Fighting Chance

by Paulette Oakes

  A lone tear escaped Jessica’s eye to track across the thick makeup on her face. “And the only people who ask me out are sleazy Hollywood playboys who just want to be photographed with the new hot starlet on their arm. They don’t care about me as a person. They only care about what my fame can do for them,” she added, her voice dripping with venom. “But if I could learn to do some of my own stunts, they would have to treat me with respect, right? I can show them all that I’m more than just a pretty face.”

  “You are already more than a pretty face, Jess!” Mahoney insisted. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve been saying? You are smart, funny, down-to-earth, incredibly talented, and have so much to offer. Stop putting yourself down. I don’t like it.”

  Jessica chewed her lip, scraping away a layer of lipstick as she regarded her friend carefully. “I promise I will let this go if you do one thing for me.”

  Mahoney narrowed her slanted eyes and searched her friend’s dancing eyes for a clue. “You know I can’t tell you no, but I reserve the right to protest.”

  Her wide, blue eyes brightened with excitement. “I want to hire you to teach me how to fight.”

  Mahoney groaned loudly and threw her head back in defeat. She counted to five and took a deep breath, buying time to figure out how to get out of her bargain. Finally, she sat back up and bent a stern look at the fresh, lovely face of the young woman. She already knew her friend had a stubborn streak a mile wide, so the only option she had left was to shape the terms to her advantage.

  “Fine, but I have conditions,” she capitulated. Before Jessica could do more than clap her hands with glee, she added sternly, “Number one, I will not accept payment from you. I have more money than I can use as it is. Two, I will not teach you how to fight.” She silenced her friend’s outraged objection before it could get started. “I will teach you self-defense. It is completely different than fighting, but it will keep you safe and give you the power you need to be in control. We will meet as often as you want and as long as you want, providing both of our schedules are free. Deal?”

  Before she could change her mind, Jessica jumped out of her chair and stuck her hand toward Mahoney and agreed. “Deal!”

  Before they could complete their firm handshake, the deep rumble of Bruce’s voice floated through the metal walls of the trailer. They couldn’t make out his words, but his voice continued to rise in agitation until his voice boomed, “I said, STOP!”

  The hair on Mahoney’s arms stood on end, and a feeling of dread washed over her. She had learned a long time ago to never ignore her instincts, and they were screaming that danger lurked right outside that door. Grabbing Jessica by the arm, she shoved her to the back of the trailer, and pushed her behind the overstuffed chair.

  “Get down and hide!” she growled, waiting only long enough to ensure that the frightened actress complied.

  The unmistakable sounds of a fight filtered through the walls as grunts and the sounds of fists hitting flesh spurred her into action. Her eyes raced around the trailer looking for weapons, but there was nothing to be found. Her eyes landed on a wooden-handled broom propped in the corner where the hairdresser had left it after trimming her wig to more closely resemble Jessica’s hair. She snatched it, braced it against the floor, and brought her heel down to snap the bristled end off leaving jagged splinters in its place.

  A heavy weight slammed against the side of the trailer causing it to shake before complete silence descended outside. When Bruce didn’t immediately assure them that it was all clear, she knew that he had lost the fight. A frightened whimper reminded her of her duty, and she whispered to Jess, “Hush. No matter what happens, do not make a sound.”

  Mahoney faced the door, bracing her feet and clenching the erstwhile staff with white knuckles. She didn’t have to wait long until the door opened slowly. The trailer sagged under the weight of the man who carefully peered around the doorframe to scout the interior. His eyes met Mahoney’s and widened in surprise to see her standing there brandishing a weapon. Not waiting for him to make his intentions clear, Mahoney darted forward and brought the full weight of her body down on the man’s head with the solid wood stick and then kicked forward with her combat boot square in his face to send him flying out the door.

  He landed with a harsh grunt and several growled words in a language she had never heard before. She took two seconds to scan the area and saw three men, including the one on the ground, all dressed in the same shirt Bruce was wearing. Bruce was out cold on the ground, and she only hoped that he was still alive. Slamming the door shut, she raced into action.

  “Jess! Call 911 and get the police here, pronto. There’s some goons outside dressed like security, but I’ve never seen them before. I can hold them off until help gets here,” she hissed, already unplugging the mini fridge and dragging it over to brace against the door. It wouldn’t hold them for long, but it might buy them a few precious minutes.

  Her voice full of panicked tears, she cried, “I already tried! My phone isn’t getting a signal. They must have a jammer with them!”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mahoney cursed, her mind racing to come up with options.

  A hard weight threw itself against the door sending the fridge flying across the trailer to crash into the wall and the door was yanked clean off its hinges. Mahoney’s heartbeat began thrum, sending adrenaline coursing through her veins. Their only way out was through that door and the three men now crowding into its opening.

  She braced herself, watching the men carefully. They were big bastards, too. She judged them to be well over six feet tall, maybe close to seven, since they had to duck to keep their heads from brushing the ceiling. The man in front eyed her warily as she brandished the staff. His skin was deeply bronzed, but his eyes were eerily light gray, almost seeming to glow in the shadows of the darkening sky coming through the open door. Her eyes flicked quickly to the other two men, noticing that they also had the same coloring, but their eyes were different shades of the pale, ghostly light. They were all three so thickly muscled that the stolen shirts seemed painted on their chests and the width of their bodies stretched and distorted the white lettering.

  The man she had kicked was glaring at her angrily as he ran his hand across his nose to wipe away the dark stains of blood. The third man, easily the biggest of the three, watched the scene before him with almost casual disinterest with his thick arms crossed over his chest. She took a quick moment to appreciate his rugged handsomeness with his closely shorn hair and scraggly beard. She had always been a sucker for a good beard. Too bad she was going to have to hurt him.

  The man on point took a step toward her and she edged forward to halt him. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I suggest you leave now before you regret it,” she hissed threateningly.

  The two men in front shot a confused look to their leader and spoke a few words of a foreign language. Mahoney realized that he must be the leader of this farce, and narrowed her eyes when his pale green gaze met hers. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth had her seeing red. He was laughing at her!

  He gave a brief nod of his head and the man in front once again turned toward her. Her eyes watched as the muscles in his thighs bunched, and she flew into action when he charged her. Wielding her staff with deadly accuracy, she brought the weapon down on the side of his head right where his ear was and spun low to sweep his legs out from under him. Not stopping to see if he was still moving, she twirled the staff and brought it down on his chest to puncture his shoulder with the jagged end of the broken handle.

  She danced back away from the men and resumed her ready pose as the man bellowed and snarled words she couldn’t understand. The soft, muffled sounds of Jessica’s tears reached her, but she refused to turn and check on her. All traces of a smile were gone from the bearded man’s face as he studied her with shrewd eyes. Jessica’s sobs were getting louder, and Mahoney’s stomach dropped when his eyes left her and focused on the chair behind her.

/>   With a few terse words to his injured men, he stepped aside as they made their way back out of the trailer. Her heart began to lift with hope, but soon dropped when he reached to the waist of his pants and pulled out a small black object. It didn’t look like any gun she had ever seen before, but she wasn’t about to stop and ask questions.

  In a flurry of movement, Mahoney darted forward twirling the staff and lunging at the mountainous man in front of her. Faster than his goons, he darted and dodged each attack while continuing to advance on her. In desperation, she spun the staff and brought it down on the hand holding the weapon with a sharp crack. He didn’t drop it like she hoped, but she was slightly mollified when he spit out what sounded like a curse.

  With her chest heaving for air, she growled, “This is your last warning. I’ve been nice up until now, but if you don’t leave, I will hurt you.”

  Again with the slight lift of the lips. In fragmented, heavily accented English, he replied, “I like your spirit. I will be taking you, too.”

  Mahoney felt the blood rush out of her face at his words. Before she could bring her staff up to attack, however, he pressed a button on the device in his hand. A bright flare of florescent light blinded her eyes a split second before a jolt of electricity seized her body. Then there was nothing but blackness.

  Chapter Three

  Wakefulness came to her slowly and had her fading in and out of consciousness. Every time she thought she could make it to the surface, the pounding in her head had her diving back for the depths. There was something important she was supposed to remember, but it slipped between her fingers like grains of sand.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she swam toward the surface of her mind, but hesitated to wake fully. She felt light, cool touches across her face and twinges of pain as the bobby pins and clips were pulled gently to free her hair from the hated wig. The low hum of machinery droned in the background, almost lulling her back to sleep, but the rumble of voices kept her from falling back into darkness.

  “What is the purpose of this false hair, Commander?” a lilting feminine voice inquired close her head.

  “I believe they call it a ‘wig’ in her English language,” a deep, familiar voice answered. “According to their records, it is used primarily as a beauty enhancement or for those suffering from a grave illness that causes their natural hair to fall out.”

  Soft, gentle fingers combed through her chin-length, silky black hair. “I know she carries no illness at the present, or else the scans would have alerted me. Her own natural hair is far lovelier than the hideous ‘wig’ thing.”

  An amused snort came from the foot of her bed. “She was dressed identically to the target and stood before her as a protector. I can only assume that she was dressed in such a way as to be a decoy. I cannot fathom how they knew we were coming. There were no mentions of our craft on any of their communications.”

  The delicate touches continued across her face, gently probing the bones before moving downward to touch on her right arm. “I am concerned, Commander. Though the scans show no trace of illness, it has found evidence of abuse to her muscular and skeletal structures.”

  “Explain,” his answer was swift and harsh.

  The faint sounds of beeping floated across the empty space before the lyrical sounds of the voice continued. “Look at the scans. You can see healed fractures here and here on the bones of her left cheek and eye socket. That is only the beginning. The muscles that are highlighted in red have been stretched or torn before they were allowed to heal. The areas highlighted in blue are scars and abrasions marring her skin. In total, there are 47 healed breaks and fractures to her bones from the top of her head to her toes.”

  “What is this metal object here?” his voice questioned.

  “That appears to be a medical device to shore up a weakened bone from a bad injury. Their medical technology is still in the primitive stages. They have not even advanced to using cellular reproduction in order to heal wounds,” she sniffed, clearly unimpressed.

  “Hmm. And this small, white prong here? What is its intended purpose?” he grumbled, curiosity lacing his voice.

  The female cleared her voice and paused before answering. “According to their international database, it appears to be a treatment fashioned of plastic called an intrauterine device. It is a method of preventing reproduction while also stopping the monthly flow of blood that precedes the period of ovulation.”

  Anger simmered in his voice when he growled, “Who sterilized her? Can it be reversed?”

  A small chuckle escaped the female’s mouth. “You must remember our research, Commander. Humans number in the billions, so it is not unheard of for their women to choose to remain sterile. Many of their women plan to conceive at a time of their own choosing, and will use a contraceptive until they feel the time is right to create new life.”

  “Proceed with corrective treatment and remove the metal and plastic from her body. It is unnatural,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

  She gave one anyway. “I agree that the pin should be removed and the bone restored, however, I will not remove the contraceptive device unless she chooses to do so. She has already been forcibly removed from her home and will have many obstacles to overcome thanks to your stubbornness. I will not take this decision away from her, too,” she answered, her own voice full of resolve.

  A deep growl sent Mahoney swimming for the surface, her body fighting to regain consciousness in an effort to protect the woman from the wrath of the angry male. A beeping alarm caused a flurry of movement.

  “She is starting to wake, Commander,” the female reported, her voice harried. “You must leave so that I can continue the treatment.”

  “Report immediately when it is finished,” came his terse reply.

  Mahoney struggled to open her eyes, fighting off the waves of pain pounding through her head. A blurry shadow bent over her face and cool fingers traced over her cheeks. “Back to sleep, young one. You will feel much better when you next wake.”

  And the darkness swallowed her again.

  Chapter Four

  Mahoney rolled over onto her side and snuggled into the warm softness of the bed. Absently, the thought floated through her mind that she didn’t remember the hotel bed being this comfortable, but she dismissed it in favor of returning to the delicious dream she was having about Gerard Butler from the movie 300.

  Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas. With a sigh of regret, Mahoney stretched her arms and legs, relishing the feeling of energy and total relaxation coursing through her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she had awoken without myriad aches and pains flaring to life in her body from her previous day’s work as a stuntwoman or after a vigorous match against an opponent in the ring.

  When her body could no longer deny the urgent need for relief, she finally opened her eyes and tossed back the covers of her bed. Her brows crinkled in confusion as her gaze roamed across the unfamiliar room. Jumping to her feet, she was instantly alert as her body prepared for flight or fight. She appeared to be alone in this strange place, but she proceeded with caution until her suspicions were confirmed.

  Besides the bed, the room was spartan in its unnatural cleanliness. There was no discernable scent to the air and the floors were solid navy and cushioned under her bare feet. Glancing down, she saw that she was dressed in a simple, loose tunic of stretchy black material, but her undergarments were missing. The only other items in her room, besides the bed, were a small table and two chairs made out of some type of material that appeared to be a cross between wood and plastic. A panel on the wall flashed with different colored lights and strange symbols she had never seen before.

  Ignoring her aching bladder, she cautiously padded over to investigate the panel. Reaching out her hand, her fingers hovered over the complex electrical system, but she was too nervous to touch it. Promising herself she would return for further study, she prowled over to test the door at the front of th
e room. It had no door frame and appeared to be no more than a sliding wall, but all her efforts to make it budge did nothing but make her wish for a bathroom even more fervently.

  “Where the hell is the bathroom?” she murmured out loud, her eyes scanning the strange room carefully.

  An uncharacteristic squeak escaped her mouth as a portion of the wall on the left side of the room slid open with a soft swish. When nothing rushed out to attack her, she crept toward the opening and peered inside. With a sigh of relief, she saw a metallic bowl attached to the wall vaguely in the shape of a toilet, as well as, an enclosed closet that resembled a shower stall. Choosing to ignore the unusual design, she gratefully made use of the facilities.

  When she finished, she looked around curiously for the toilet paper and began to get worried when she didn’t spot anything to wipe herself with. “Where the hell is the toilet paper?” she asked aloud, beginning to get angry.

  Another squeal of surprise split the air as a clicking noise sounded from the bowl and a concentrated beam of warmth bathed her skin that was exposed to the toilet. Startled, she jumped up from the seat to inspect herself. To her utter surprise, her entire bottom was dry and free of any moisture.

  “What the fuck?” she cursed, her skin pebbling with goose bumps as she stood frozen in place.

  A disembodied male voice answered, “Command not found. Please rephrase your command.”

  Mahoney jumped and stifled a scream behind her hand, her eyes rolling wildly around the room looking for the owner of the voice.

  When nothing happened after several moments of tense silence, she decided to break it herself. “Hello? Is there anyone here?”

  “Hello. Current occupation is one human female,” the voice answered her again.