Negotiate.

"If any of us had any sense we would not have been on our way to the pen." Comes a voice you recognise at once, Toni!

The bikers spin around expecting trouble, but Toni simply stands behind them with her hands on her hips and a big grin on her pretty face. A few paces behind Toni is Tamara, looking as if she is about to wet herself. Julia is walking dejectedly up to the other two muttering under her breath with her usual fierce scowl.

"Hey Steph, hey Rihanna." Toni casually greets you. "So this where the party is at? Hogging all these big rough guys for yourself are you, whatever happened to sisterhood?"

"You're the killer." The head biker states looking Toni over. "The description of you on the radio don't do you justice honey."

"You're sweet big guy. My hair is a mess, I'm covered in wet shit and all I got to wear is this fucking orange sack." Toni complains. "Please tell me you got a shower in your secret Hells Angel hideout."

"Got a shower sure enough. No running hot water though." The biker tells the mobster. "Can boil some up on the big ass woodburner in the kitchen though. So how about you little ladies step inside and we can all get better acquainted, break out the weed and booze and party."

There does not seem to be much choice. Fighting or running would be futile and the bikers seem to relaxing due to Toni's banter, it's certain what they want from you band the others. Fucking a gang of bikers for a ride to town would not be your first choice of transportation, but the only choice you can currently see.

Everyone starts to move towards the house. It occurs to you that Toni is no longer carrying the pistol she stole, did she stash it in the woods you wonder. The inside of the farmhouse clearly shows the property has lain abandoned a while. A couple of old couches and a few mismatched chairs are roughly arranged in a circle with packing cases making up for the lack of sufficient seating.

"Well I reckon you oughta get out of those wet clothes before you bitches catch your **** of cold." The leader says after he flops down on the least dilapidated couch. The other bikers all take seats, leaving you and the other escapees in the centre of the circle surrounded by grinning bikers.

"I am fine, my clothes are drying now." Rihanna says sullenly.

"That wasn't a suggestion." The biker replies. "Now you don't want me to rephrase that in unfriendlier terms do you?"