk it up as a ‘serious’ endeavor?” Adrianne chimed in incredulously.

“You know what I mean! You of all people should know the value of networking!”

“You know I’m just giving you shit. I know how much that place means to you. I’ll be sitting this one out, frankly.” Adrianne said as she leaned back in the bean bag.

“Suit yourself!” Jenna stepped over to join Ashley on her way out before lifting her chin and putting on the same haughty inflection. “Miss Hamrick-shall we go and partake of the wardrobe services for tomorrow’s soirée? I intend to be dressed to kill!”

“I do say, Miss Carmine, I suppose we shall! I shall contact you via SMS forthright once I know what I shall be wearing!”

With that, Ashley slipped out the door before Madeline could convince her otherwise.

“I suppose I should let Lindsay know I’m coming with a plus two..” Madeline said as she resigned herself to a nearby armchair. “Jenna-promise me you’ll keep her from starting an incident with anyone at the Gala?”

Jenna shrugged, heading to her bedroom to start finding a dress for the next evening. “You know I’m not going to promise anything-I’ll try to keep her busy, though!”

There really was no way to turn Ashley around on something once she was set to it, was there?

........................................................................

Lindsay Slonus locked the doors of the gallery for the evening. Turning back to the lobby, the place was filled with well over a dozen statues and paintings set for auction at tomorrow’s Gala. Safely padded and crated, everything would be transported tomorrow morning to the museum banquet hall that would be hosting the event.

The redhead stretched, heading back to her desk in the middle of the lobby to finish up on some promotional material she and Madeline had been putting together to get the name of the gallery out into the minds of a wider clientele. This was hardly Lindsay’s first auction, but it would be the first time she would be bringing any pieces of such high notoriety to the floor.

The high profile of such pieces was obviously mostly the doing of Madeline’s extensive finances-but she was determined to prove to the art community that she was worthy of such a collection. Slonus Gallery was not going to be successful just because it had a wealthy co-owner!

“BZZZZZZZZZZZZT!”

The door buzzer broke her revelry. The young woman sat back up and creaked the glass door open to see a pair of men in grey jumpsuits and gloves.

“AT Freight, m’am.” One of the men-a heavy set Hispanic man with a large mustache-said as he handed her a slip of paper.

“I..um...We weren’t expecting you guys until tomorrow?” Lindsay looked at the invoice she had been handed. It looked legitimate! “Madeline must have scheduled it a little early. No worries!”

The two men followed closely behind her as she lead them to the pieces in the foyer. The other man-almost purposefully sticking to the comic dynamic-was a tall and lanky mess of about 6’ 5”. He made a bee line to one of the tall humanoid sculptures at the front of the mass, easing the crate on its side before removing the statue itself from the protective bed of foam shavings.

“Oh-you guys don’t have to worry about re-boxing everything!” Lindsay said to the side as she returned to her desk. “Just wheel them out to the banquet hall and we’re set.”

The tall man didn’t even acknowledge her as he stepped out to the truck-presumably to grab his tools. What was stranger was that she realized his stout partner was nowhere to be seen. How the hell did she lose sight of a person that quickly? They had both walked in with her!

“The box isn’t for the statue, red.” A voice behind her said.

Lindsay’s instincts told her she was in danger-but a hand clamped over her mouth and torso before she even had the chance to cry out for help.

“HHLLLHMMMMMMPPHHH! SSSmmmm-MMHHHFFHH!”

The short man wrestled her out of her chair and onto the floor-clearly enjoying the struggle his prey was putting up.

“Thaaaats it, gal. Scream all you want.” He nodded to his partner as he stepped back inside-rope in hand. Lindsay’s eyes widened at the sight-her head shaking as much as the man would allow her.

The silent tall man grabbed her kicking legs, pinning her ankles to the concrete floor before coiling rope in liberal amounts around them. Still not satisfied with the amount of kicking the girl was still doing, he worked his way up to her strong thighs, treating them to a similar dose of rope. Cinching the knot after nearly a dozen wraps, he slapped her leg playfully.

The man holding her sat her up-allowing his partner to wrap her torso thoroughly. Around her arms and chests, Lindsay was nearly having trouble breathing with how tightly she was wound up.

The hand left her mouth for the briefest of moments.

“Who the fuck ARE you guys?! Do you-mmhhpphhhhh! HLLLLFFHHHHH!”

Little did the curator know, her handlers were far from amateurs in matters such as this. A rag quickly filled her screaming mouth, accompanied shortly thereafter by an excess of silk fabric wrapping around her head to seal it in. Almost as if they were timing themselves, the two men immediately lay hands off of her as the last knot was tied, letting the redhead slump to the floor squirming.

The fuming girl struggled furiously-her expression more one of peeved inconvenience than genuine fear.

It was a shame she didn’t truly know the magnitude of who’s clutches she found herself in.

“Two minutes, twenty-eight!” The large man announced upon checking his watch.

Son of a bitch, they were timing themselves! Lindsay thought.

A third man stepped inside-this one not of the same laborer build as the other two. He walked with an almost room-filling presence, his steps slow and not in the least bit rushed. From her position on the floor, she could make out every detail of the crocodile-like texture of the leather shoes stepping towards her. Jesus, were those Loueys?

Her eyes roving upward, she saw a slender man in a finely pressed burgundy suit with his hands politely clasped behind his back.

What really struck her, however, was what he wore on his face.

A shimmering metal mask, almost like that of the comedy/tragedy faces she was all too familiar with, clung to his face. A single red diode glowed warmly in one eye-an eye who’s ominous gaze now rested on her.

“Have you secured her?”

Under ordinary circumstances, this man’s warm, seductive voice with its radio chatter twinge would have excited Lindsay in the worst way. In her present state, however? The dulcet tones combined with his cold demeanor made her body stiffen with fear. What the fuck were they going to do with her?

The two men who had supposedly come to move the art pieces gripped her firmly, lifting her just high enough to where her bound feet dangled just inches from the ground before depositing her in the crate that had previously held the priceless impressionist sculpture.

“I hope you don’t mind that we borrow your little auction operation as a cover for our own.” The man in the mask cooed as he leaned over the box, his glowing mask illuminating the inside of the crate. “Miss O’Mara herself has given me permission to piggy back, after all. I suppose I don’t need to ask someone like you.”

Someone like her? Oh, fuck this guy! Lindsay fumed.

“Mhhhhh fffffhhhh mhhhffhhh?!”

“Hush, now, sweetheart. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself struggling like that..” The man grabbed her gagged face, squeezing her packed cheeks. Then, as if inspecting her, turned her face from side to side. “Yes, I’m sure we even have one that fits in the van.”

A ‘what’ that fits?!

“Fact of the matter is this, Miss Slonus-there will be much more going to auction tomorrow evening than just art.” He chuckled to himself “Well, perhaps art of a different sort. I’m sure you thought your payday was going to be quite impressive!”

Lindsay’s eyes were wide with rage as she watched the other two men fill the edges of her vision outside of the crate, hovering the wooden lid over her.

“But I can assure you-“ the masked man continued with terse finality “Mine will be far greater. I do hope you’ll understand.”

The lid slammed over the crate, followed in quick succession by nails hammering it shut. The man’s electric voice could still be heard, muffled through the wood.

“Even if you don’t-you won’t have a choice very soon...”

Description
Madeline Morales tilted her head to the side. Was there something she was missing?

Before her sat the gallery’s latest acquisition-one of the last genuine Krolokowski paintings in existence. On the canvas was a vast array of vibrant oil paints, caked on so heavily that the piece almost looked like a mountainous topographical map. Paint, oil, plaster, and...oh, good god, she had heard various body fluids...adorned just about every Krolokowski piece. The man was, as Madeline had understood, a degenerate in every sense of the word. His paintings were often the product of multi-day, drug addled orgies created only after the man had lost any grip on reality. The colors clashed, the textures were violent, and for the most part none of them were very pleasant to look at.

Yet his work was highly sought after, even 60 years after the man’s untimely (but entirely expected) demise.

“I’ve heard some of his pieces are actual crime scenes.” I stately voice said from behind Madeline. Clicking along in her black heeled boots, the austere figure of Lindsay Slonus saddled into place next to her to admire the new painting. She was a girl that simply emanated presence with dusty red hair and a soft face-the kind that seemed to scrutinize everything it looked at with its bold, green eyes. Keen to look the part of a curator, she wore a thick black turtleneck sweater accented by a yellow beret atop her rusty hair.

Lindsay had been Madeline’s business partner for the last two years since the opening of the aptly named “Slonus Gallery”. The latter had felt there were more than enough establishments in the world with her name plastered on them and thus was more than happy to allow her friend’s name to grace the place. She was just glad to be a part of it.

“It’s....certainly different” Madeline mused unenthusiastically, trying to save face. Good lord, the piece looked like a technicolor microwaved soup explosion.

“No, it’s definitely the worst.” Lindsay finally conceded. “We don’t have to pretend. But people are fascinated by Krolokowski-most of his paintings usually ended up in the dumpster, set ablaze, blown up, or missing-all of the artist’s own accord. Anything that survived the guy’s craziness is considered relatively priceless. “

The tall copper haired girl pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and continued. “I suppose it has an appeal if you’re one of those serial killer ‘stans’, as the kids say”

“As the ‘kids’ say? You’re 24, Lindz. Calm down.” Madeline scoffed. She had dealt with enough genuine serial killers in her time to have no interest in art created by one.

Lindsay gave a knowing side glance to her partner, continuing. “Jokes about the murder on canvas aside, this piece is actually one of the auction items we’re donating to the O’Mara Foundation Gala next week.”

Of course, donating meant taking a significant percentage of whatever the final auction price was with the rest going to whatever charity the foundation had decided to benefit for that evening-all of it being a rather hefty tax deduction.

It was philanthropy. Honest.

Madeline rubbed her temples, having clearly made an effort to forget the event was coming.

“The gala! Right!...Lindsay, if I’m being honest-are you sure I can’t just sit that one out? My friends and I aren’t exactly the sort of people who should be rubbing elbows with folks from the O’Mara Foundation.”

She wasn’t wrong-the foundation’s namesake and CEO of LlamTech, Juliana O’Mara, was rather adept at keeping her nose clean of the numerous ethically questionable practices her company was involved in. Many of the major players beneath her, however, were not so lucky. Madeline had found herself caught up in her fair share of Ashley Hamrick-spearheaded crusades against everyone from thugs and narcotics kingpins to megalomaniac human traffickers and killers-all of whom had their trails connect in some way to O’Mara.

The pink haired executive was unlikely to make an appearance at the gala, let alone distinguish Madeline or her friends in the crowd from others who had gotten in her way. In spite of this, it was a near guarantee that at least a few of her colorful associates would be in attendance. People with a small enough sphere of influence to remember faces and hold grudges.

Lindsay gave Madeline a reassuring smile, her usually stern expression softening. “Oh, come on, honey. It’s not like security isn’t going to be to the nines. Besides, I figured you’d be most at home in an environment like this! You’re a natural princess when it comes to social graces. You know I can’t carry the reputation of this gallery by myself!” She continued, gesturing a hand in a sweeping motion to the gallery as a whole “We’ve got this Krolokowski going to auction alongside a Basquiat, Rauschenberg, and Koons. I know our ownership of those pieces is in no small part thanks to connections that only you have! My name might be on the business cards here, but you’re the real reason this place is open, Maddy. You’ve got to let yourself be known to our clientele!”

Madeline tapped her chin, taking a moment to think. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to be in the thick of an elegant evening with handsome men, quality drinks, and fine entertainment-it was just the potential for bumping into any number of the murderous and well connected individuals that she and her friends had pissed off over the years was less than enticing. But if security was a non-issue, why worry? Don’t go into back alleys, don’t let yourself be alone with some of these people, and avoid anything that looks like a killer security robot and we should be fine, right?

Madeline threw her hands up in deference.

“Of course. I’ll be there. I’m sure I’m just being overly cautious.”

Lindsay gently squeezed her business partner’s hand, delighted. “Excellent! Though-please do tell your friend Ashley to stay out of anyone’s business, if she’s going to attend. Just drink and be merry, yeah?”

That was a tall order. The only way she’d keep Ashley from trying to dig dirt on wealthy, powerful people at an event like this was to simply leave her out of it.

Maybe she’d forget to tell her about this.

.......................................................................

“So you’re just going to miss the festival? Maddy, do you realize how much we all dropped on tickets?”

Ashley Hamrick sat crosslegged on the plush couch of Jenna’s campus apartment, clearly not pleased about being informed of the last minute rain check she’d been given by her friend for this weekend. It had been several months since Ashley, Adrianne, Jenna, and Madeline had pooled together money for a set of Saturday passes for Austin City Limits-an investment that had all set them back quite a fair amount of cash.

Except for the darling heiress, Madeline Morales. That part was what upset Ashley the most.

“I’ve got a function I need to attend for my dad! You know how much I have to play in to the ‘model family’ at these things-it’s all about appearances. I’m sorry it’s so last minute!” Madeline leaned against a nearby wall defensively-while still retaining a stately posture.

“Uggghhhh.” Ashley rolled her eyes before shooting a glance to Jenna and Adrianne who sat sunk into the plush bean bag chairs that Jenna had considered high-end decorating. “You two are still in right? No social graces we have to attend like the princess of Genovia over here?”

Both glanced up from their phones and gave gentle nods, clearly not as upset as their blonde friend was about this.

“Ash, you know I’d get out of this if I could! It’s not like I want to be hanging out with greasy old oil execs.” Madeline pleaded, never wanting to leave her friends unhappy with her.

“Fine. You go ahead and have fun at the O’Mara Foundation Gala. I don’t mind that you didn’t tell me.”

Madeline froze.

“H-how did you find out about that?..”

“Oh wow, shit-that actually worked?” Ashley looked as stunned as her friend did “I was making a guess-I didn’t think you’d chomp at the bait that quickly!”

The previously disinterested Adrianne and Jenna suddenly leapt into the conversation-poor Madeline caught in her attempt to keep them out of the O’Mara Gala.

“C’mooooon, Mad!” Jenna got to her feet “You never let us come with you to stuff like this! I’m not even interested in whatever crazy shit Ashley is looking to start-free drinks, free dinner, and brushing elbows with the super rich? That probably sounds boring as hell to you, but imagine how we feel!”

Madeline shirked, realizing she was in the middle of a lioness’ den. “Jenna, it’s not like I-wait, Ashley-what were you thinking of doing? Ashley?!”

While her eyes were lead astray, Madeline had failed to notice her friend disappear from the room before reappearing in the entry way with her book bag-intent on heading out.

She clearly forgot about the festival fast.

“Well, ladies, I’ve got to be heading home-I’m sure we’ve all got a great deal of preparation to make for tomorrow’s festivities!” Ashley announced in her best socialite’s voice. “Miss Morales, I do trust you’ll be able to arrange transport for us on the morrow?”

Madeline sighed, placing a well manicured hand to her forehead. If there was a way to talk her friend out of this, she didn’t know it. Ashley typically had a way of making her will simply ‘happen’.

“Ashley, please-I can’t have you starting any trouble at this gala! This is the my first shot to really get the reputation of our gallery out there-Lindsay and I aren’t just going there for fun.” She rested her hands on her hips “We’ve got some genuine pieces going to auction at that party-this our chance to really establish Slonus Gallery as a serious endeavor!”

“Having several million dollars poured into a business doesn’t automatically chalk it up as a ‘serious’ endeavor?” Adrianne chimed in incredulously.

“You know what I mean! You of all people should know the value of networking!”

“You know I’m just giving you shit. I know how much that place means to you. I’ll be sitting this one out, frankly.” Adrianne said as she leaned back in the bean bag.

“Suit yourself!” Jenna stepped over to join Ashley on her way out before lifting her chin and putting on the same haughty inflection. “Miss Hamrick-shall we go and partake of the wardrobe services for tomorrow’s soirée? I intend to be dressed to kill!”

“I do say, Miss Carmine, I suppose we shall! I shall contact you via SMS forthright once I know what I shall be wearing!”

With that, Ashley slipped out the door before Madeline could convince her otherwise.

“I suppose I should let Lindsay know I’m coming with a plus two..” Madeline said as she resigned herself to a nearby armchair. “Jenna-promise me you’ll keep her from starting an incident with anyone at the Gala?”

Jenna shrugged, heading to her bedroom to start finding a dress for the next evening. “You know I’m not going to promise anything-I’ll try to keep her busy, though!”

There really was no way to turn Ashley around on something once she was set to it, was there?

........................................................................

Lindsay Slonus locked the doors of the gallery for the evening. Turning back to the lobby, the place was filled with well over a dozen statues and paintings set for auction at tomorrow’s Gala. Safely padded and crated, everything would be transported tomorrow morning to the museum banquet hall that would be hosting the event.

The redhead stretched, heading back to her desk in the middle of the lobby to finish up on some promotional material she and Madeline had been putting together to get the name of the gallery out into the minds of a wider clientele. This was hardly Lindsay’s first auction, but it would be the first time she would be bringing any pieces of such high notoriety to the floor.

The high profile of such pieces was obviously mostly the doing of Madeline’s extensive finances-but she was determined to prove to the art community that she was worthy of such a collection. Slonus Gallery was not going to be successful just because it had a wealthy co-owner!

“BZZZZZZZZZZZZT!”

The door buzzer broke her revelry. The young woman sat back up and creaked the glass door open to see a pair of men in grey jumpsuits and gloves.

“AT Freight, m’am.” One of the men-a heavy set Hispanic man with a large mustache-said as he handed her a slip of paper.

“I..um...We weren’t expecting you guys until tomorrow?” Lindsay looked at the invoice she had been handed. It looked legitimate! “Madeline must have scheduled it a little early. No worries!”

The two men followed closely behind her as she lead them to the pieces in the foyer. The other man-almost purposefully sticking to the comic dynamic-was a tall and lanky mess of about 6’ 5”. He made a bee line to one of the tall humanoid sculptures at the front of the mass, easing the crate on its side before removing the statue itself from the protective bed of foam shavings.

“Oh-you guys don’t have to worry about re-boxing everything!” Lindsay said to the side as she returned to her desk. “Just wheel them out to the banquet hall and we’re set.”

The tall man didn’t even acknowledge her as he stepped out to the truck-presumably to grab his tools. What was stranger was that she realized his stout partner was nowhere to be seen. How the hell did she lose sight of a person that quickly? They had both walked in with her!

“The box isn’t for the statue, red.” A voice behind her said.

Lindsay’s instincts told her she was in danger-but a hand clamped over her mouth and torso before she even had the chance to cry out for help.

“HHLLLHMMMMMMPPHHH! SSSmmmm-MMHHHFFHH!”

The short man wrestled her out of her chair and onto the floor-clearly enjoying the struggle his prey was putting up.

“Thaaaats it, gal. Scream all you want.” He nodded to his partner as he stepped back inside-rope in hand. Lindsay’s eyes widened at the sight-her head shaking as much as the man would allow her.

The silent tall man grabbed her kicking legs, pinning her ankles to the concrete floor before coiling rope in liberal amounts around them. Still not satisfied with the amount of kicking the girl was still doing, he worked his way up to her strong thighs, treating them to a similar dose of rope. Cinching the knot after nearly a dozen wraps, he slapped her leg playfully.

The man holding her sat her up-allowing his partner to wrap her torso thoroughly. Around her arms and chests, Lindsay was nearly having trouble breathing with how tightly she was wound up.

The hand left her mouth for the briefest of moments.

“Who the fuck ARE you guys?! Do you-mmhhpphhhhh! HLLLLFFHHHHH!”

Little did the curator know, her handlers were far from amateurs in matters such as this. A rag quickly filled her screaming mouth, accompanied shortly thereafter by an excess of silk fabric wrapping around her head to seal it in. Almost as if they were timing themselves, the two men immediately lay hands off of her as the last knot was tied, letting the redhead slump to the floor squirming.

The fuming girl struggled furiously-her expression more one of peeved inconvenience than genuine fear.

It was a shame she didn’t truly know the magnitude of who’s clutches she found herself in.

“Two minutes, twenty-eight!” The large man announced upon checking his watch.

Son of a bitch, they were timing themselves! Lindsay thought.

A third man stepped inside-this one not of the same laborer build as the other two. He walked with an almost room-filling presence, his steps slow and not in the least bit rushed. From her position on the floor, she could make out every detail of the crocodile-like texture of the leather shoes stepping towards her. Jesus, were those Loueys?

Her eyes roving upward, she saw a slender man in a finely pressed burgundy suit with his hands politely clasped behind his back.

What really struck her, however, was what he wore on his face.

A shimmering metal mask, almost like that of the comedy/tragedy faces she was all too familiar with, clung to his face. A single red diode glowed warmly in one eye-an eye who’s ominous gaze now rested on her.

“Have you secured her?”

Under ordinary circumstances, this man’s warm, seductive voice with its radio chatter twinge would have excited Lindsay in the worst way. In her present state, however? The dulcet tones combined with his cold demeanor made her body stiffen with fear. What the fuck were they going to do with her?

The two men who had supposedly come to move the art pieces gripped her firmly, lifting her just high enough to where her bound feet dangled just inches from the ground before depositing her in the crate that had previously held the priceless impressionist sculpture.

“I hope you don’t mind that we borrow your little auction operation as a cover for our own.” The man in the mask cooed as he leaned over the box, his glowing mask illuminating the inside of the crate. “Miss O’Mara herself has given me permission to piggy back, after all. I suppose I don’t need to ask someone like you.”

Someone like her? Oh, fuck this guy! Lindsay fumed.

“Mhhhhh fffffhhhh mhhhffhhh?!”

“Hush, now, sweetheart. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself struggling like that..” The man grabbed her gagged face, squeezing her packed cheeks. Then, as if inspecting her, turned her face from side to side. “Yes, I’m sure we even have one that fits in the van.”

A ‘what’ that fits?!

“Fact of the matter is this, Miss Slonus-there will be much more going to auction tomorrow evening than just art.” He chuckled to himself “Well, perhaps art of a different sort. I’m sure you thought your payday was going to be quite impressive!”

Lindsay’s eyes were wide with rage as she watched the other two men fill the edges of her vision outside of the crate, hovering the wooden lid over her.

“But I can assure you-“ the masked man continued with terse finality “Mine will be far greater. I do hope you’ll understand.”

The lid slammed over the crate, followed in quick succession by nails hammering it shut. The man’s electric voice could still be heard, muffled through the wood.

“Even if you don’t-you won’t have a choice very soon...”