Someone is coming to your rescue?

Before you are even fully aware of being awake once again, you can smell... what you can only describe as a 'strong neutral scent'. When your eyes flicker open you see a dingy wall in front of you, with a peeling poster of a cartoon girl in a spacesuit giving a thumbs up and advertising vacations to some paradise world. Someone has defaced the poster with a pen, making a ring of poorly-illustrated penises surrounding the astro-girl in the picture and spurting all over her. That told you most of what you needed to know about the sophistication of captured you, right there, assuming that this was their hideout - there were a variety of scribbled notes all over the wall besides. Most were numbers and reminders to call such-and-so, but a few of them were what appeared to be lists of body measurements, hair colors, and nicknames. Most of those nicknames including the word 'bitch' or slut' - "Freckle Slut", "Garage Bitch", "Pink/Big Jugs" "Office Bitch", "Greenskin slut #2", and so on. It was looking increasingly less likely that these were bounty hunters who had masterfully tracked you down and set up an ambush, and more like random slavers and lowlifes.

Good news/bad news, that. You bit your lip, flushing and trying to keep calm. They'd be easier to escape. But the consequences for failing in such an attempt might be much, much worse. You tongued around in your mouth and noticed that, fortuitously, your false tooth was still perfectly intact. Seizing the opportunity while you could, you prodded and probed with that dexterous tongue that had gotten you so many compliments in the past, and dislodged the broad-spectrum antidote pill inside, hurriedly swallowing it. Within a few minutes, that should clear up the fog from your mind and banish the leaden feeling from your limbs. Right now, you are lying on your side on what might be a massage table.

Once your most vital concern was addressed, you allowed yourself to take a calming deep breath, and soon the ringing in your ears attenuated away to nothing. In its place, you could hear the distant sound of an animated conversation, coming from behind a nearby door and undoubtedly involving one of the guys who'd grabbed you. Negotiations over the price of a product, by the sound of it, and you had a pretty good idea what (who) said product was. With an insulted wrinkle of your nose, you note that their capture technique was totally sloppy. There were locking manacles around your ankles and keeping your hands behind your back, and not the good, high quality ones that were impossible to finesse open, either.

Just then your heart races as you hear footsteps approaching from behind, out of your field of view. You squeeze your eyes shut and do your best to pretend to still be asleep. A rough hand reaches down and grabs you by the shoulder, rolling you over onto your back. "Hey!" there's the annoying sound of a snapping finger right in your face... and, not having been prepared for it, you flinch just a few centimeters. That's enough to give away your bluff and reveal that you've regained consciousness. "I know you're awake, there. S'alright, I'm not gonna jab you again, I just figured you might wanna know that all the doors are mag-locked and passworded, so ain't no point in trying to make a break for it."

Your eyes open into slits, and you give a hateful glare at the man who'd distracted you while his pal had crept up behind you with the syringe. He was still wearing that bulky black outfit, which you now realize is probably armor in case of uncooperative 'guests'. Whoever that other guy was, he was damn skilled... but it seems like all these guys' skill and gear was being put to the pettiest of uses.

"You can say anything you want, sweetheart," he says with a condescending grin, retrieving a cigarette from a pack he'd had in his hand and producing an old-fashioned brass flick-lighter as he placed it in his mouth. "But I've been doing this for a long damn time, and I warn you, I've heard it all before. Just figured I'd tell you it doesn't need to get rough if you don't want it to."

Involuntarily your eyes flick back to the scribblings on the wall, and the slaver leader, noticing, gives a chuckle as he lights up. "Don't care for the decor? You ain't gotta worry, babe - you'll be getting to meet your new 'daddy' soon enough, just as soon as my buddy Eddy closes the sale. The guy is already here, in the other room. You won't be changing jobs, just working under new management. With, heheheh, a biiit of a pay cut. All of it, to be exact. You know how it goes. I'd give you a spin myself, but we've got a pretty tight quota to meet, and Eddie is always sayin' we shouldn't mix business with pleasure... If this first guy ends up being too cheap to pay our asking price, though, all bets are-"

"HEY!" Another somewhat familiar voice breaks in from behind you. "Clive! You getting greedy and trying to sneak off girls for your own private use, again?"

The smoking slaver - 'Clive', apparently - looks up and mockingly puts his hand over his heart. "Word of honor, I didn't even touch the whore. I remember our agreement."

"I ain't talking about HER." Rolling over onto your back, you see that the guy who just stormed in is the other one who'd helped corner you - a bulky, top-heavy skinhead type of guy with a skull tattoo crawling over half of his face.

"Charming." you mutter to yourself, but the newcomer ignores you and points up, continuing to spit words angrily at his partner: "I heard some rustling up in the upstairs room earlier, and when I went to check it, the door was locked! Don't play dumb, Clive. Stop being an asshole, go bring whichever other whore you nabbed down here, and let's make this a double sale. We ain't exactly been delicate in our biz the last couple of days, and we need to finish up and get off this rock before the heat starts closing in."

Clive takes a drag of his cigarette and rubs his chin. "Locked, huh? That shouldn't be. Since Eddie is still negotiating, we better go and have a look." Casually he pulls a heavy-caliber handgun from a back holster and manually cocks the slide. "The bitch will be fine here, Eddie is just in the other room and I figure the sale will be done any minute."

Both slavers head up a nearby stairway... and you dare to hope that someone really might be here to help you, though you can't imagine who. 10 long minutes pass, though, and you don't hear any kind of commotion.

Instead, the next person to make their presence known is a third man in one of those featureless black sets of armor. This must be 'Eddie', and he's the most unpleasant-looking of them yet. He's tall, lanky, pale, and his tangled brown mullet looks greasy enough to fry eggs on. When he smiles, he reveals a dirty smile with about half the teeth missing, and one of his eyes is a solid red cybernetic job that glows menacingly like an ember. "Here comes the bride... heeeeere comes the bride..." he murmurs threateningly as he stalks up to you. The way he moves is slow, deliberate, and extremely predatory, like a Velurian star-panther padding towards its prey. You try to writhe away from his touch instinctively and are a tiny bit relieved when he just grabs you by the wrist shackles, pulling you to an upright position.

"Good timing waking up, heh heh ehh..." he says, his every word a creepy half-whisper. You aren't sure that you have ever seen someone who put as much effort into looking and acting so... well, rapey. Maybe it's a deliberate choice, on account of such mannerisms being an asset in his line of work. Leaving nothing to chance, 'Eddie' jabs the unpowered prongs of a heavy-duty taser into your back and marches you towards an adjoining door.

Blinking at the sudden increase in light, you find yourself in what appears to be a tiny parking garage - it would seem this hideout is in some kind of abandoned motel. There only vehicle you can see, though, is a black sedan with a pudgy, dark-skinned man wearing a loud, and extremely tasteless canary-yellow suit, with a gold or platinum ring on every finger. No matter what planet or station you're on, you think to yourself with a furrow of your brow, pimps are always the same. In all honesty, you're just... disappointed. These guys were nothing special, and you weren't anything special to them. If only they knew what family you came from. "Pearls before swine..." you mutter.

"Mmmm-mm," the yellow-dressed client says. "Sure enough, she looks as good as she did in the picture. Got myself a long weekend ahead, breaking her in. Always did wanna try breaking a-"

But before he can get any further, there is an echoing explosion and a crash! You, the flamboyant scumbag who'd come to buy you, and even Eddie are all caught flat-footed and jerk your heads upwards towards the source of the noise as one. One of the skylights in the roof of the garage has been blasted out, causing a shower of plastic safety glass to rain down. And what followed that...

...well, suffice to say that it would've been the most welcome sight you were treated to today even if you hadn't been desperately hoping for any chance of deliverance from these slavers. A vision of curvaceous feminine beauty slowly descended through the new opening accompanied by the sharp hiss and streaking blue flames of two thrusters. The mysterious newcomer was wearing a silver wing-style jetpack attached to her back, but that was a distant third in the list of noticeable things about her... the first two being a figure that could make any woman jealous (even you, you had to admit) and her choice of uniform.