Max is 'Rescued'

"Please, no," Max whispered.

Jonas, piece of shit that he was, grinned and rubbed his bulging crotch - but Max's sudden feeling of despair hadn't anything to do with what was in the bastard's pants. The beautiful ex-soldier had already resigned herself to that sickening indignity the moment she let Jonas bind her wrists.

It was what she was hearing, what she knew would soon be coming through her door that caused Max to groan. That caused her eyes to blink shut and her mind to race. She would be needing a plan. An out.

Badly.

Max's heart quickened, and the few seconds she had slowed and stretched out before her. But... however long those seconds felt... however quickly her mind turned, Max was... blank. Jonas, the prick, had left her with nothing. She was naked. Her friends were **** because of her. And she had nothing. And she was running out of -

Out of time. Max's eyelids snapped open.

And just like she knew they would, like she had heard and felt, at that instant Max's neighbors, Doyle Peterson and his wife - his wife... Nancy, burst through splintered door of her apartment.

Armed.

An extra-long socket wrench shook threateningly in one of Mrs. Peterson's hand. First at the door frame, then at Jonas.

"Come here, Miss." Nancy Peterson's voice was firm, but soothing. Warning Jonas and coaxing what in her mind was a frightened, naked girl at the same time. "Nice and easy, ain't nobody gonna hurt ya'."

A few feet away, a heavy metal pipe was being squeezed in Mr. Peterson's thick, nervous fingers.

And behind her, Max felt and heard Jonas reaching for something. She was almost sure he didn't have a gun or anything large, she would have felt it - but he could have pepper spray or some other weapon, and he definitely had a way to communicate with his surely well-armed driver.

God fucking dammit.

Tied up or no, Max could take care of herself. She didn't need her two well-meaning neighbors, and they were either about to get seriously hurt, or Jonas and thus her friends were - or both. Max had to somehow protect her friends, herself, her neighbors, and yes, also the bastard who was riding this mess for all it was worth.

"Listen, people, you're making a big mistake." Max had seen Jonas nervous before, and although on the surface he was cool she could tell he was more than a little uneasy about the unexpected confrontation. "Everything here is perfectly consensual - isn't it Max?"

... Hardly. But Max gave the most convincing nod she could manage with her hands tied behind her back. Anything to stop this from deteriorating further.

"Naw, naw." Nancy shook her head, "I've seen plenty o' people playing games before. That," The chubby older woman gestured to Max's splintered doorframe with her heavy socket wrench, "Ain't no kinda game. You come here, Sweetie." Miss Peterson squared off with Jonas, while her less-certain-looking husband took a glance at the open escape behind them. "We take care of our own 'round here, Mister - you git into that fancy car o' yours and you remember that!" Mrs. Peterson shook her weapon menacingly.

"Amazing..." The silver-haired man muttered, and sighed. "Maybe we can come to a little financial arrangement..." Jonas's coat rustled as he reached further inside.

"Keep yer dirty hands where I can see 'em!" Wrench in hand, Nancy Peterson strode forward menacingly, somehow filling her dumpy middle-aged frame with all the threatening presence of an enraged mother bear.

Too fast. She was coming too fast for Max to do anything except stop her, physically, before something irreversible happened.

A naked, brown blur intercepted Mrs. Peterson mid-stride. Max didn't want to hurt her would-be savior's wrists, and didn't want to hurt her ankle either. With her hands still bound behind her, Max somersaulted, grabbed with the pads of her feet, and wrested for the weak point where Mrs. Peterson's fingers met her palm.

Surprise was on her side, and the socket wrench went flying before Max bounded to her feet.

Surprise was definitely on her side. For a moment the room was still, voices turned off. Mrs. Peterson, bereft of her weapon, stumbled backwards.