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Roxwell Stories: Dancer and the Deliverer (Part 3)

by Chrocey

Chrocey
A volley of needles pierced through the wooden door that had been shoddily fitted to the bunker’s door frame. A last-minute renovation to allow Raul some privacy, undoubtedly. The needles punctured the wood with little effort, and buried themselves inside Josue’s back. He barely had time to react before the door was bashed inward into a flurry of splinters, sending the man hurdling forward.

As he hit the floor, he let out a gurgled cry of pain. His body like a grotesque porcupine.

The second man in the room, presumably a hired goon, instinctively tried to withdraw a weapon from underneath his jacket.

“Charlene! Glare!” Diana exclaimed. The Arbok turned and gazed at the man before his weapon could even be seen. Her eyes glowed blue and the man soon found himself stricken with paralysis. Unable to do anything to defend himself.

Raul began backing away from the pokemon when he felt a sharp pressure on the back of his leg falter him onto his knees. Then, a thud against the back of his head that made his world fade to black.

Charlene looked to her trainer as Diana seemingly managed to work her hands out of their bindings.

“Well...” she said, undoing the rope that had been tied around her ankles, “I suppose they aren’t professionals now are they?”

_________________________

“I believe your words were ‘any port in a storm’, is that correct?” Diana paced around the large man as he struggled against the Arbok that was coiled around him. A piece of cloth gagged him but he tried to yell passed it, to no avail.

“‘Any port in a storm’,” Diana chuckled, “it’s such a lewd term, don’t you think? It implies that the sexual libido of a male is akin to a life or death situation, and because of this it is understandable they perform intercourse on anyone or anything so as to satisfy their erotic fantasies and keep them from capsizing.”

Diana stopped in front of the man and placed her finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at her. “I am to assume that I am a port, yes?”

The man continued to fight his restraint, cursing muffled by the gag in his mouth.

“Perhaps you can answer this as well, if I am a port, then what does that make you, hm? A ship?” Her gaze became icy as her words were sharp. “Perhaps I should take this as a compliment because, unlike ports, ships can sink.”

The dancer looked away and continued to walk around the chair Raul was bound to. A vulture, waiting for her prey to die. She opened her mouth to say more, but was suddenly interrupted.

“Drop the analogies!”

Diana stopped her pacing. Her body stood upright as his outburst had surprised her. It would seem that she hadn’t tied the cloth around his head tight enough.

“Okay,” she said calmly, “then we will substitute words with action.”

The stoic woman nodded to her Pokemon, and Charlene sank her fangs into the man’s shoulder.
Merciless Medic and BurbleBurble like this.
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