THE ORACLE’S TOLL

A LARA CROFT and MELISSA GALLANT ADVENTURE

by The Third Thane

Thanks to Melissa Gallant, collaborator on this story and inspiration for its main character.

Thanks also to L’espion for his help and editing.

This story is based upon his work and characters. If you like this story, you’ll LOVE his serials.

CHAPTER TWO

Amateur

“How the Hell did I let this happen,” Melissa wondered to herself as she looked up at her locked wrists. She woke up several minutes before, her head swimming from whatever shit the guy at the museum put on that rag. “No headache, at least that’s something.” It was the only part of her predicament that was remotely positive.

She was standing in a warehouse, within a forest of packing crates and work equipment. A new forklift was parked a few yards away, next to a bench of tools. The only light came from the other side of the large room, leaving her bathed in near darkness. She was standing with her back against a massive piece of stone, larger than a wall. Most of stone was covered in protective plastic, but a portion had been torn off where she was standing. What looked like an elephant’s trunk far above her grasped an iron ring. Heavy chain was locked through the iron ring, and through the Irish Eights. The shiny steel pulled her wrists high over her head. No slack, no play at all. Her ankles were each padlocked separately with the same type of chain, pulled wide apart and secured out of sight. Her mouth had been taped, but no wadding was used. “Amateur,” Melissa thought. She tried to manipulate the tape off her cheeks by forcing her lips open. Nothing. It was then she noticed the roll of industrial packing tape on the table. It was stickier and stronger than surgical tape. “Maybe not so amateur,” she mused. Her clothes were folded on the workbench. All of them.

The chained pulled her wrists too high for her fingers to reach down to the lock on the eights. The chain ran between her wrists as well, complicating the problem. Her trained eyes had just begun to scan the room for potential lock-picking material, when she heard a car arrive outside. Muffled voices and car door sounds followed. “That son of a bitch is back,” she thought.

Melissa hung her head, feigning sedation. She heard a heavy door open, and a single set of footsteps approach. Italian leather on concrete. She didn’t have to look up to see who it was. Her mind flashed recognition for a moment. Did she know this guy somehow?

“Miss Gallant?” He approached closer. “Melissa?”

Melissa moaned, softly under her gag, but loud enough for him to hear.

“Miss Gallant, did you say...”

She rocked her head slightly, mumbling again. “That’s it, come on in,” she thought.

“Are you awake?” She moaned without looking up. The man leaned in toward her face. “What are you trying to...” Melissa’s head fired upward, but made no contact. The man was ready this time, and pulled back at the last moment. “Whoa, so you ARE awake. You weren’t going to get away with that trick again. As the Chinese say, fool me once, shame on you, but...” He grabbed the edge of the tape, and pulled the gag off.

“SHIT, that hurt!” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She looked the man straight in the eyes. She moved her cheeks, trying to get the raw sting to subside. She did know this guy from somewhere. “You lied to me about the bomb, didn’t you? Little coward.”

“Well of course I did.” His nose was swollen and was a pallet of angry purple and green. “You think I would risk destroying one of my galleries. For this?! If you had had another 30 seconds to consider the situation, you would have figured that out. That’s why I had to move quickly. Now, let’s get down to...”

“I know who are. You’re Harriman, something. The Harriman Museum and Gallery! That’s your family. You are in a truck-load of trouble, pretty boy. They are going to LOVE you in the federal pen.”

“Julian Harriman. You need to tell me what you know about Lara Croft. She came by your office on...”

“When I get out of here, and I’m going to get out, it’ll be a real hard choice of whether to call the cops or just kill you myself. I have to think about this.”

“Miss Gallant, you asked me at the museum to tell you where Croft was. Do you know where...”

“Getting the FBI in here means you lose everything, family fortune, dignity, that museum. I’ll bet the news coverage is everywhere!!”

“Melissa, we don’t have much time. I urgently need to know...”

“But you can’t beat the old –school satisfaction of personally shoving a knife in your gut. Don’t want to deny myself the revenge factor.”

“Tell me what you and Croft talked about!” He raised his voice for the first time.

“No. How about that. Just, NO. You can’t possibly believe that a spoiled shit like you is going to make me say anything. You could snap on 500 feet of chain, I’m not telling you anything.”

“Just... where she said she was going. If I had some piece of information, then I could try...”

“Oh, all you want to know is where she went. Where she went? Well, I’ll tell you that. She went off to Asscrackistan, flew into the Capital City of TimFuckYou. That was easy, can I go now?!?”

“Unless you tell me EVERTHING you know about Croft’s location, what she wanted, it’s going to get very difficult for you. You’re forcing me to...”

“What? Forcing you to do WHAT? I’d love to hear you finish that sentence. What are YOU going to do? You don’t strike me as the torture type Jules.”

“I’m not.” His voiced lowered to a whisper. “But we truly don’t have much time, and my NOSE HURTS!!!”

“Well, you should have considered all the risks when you decided to become a felon this morning. If you let me go, I might just call the cops, and not kill you.”

“I work with some people who are not going to find the same humor in your attitude that I do. What did Croft want at your office?”

“Piss off, twice!!”

Harriman turned his back and walked to the tool bench. He returned with a bundle of leather, a cord, and an unusual Hitachi wand. With speed that surprised Melissa, Harriman buckled the leather harness around her waist. He then plugged in the wand and fastened it with the leather snug against her pussy. “You’re gonna torture me with a sex-toy??? Didn’t you do any research on this before today? Read a book by Cheney, nothing?!”

Next came the distinctive sound of tape pulled from a roll. Harriman slapped a six inch piece across her face, then two more. He finished by wrapping a piece all the way around her head, overlapping several inches. “No removing THAT,” she thought.

“That should shut your ass up. You’re really going to wish that you just told me about Croft.” He cinched up the leather tight, the wand covering her completely. “You think that’s a sex-toy? I got that on a visit to North Korea, trading for smuggled Cambodian art. Blackest of black market stuff. It’s an interrogation device, developed by the Korean military police. Once turned on, it varies in speed and intensity. The head warms up, and actually conforms to the shape of your pussy. It builds power slowly, over 20 minutes. But I’m told no one, not one single female prisoner or test subject, has lasted that long. It supposed to literally drive you insane. They’ve documented cases of permanent mental impairment. I’ve got some business to take care of. We’ll see how much mouth you’ve got when I get back. See you in 30 minutes!”

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