Chapter Text
You fucking idiot! Kara cursed herself, her breathing frantic. You stupid, gullible fuck!
With purpose, Kara fled, scraping her already bloodied hands on low hanging branches as she pushed them aside. The foliage was thick, forcing Kara to leap over rotten, fallen trees and occasionally crawl under dense tangles of vine and brush. With the sound of every snapping branch and with the crunching of leaves under her feet, Kara instinctively cringed. For the past three weeks, survival had depended upon silence and stealth. But now, in this moment, her survival depended on being fast, on gaining ground, on widening the gap between herself and the hunters she'd stumbled upon. Her heart pounding loudly in her chest & her legs aching, Kara gasped for breath. As she ran, it became harder and harder to breathe, and tears blurred her vision. In the onslaught of fatigue, Kara tripped over a thick tree root, and hit the ground hard. Her knees scrapped against the debris of the forest floor, opening up fresh wounds as Kara scrambled to her feet and hurriedly searched about for a place to hide. She just couldn't run anymore. In the darkness, she heard blood curdling screams of terror, and despite her panic, managed to find a hollowed out trunk just a few feet away.
Hurriedly, she made her way to the hollow tree trunk, thinking encouraging thoughts. You'll be fine, she told herself. You've been in much worse situations before. Just a few more feet...it's the perfect hiding place, you'll just have to wait this out...But her mind froze. From the corner of her eye, Kara spotted a human form. Shit! Surely, she hadn't run all this way, only to bump into one, completely by accident?
There was still the tiniest twinge of hope. Frozen in place, not daring to breath, she turned slowly, praying that what she saw was a hallucination, perhaps made by the juxtaposing darkness and moonlight. Perhaps the cloaked man was an irregular rock formation, or an oddly growing bush, which had morphed into a man as a result of the adrenaline in her veins and the eerie darkness of night. But to her horror, the form only became more fully human as she turned to face it. It was tall and bulky, with the build of your typical hunter, and all dressed up in full hunter's gear: a dark, concealing cloak, stealth boots, a hood, and an array of cuffs, rope, and weapons hanging about a belt.
"Sorry, sweetheart," the dark figure cooed, stepping toward her into a solitary ray of moonlight, piercing the canopy above. "Looks like tonight is the night. Do me a favor and turn around. Knees on the ground, hands behind your head, fingers inter-locking. I'll be most off put if you make me scramble around in the dirt to cuff you."
Kara didn't move. It wasn't over yet, was it? Certainly, there was some way out. She'd had a few close calls before, perhaps not this close, but still...Her eyes darted about, looking for something. Anything. She didn't know what, exactly, she was looking for, but would recognize it when she saw it. But there was nothing. Only more dense, dark forest. Fine, then, she thought. Still pumped up on adrenaline, she carefully drew a small, silver dagger from her belt, wishing she hadn't wasted the last of her ammo on a couple of rabbits and a fast lunch. She'd lose a fight like this at close range, but if she had to go out, might as well draw a little blood first.The hunter sighed, irritable. "Do we really have to do this?" he grumbled, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "We both know how this ends."
The hunter was tired, which meant this was probably one of his last chases in a month long hunting expedition. Good. Make the tired fucker catch her. "I'm sorry," she replied, preparing herself to lunge. "Coming quietly isn't my policy."
The hunter, glaring hard at her, tried one last time to make his prey see reason. "You're coming with me tonight, and we'll be traveling for a good while afterwards. I can make the trip comfortable, but I don't have to. I could go out of my way to make the next week hell."
"And damage your merchandise?" Kara sneered. "Wonderful. I finally get caught, and I have to get taken in by a low quality distributor? No wonder you're in such a poor mood. Third tier hunters don't get the same cushy commission the big boys get, do they? Most hunters would be thrilled to have another head on the roister, but I bet you've got a commissions cap, don't you?"
The hunter frowned, and Kara knew she'd hit a nerve. So he was from a lower tier slave distributor, probably Xnon or Captly Inc. Fantastic. That was a hard blow to Kara's ego. A solid two months of evasion, and she was going to be taken in by a low paid, second rate hunter working for a notoriously cheap, corner cutting slave distributor.
The insulted hunter reached along his belt for a night stick, and Kara lunged. Already exhausted from running, Kara didn't last long. She dodged a couple blows from the night stick and made a small, red cut along the hunters left forearm, but a moment later rod hit flesh, and she fell, sharp pain running up her right side. The hunter cursed profusely as he knelt into Kara's back, wrestling the dagger from her grasp and pushing her into the dirt, making sure she couldn't wriggle away. "You stupid little cunt! You're proud of yourself are you, fucking up my arm?" He wrestled Kara's arms behind her back and, taking a set of metal cuffs from along his waist, shackled her wrists together. "Big mistake, sweetheart. That little ego boost won't feed you for the next week, will it? Will it keep you warm at night? Give me a few days, and you'll be licking my boots for my food scraps and a chance at a blanket, or a coat." Kara struggled in the dirt, making every effort to twist around and bite or claw at the bastard, but he was much stronger than her. Soon, her ankles were cuffed as well, and she thrown over his shoulder and carried through the woods back to camp.
The camp was well hidden in a clearing surrounded by dense brush. Kara wasn't surprised; it'd be unwise to alert any prey to your presence. There was a single, solitary pick-up truck parked along side a series of tents and a wooden picnic table, probably used to transport newly acquired merchandise out of the Middle River Forest and to a more sizable eighteen wheeler. The vehicle was far too tiny to carry a month's worth of work. In the back of the pick up truck were a few measly cages, and inside a few miserable souls, shackled and gagged. There was also a roaring fire, at the center of camp, encircled by a couple of downed logs, sectioned off to make benches. And a couple of motorcycles, for the hunters to get about. As her captor carried her into camp, Kara began to make out the words painted on the side of the truck: Captly Inc.
Kara didn't know too much about Captly Inc, but she knew enough. They were a large, low quality slave distributor working out of Isleydor. And, more importantly, they were notorious for their "Quantity, Not Quality" business strategy. In other words, Captly made most of its money by cutting corners. Slaves were transported in bulk, in unsafe conditions, usually resulting in numerous nasty wounds and possibly diseases. The medical inspections and work ups were sub par for the market, keeping only up to government regulations and nothing more. Furthermore, the handlers were low-paid, poorly trained ruffians hired for sheer strength rather than their capacity for tracking and safely acquiring high quality product. They used night sticks instead of tazers, and metal cuffs instead of leather.
There were down sides and up sides to being transported by Captly. On the one hand, she'd surely be kept in unsafe and unsanitary conditions with low quality food and little water. She risked malnutrition, potential skin rashes, and illness. On the other hand, if the transport period was short, she could avoid most of these potential problems through basic hygiene practices. And, on the bright side, Captly's clients weren't the wealthiest people in Isleydor. Whoever bought her wouldn't be able to afford fancy tracking implants, an official slave registration number, or decent training equipment. Escaping from a Captly's client would be easy. She'd just have to deal with the unpleasant trip to an outlet, and bide her time.
Kara's captor moved her from her resting place on his shoulder to the forest floor, and none too gently. "You see those god awful cages, sweetheart?" he hissed, motioning to the Captly's pickup truck. "That's where you're going." Kara didn't say anything. Irritated by the lack of response, her captor leaned in closer, his breath hot. "You could be in there for a solid week, maybe even two. That's what you get for fucking up my arm." But Kara didn't bother to acknowledge the sinister sneer on her captor's face. They both knew that the wound she'd inflicted had nothing to do with Captly's sub par transport practices. She'd be crammed in a tiny cage even if she'd skipped her way into the damn camp herself, and begged for a pretty set of cuffs to be locked around her wrists and ankles.
"Got another one, Calvin?" Out of the darkness, another hunter approached, but with two women slung over his shoulders, hog-tied and gagged. "She doesn't look too bad. I might be able to pull twenty grand out of her." With no ceremony at all, the new hunter dumped his cargo onto the ground and his prisoners groaned. "Why don't you put these two away for me?" he asked, motioning to the bundled girls by his feet, and then back at the truck. "I'll look this one over, and then we can log 'em." Without hesitation, Calvin went away to do as he was told and Kara, who was getting bad vibes from the new guy, sat up as best she could onto her knees. This new one wasn't quite as tall as Calvin, and he was certainly a more nimble man, but he had an aura of self assurance and self confidence that made her skin crawl.
He crouched down so that the two of them were eye level, reached behind her head, and grabbed a fistful of hair, which he used to tilt her face into the light. She'd always been told that her blue eyes, deep and dark, were her most attractive feature. The light caught them, and the new guy paused. "You have a name, sweetheart?" he asked, quietly.
Kara shook her head. "No, I don't."
The hunter was not satisfied. "Really? Is that so?" He pushed her, head first, into the dirt, and pulled at the small pack she'd had wrapped around her waist, freeing it. Being tied up, there was no way she'd be able to get free, so she decided to lay out on the ground until he saw fit to let her up again. She could hear him undo the drawstring of the pack, then reach in among her belongings. He'd mostly find survival gear: rope, matches, a portable radio, a few loaves of bread, her last can of soup. But if he felt along the lining of the bag, and found the hidden seam...."Well, look what I've found? A little pouch. Who wants to bet I'll also find some ID?" Dammit. She'd only kept the damn license to prove to other escaped rebels, also in her situation, that she wasn't from Isleydor, that she could be trusted. "Kara Chrystein. What a lovely name. Kara. I like it. You can keep it." And he left her, lying on the ground.