Disclaimer: This story contains consensual and non-consensual, graphic, BDSM sexual activity between women. Don't like it---don't read it. It is an uber story and you will know the characters when you see them. I claim only the story.

I would like to say thanks to Klancy7, Lisa, Aria, Heron W., Sirius, Dagger, DJ and all the other writers at the Kindred Spirit Lodge for offering encouragement, beta reading, tech support, friendship, sisterhood, and follow through.

If you wish to give feedback, please feel free to contact me. No flaming please. Thanks ~ Dana bardicway@comcast.net

Leave It To Chance

By Dana L’Wood


Marianne Shipman was 27 years old. She came from what some referred to as trailer trash stock in Barstow, California. She spent most of her young life pretending to be something else. But she never could pull it off. There was always that unpolished look and brash speech that gave her away, not to mention the type of men she went for. Like Larry. He was the kind of man who took a shower only after working on the ’77 Chevette for two days. If he was drinking and he usually was, the shower would wait even longer.

Marianne worked hard at the local cannery just on the outskirts of town. She made a decent wage and even managed to save some money that Larry didn’t know about. She was going to leave. San Diego was her goal. Her cousin, Tracy lived there. They wrote often and Tracy supported her desire to get out of this trap of a life, enough to offer her a place to come ‘til she could get on her feet.

It made no difference to Marianne that Tracy was hooked up to some woman with a leather jacket and a Harley. She was some kind of modern day Robin Hood on wheels from the sound of her.

Marianne felt like singing. Today was the day. She got off work at noon, paycheck in hand. She went to the bank and pulled out her savings. "Six thousand dollars" she thought. She never held that much money before and it was all hers and saved in secret.

The small town cannery worker was not stopping at home. There was nothing there but a broken down Chevette and a drunken cowboy who wasn’t going to get sober any time soon. The bus ticket to San Diego was surprisingly cheap. Marianne stepped on board, turning her back on Barstow, California and an empty past.


Tracy understood that Marianne chose to take the Greyhound because she didn’t have to arrange for the ticket or a ride to the airport. That Larry must be a piece of work. The buses came and went. The one from Barstow was on time but didn’t carry her cousin. Tracy worried. What if the bastard caught her and hurt her. Marianne wrote of his choice brutalities. Tracy felt a twist inside. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Chance was probably home by now. The beautiful blonde dancer breathed in relief when she heard Chance on the other end.

"Hiya gorgeous. Where are you two? These burgers turn to something scary when they get cold." Chance declared into the phone. She stood tall in her chaps and thin leather vest. The jacket was tossed on the overstuffed chair by the fireplace in the high-rise condo she shared with her partner and forever lover, Tracy.

"She didn’t show, Chance. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried."

Chance heard genuine fear in her lover’s voice. "Wait honey. Did you talk to the driver?"

"Yes. He told me he made lots of stops and doesn’t pay that much attention to who gets on and off. But he looked on his ticket log and it showed that he did pick up several passengers in Barstow." Tracy took a breath. "He says he does remember that only one of them was a woman and she might have been in her late twenties, dark hair. Chance, she got on but didn’t get off, not here. What should I do?"

"Does she have your cell number?"


"Hang up, check your messages and come home." Chance left out what she thought might have happened. She wanted to save it for later, when Tracy was home and sitting down.



Earlier that day, Chance checked in with her Motorcycle pack. It was her habit since she formed the all woman team two years ago after she and Tracy came home to the States from Nicaragua. They were known to themselves and to those they helped as the Road Wolves. Chance developed this highly skilled team of women when she realized how little the cops could do in certain situations such as domestic violence, rape and the murder of women and children every day.

Chance’s ‘Wolves’ were vigilantes. They worked and got justice done without the help of the "injustice system." Of course they stayed underground and had to hide their tracks constantly. Most of the cops Chance came across were in some politician or some gangster’s pocket. Chance didn’t really think there was a difference.


The Wolves’ storefront was none other than a cycle shop where plenty of legitimate work was done. It was Angel, a first rate mechanic and an expert at information networking, who came to Chance and told her of a gang of bad boys who were "stealing chickies" who were traveling alone. Apparently, the bus system was the best because of the numerous stops. Passengers were free to get off for a meal. That was when they were lured away. "What is happening to them?" Chance wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

"Se vende Amiga. There are plenty of buyers in the mid Eastern countries and in Russia."

Now Chance was sure she didn’t want the answer. Selling women and children as sexual slaves rankled like a festering wound in the ex mercenary. Still, since it wasn’t happening locally, Chance consigned the info to the low priority file in her mind and left it alone… until now.

Tracy came through the door of their stylish condo like a woman on a mission. She found Chance at the computer looking for all the world as if she was just zoning out at solitaire or something. "Well? What are we going to do? What do you know? Where is Marianne?"

Chance was always amazed at the way Tracy asked questions as if she was certain that Chance would have the solution to everything. Usually she did have that solution. But this time Chance was at a loss of just where to begin. She turned in her seat and stood up. She gazed down at her beautiful lover sending a warning. When she saw that Tracy read her meaning and fell silent, she spoke. "First I’ll tell you what I know, then I’ll tell you what we are going to do. I don’t know exactly where Marianne is but I am reasonably sure she is alive." Chance watched fear fade in the remarkable emerald eyes and watched again as it returned.

"What, Chance? Please tell me." Tracy let herself be led to the large cream colored leather couch. She sat in exact unison with Chance never losing eye contact with her dominant lover. She trusted Chance. In what Tracy now believed to be centuries worth of time and love and very often trials, she had come to know and understand this dark warrior of a woman. She waited.


Chance was quite a picture astride her black Harley. Her long black hair was braided and wrapped in leather at the back. She wore a full helmet and mask. Trips on the highway for any length of time would be brutal without it. She never was fond of scraping bugs from her face and teeth. She roared into Barstow alone. The rest of the pack were ready and waiting for word of a plan.

Barstow was dull. Chance thought it had the ambience of a coffin actually. She could see this as enough of a reason for Tracy’s cousin to want out. When she wheeled down the dumpy little avenue and up to the cluttered yard with a beat up 77 Chevette in front, she was close to running herself. The sight of Larry all but falling out the screen door as she walked up did nothing to make her feel better.

Her conversation with Marianne’s drunken boyfriend revealed nothing unexpected. He was all pissy over her leaving and told Chance when she found the "little whore" to let her know that he really didn’t give a shit anyway. Chance knew in an instant that this piece of crap didn’t have the brains or the motivation to lift a finger one way or another. She decided to find the bus station.

The ticket agent barely looked at Chance when she asked questions. He just tossed a schedule of stops between Barstow and San Diego down on the counter. He wasn’t unfriendly, just bored. The biker took a seat and studied the schedule. After a few minutes she pulled her cell phone from her jacket and called Angel. "Send Miranda, Angel" Chance said in a decision made from experience with how the Latina took to action. Tell her to bring an overnight bag and a book. She’s gonna be traveling. Tell her to meet me at the motel by the Greyhound station. There is only one and it ain’t pretty. The sooner she can mount that hog of hers and get her pretty ass up here the better." Angel muttered some kind of assent and hung up.

The motel was as cheerless as the rest of the town. Chance got her room and settled down to wait. She called Tracy. The voice she loved came through. "Oh Chance! Are you there? Did you find anything out? Did you see Larry?" came the expected stream of questions.

"Yes, I am here. I did find out a little, and yes I saw Larry. Listen Baby, this is going to take a while. Mira is coming to decoy and I will be just behind the bus at every stop. I am thinking that Marianne was nabbed in Fallbrook. That is where the passengers would have unloaded for dinner. But it is impossible to know so we have to go the whole route to be sure." Chance could almost feel Tracy bristling on the other end. It was not because of the time it would take but more because Miranda Sandini was going to be working with Chance on this.

Tracy was silent for a moment then spoke, "Why Mira, Chance? Why not me? I am the one who should be the decoy dammit! She is my cousin!" Tracy truly did want to be the decoy for Chance but that was not what felt like a burr in her shoe. She knew that Mira liked Chance and would do anything to get the tall vigilante in bed. She also had a taste for the dark sex that Chance loved. Tracy worried that this alone would make Mira too attractive to Chance.

"You will stay where you are and do just as you are told, Tracy." Chance said evenly. "I chose someone other than you precisely because Marianne is your cousin. You might get too hot at a moment when cool is needed."

"But, Chance… "

"Don’t argue! I don’t give a shit how you feel about Mira. She is the best one for the job." Chance scolded. "If you disobey me, Tracy… you know the consequences." Silence. "Tracy? Are you paying attention?"

"Yes." It was the answer Tracy knew she had to give. Prospects of a session with Chance and that stinging belt demanded it. She felt slammed at not being allowed to help with finding her cousin. Damn this black leather, whip wielding, dildo loving, ass fucking bitch! Still she stayed silent. Tracy felt lifetime’s worth of discipline at the hands of this one dark warrior. She learned. Or thought she learned… for now.

Chance hung up, not entirely satisfied that the love of her many lives would behave. After twenty five centuries the spirit of Gabrielle remained head strong and almost never listened. Chance hadn’t changed much either. Still, the darkness that once ruled her, lay dormant until provoked. Tracy was expert at provoking it. One sure way of provoking it was to put herself in the way of danger. Chance’s heart thudded at the thought. She recalled Angel’s words. "These are dangerous hombres, Amiga. They are not the same as our local rapists and lone serial killers. There are lots of them. They do this for money… plenty of money." Chance was resolved that if Tracy purposely put herself in the path of danger and lived through it, the consequence would be very likely more difficult to face.

The ex-guerrilla fighter and saboteur relegated these thoughts to the back of her mind. She had some planning to do before Mira showed up. Marianne was being held captive somewhere in California. But if these things happened as she was sure they did, time would be of the essence. Her captors would be shipping her to some neutral place as soon as possible; a place where police would turn the other way for a price. ‘Hell" she thought "they do that right here." Chance decided to keep that in mind.


Miranda Sandini knocked gently. She knew that Chance was alert even in her sleep. She stood waiting and staring at the number thirteen painted on the door when Chance drew it open. Mira was always caught with her heart pounding every time she looked at this woman. "Damn" she thought "she is gorgeous even half awake, yawning and muttering."

Chance blinked, squinting at the flashing neon motel sign. "Come in Mira." She looked at her watch. It was three in the morning. She pointed at the other bed in the room. "Sleep for a few hours. Your bus doesn’t leave till eleven." She drew back her bed covers and proceeded to get back to her much needed sleep.

"Whoa!" Mira wasn’t happy. "I leave my Angel home to bed herself and come hammering my way to fucking Shithole, California at speeds even YOU wouldn’t go, just to take on a case that probably don’t pay shit… and you tell me to get some fucking sleep, my bus don’t leave ‘til eleven?"

Chance opened an eye and did a semi-focus, and said thickly, "Uh, yes Mira… exactly. Good listening." She dropped her eyelid and retreated into sleep.

Mira stood still, hands on hips with wide eyes and an angry expression. Then she realized that it was all lost to the sleeping leader of the pack of Wolves, as she so often referred to the group. The saucy Latina pulled off her leather jacket and tossed it into the one chair in the room. She looked at the sleeping Chance and thought the pack leader managed to look dangerous even in her sleep. "Pendaha" she whispered. She hoped that some day she might get an edge on the lucky side with Chance and get the kind of rough sex she craved. But for now, it just wasn’t happening. She pulled off her clothes and slipped into the other bed. Mira was actually tired and tomorrow would come too soon.


The bus leaving for San Diego at 11:00am was right on time. It went like clockwork from there, leaving one depressing little stop and arriving at another just as bleak. Highway 15 snaked through a good number of small and completely forgettable towns. Most stops were too short for meals but long enough for passengers to get off and smoke. Chance hung back, parking her bike beside whatever structure or tree or fence would serve as cover. She stayed at enough distance to keep from being obvious. She figured that unless someone was looking out for her, she would not be noticed. They finally stopped for dinner in Fallbrook where the scenery was way more pleasant and there were more people than at previous stops. The biker found a trail where she could be in the trees just across the street from the restaurant/bar/bus station.

Chance used binoculars to keep Mira in sight and to catch anything out of the ordinary. She watched all the passengers leave the bus and walk to the restaurant. She spotted Mira and focused the binoculars. The low-cut pink sweater and the tight black skirt Mira wore served to keep more than one pair of eyes occupied. Chance pulled herself up several times for allowing her gaze to linger over the sweet roundness of Mira’s ass. The biker was aware of Mira’s curiosity concerning her relationship with Tracy and the often violent passion Chance expressed. She figured that some women are drawn to danger before they really understand what they might be getting into. Her own curiosity was in wondering just how much the spicy Latina could take. But for now she was more concerned with finding Marianne. There was really no feeling of concern for the bad guys. Chance turned her head slightly, pulling the binocular focus from Mira’s cleavage to the very out-of-the-ordinary white limousine parked in the small parking lot in front of the restaurant. She tucked the glasses into her saddle bags and decided it was time for a drink.

The place was packed. Chance thought it must be the only bar and restaurant in Fallbrook. She combed the room with her gaze until it landed on Mira sitting alone at a booth. The pretty woman saw Chance when she first walked in and kept her eyes focused on the biker until the contact between them was clear. Chance took a stool at the bar and ordered scotch, something she could nurse. The waitress took Mira’s order and walked away just as a tall and painfully thin looking man sat down in the booth with Mira. He was dressed straight out of Abercrombie & Fitch. His hair was black, wavy and long enough to touch his shoulders. Chance could see the guy talking with some emotion. The movements of his hands were graceful. His face was animated with excitement. Apparently, Miranda was mesmerized by whatever the well dressed scarecrow had to say. He stood suddenly and assisted Miranda from the booth. Chance watched while the two of them threaded through the room toward the door. She caught Mira’s this-is-it look as they moved to the exit.

One thing about limousines is that they are easy to spot. It didn’t take Chance long to catch up with the stretch on the winding country road. She held back as far as she could without losing sight of the limo. She could tell by the billowing dust that they had turned onto a dirt road. She decided to wait for an hour. Wherever they were going, it was not going to be heavily populated and she figured she would have to park her bike and walk a mile or two. She had been doing this kind of thing long enough to follow feelings about things. The biker thought there would be one lone house out in the middle of this green country landscape and she was as right this time as always before. Oak trees were all around and provided good cover. She brought out her binoculars and watched as Mira was pulled out of the limo, now parked in front of a large wood framed house. Something was odd about the way the Latina wobbled as she walked. Clearly, Mira was drugged. Chance pulled her cell phone from her vest, dialed the Wolves storefront, then felt what seemed to be the back of her head caving in and fell to the ground unconscious.

The pain in her head superceded much thought of anything else when she first woke up. She was alone in a small, plainly furnished room. The flowery wallpaper was so faded; it looked like it was hung there at least fifty years ago. Her throat was so dry she could barely breath. She spotted a pitcher on a small table and prayed to the powers that be that there was water in it. The old bed she lay on creaked loudly as she rose. Damn, dizziness, or the pain in her head made it seem like a long way to that little table. There was water! Drinking straight from the porcelain pitcher she slaked the fierce thirst that threatened to choke her before she noticed the oddly sweet taste of the water. Chance never wasted time juggling choices or thinking of how she might have done something differently. That piece of her character sometimes saved her life and other times it took her to places she might not otherwise have had to go. She had the uneasy feeling that she might have just consumed something that was going to change things. Then the door opened.

It was the thin man in the expensive suit. He was alone except for a Doberman that looked like he just had his teeth sharpened. The man had a smile that effected only his mouth. The rest of his face had a rather deadened look about it. The words he spoke came out slowly so it was easy for Chance to understand even through the haze that seemed to be developing in her brain. Apparently, according to the mouth that moved in the otherwise still face, the drug in the water was a new one that had not yet hit the streets. Chance was one of the lucky ones to get to try it first. She did see that the man had a gun and the dobie was protective. She figured she might have to choose to do nothing right now.

Mira woke up in a room similar to the one Chance was in. She looked out the window to witness something she only read about in underground porn rags. It was a pen. A fence that must have been ten feet high surrounding about 20 women, all young and all scared. "My God" she thought. "It’s a slave camp." She vaguely wondered why she was not in that pen with the other women. She noticed large camera’s set up in each of the ceiling corners of the room. A large two way mirror glared at her from the wall. Mira started to feel some very real fear here. Where was Chance?

"Your girlfriend is here my friend." The smooth voice reached Chance. "She has been waiting for you." The drug was flowing through Chance’s veins and to her brain at a good clip now. Chance’s girlfriend was Tracy. Why was Tracy here? The little bitch was going to get a beating. Chance was too drugged and confused at this point to wonder just how anybody here knew that Tracy was hers. After the initial rage raced through her that Tracy would come into this danger precisely as she had been told not to, Chance bargained. "What do you want me to do?"

The skinny man chuckled. "You have a reputation for brutality my friend. We want to see what you do to a woman. We want to film it. It will sell like crazy. Then we will sell the women we already have along with copies of the film. You and your woman, of course will be released." The tall biker couldn’t find reason enough in her now hallucinating mind to ask how the skinny man knew who she was or where he heard of her reputation.

The dog looked different to Chance somehow. It looked like a lab she owned once when she was very young. "Hey, Chap, whatcha doing?" Skinny man pulled back on the dog’s collar and ordered it out of the room. "Better be careful, Diablo can be vicious" said the smooth voice. Chance was astonished that Chap could be thought of as vicious and wondered why this strange person called him Diablo. But Chance thought of Tracy again. "Where is she?" she growled.

"We have locked her in a room for you. We knew you would want her contained." Chance vaguely wondered who "we" were but was anxious to get to Tracy so she let it go. "Okay, so let’s get on with it."

"I am pleased at your cooperation." The man bowed slightly and waved an arm toward a hallway in a gesture of leading the way. Chance walked down the hallway of the old farmhouse feeling a kind of familiarity about the place. But thoughts of Tracy kept kicking up a dust of fury she was not going to shake easily. That was what was on her mind when the skinny man opened the door to the room where Mira was kept.


Stepping into the room, Chance had to duck slightly. They didn’t build these houses for tall women. Her steely blue eyes landed on Mira but she was looking at Tracy. The smaller woman looked positively innocent as if she wasn’t the epitome of defiance itself. Oh, and the running up to make sure Chance was alright was just priceless. Chance thought Tracy must really be aching for trouble. The door barely shut behind Chance when she let go of a back slap that drove Miranda tumbling backward on the floor and ending up at the far wall. "Don’t try those games with me Tracy, I will only get more angry." Chance unbuckled her belt. "take off your clothes. You knew you would be getting this when you came here after I told you not to."

Stunned, Miranda staggered to her feet. Why the hell was Chance calling her Tracy? They did something to her. "Wait a minute, Chance… you’ve been drugged or something, Chiquita. I am not Tracy!" Mira wiped blood from her mouth where the skin was broken and swelling.

Chance made it to the smaller woman in three strides. Tracy never tried such tactics before. She was furious. "Did you forget what happens when you disobey?" The mercenary gripped Mira’s shirt and ripped it open. "Want me to finish?"

Mira swallowed. It was here. The dream she wanted with Chance was here and she wasn’t sure she could handle it. "N…no. I’ll undress, Chance. Please don’t tear my clothes." Whatever they gave Chance had the Wolf leader convinced that she was Tracy. It was amazing. Miranda Sandini was as Latina as Evita. Her hair was black, her skin was brown and her eyes were dark. And from the looks of things she was going to be bruised as any gringo girl could be. Chance raised her hand. Mira cowered and slipped off her blouse and the rest of her clothes.

Chance was jealous at times anyway but the drug was working in a way that made her believe the worst. "Don’t you think I know what you like my little bitch?" Chance hit the girl again. She needed to teach her to obey. "I told you to stay home but you thought you would come here and do what, Tracy? Get killed?" The thought brought up the living hurricane in Chance. She tore her belt from the loops.

Miranda was truly frightened. She began to cry. "Please, Chance, they want you to do this to me. This is a slave market. Please just look at the women they have for selling. The one we came to save is there, amiga." Miranda pointed at the window. "Doesn’t it mean anything to you that there are camera’s in this room… or that two way mirror? People are watching Chance!"

Tracy was the most beautiful woman chance knew in any century. Her possessiveness brought out the cruelty she was capable of. No one would have her woman and if her woman purposely put herself in a position to be taken from her, she would vent until it was understood. That was clear in any event, drug or not. But being drugged was keeping reason from her brain. Her focus was on the task at hand and not on her surroundings. She grabbed one of Miranda’s wrists and held on hard. Slamming the belt down on Mira’s naked back and ass was easy as long as she held on to her wrist. Gods, how she loved to hear Tracy scream for mercy. It was so good to know that she possessed her.

Miranda could not reason through her screams. She thought pleading might work but it only drove Chance to further fury with that belt. She finally stopped resisting and dropped to the floor. Her body was burning now. She tried to twist away but only got more lashes on her breasts and legs. She heard Chance still saying things that made no sense, but it was close to not mattering at this point. She thought she might pass out when the belt stopped coming. Miranda was coiled on the filthy wood floor, whimpering pleas for mercy.

Chance glared down at the sweet body she loved so much. She knew Tracy hated to be held down over the edge of the bed and ass fucked. She always cried and begged. Chance reached down and wrapped an arm around the naked girl. "come on little one. I want to fuck you now and you know how I want it don’t you?" The mercenary threw Miranda face down on the bed. She pulled at the girl’s ankles until her legs were hanging over the edge of the bed. She fell over the welted naked body and whispered in Mira’s ear. "You had better lay still when I fuck you with one finger or you will be getting two fingers in your pretty rosebud and hard. Understand?"

Miranda’s skin burned all over. She felt lost. She had no power over Chance and she knew it. But the thought of how Chance wanted to hurt her was overwhelming. "I will try to be still." Her voice shook when she spoke. Tears fell over her face. "May I hold on to something Chance… please?"

Chance pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed and growled, "Here. Hold onto this. She waited while the beauty hugged the pillow. Then, she rubbed the beautiful round ass roughly to see if her Tracy would obey and stay still. So far she did well. It was when she wet a finger and pushed it up into the girl’s soft anus that the struggle began. Chance wrapped an arm around Mira’s waist and held her still. "Now it will be worse. Your disobedience is intolerable, Tracy and now you will be hurt." Chance was not sorry. She relished what she was doing. She made Miranda wet two of her fingers with her saliva, held tight to the small waist and pressed both fingers into the tiny opening. The cries and pleas served to heighten Chances pleasure as she fucked the naked girl in the ass.

Miranda was incredulous at her own helplessness. It was as if Chance had a control like no other ever had. She hugged the pillow close and screamed into it as the painful fucking continued. She heard Chance yelling at her now. "You are making me hot now little bitch of mine. You will have to fix that" she said as she fucked harder. "How will you fix it sweetheart… hmmm?"

Mira lifted her head and cried out, "Any way you want, I will do whatever you want!"

"You will get on your knees when I finish with your ass and then you will suck me until I come in your mouth. If you don’t make me come really good, little girl, I will whip you again and tie you to the bed for more, is that clear?"

"Yes!" Mira screamed as those cruel fingers jammed into her again.

"One day you will learn to obey me, Tracy." Chance drew her fingers out and pulled Miranda to the floor. "Stay on those knees and keep them wide apart!" She slapped Miranda’s face hard enough to knock her over to see if she would get back into position. She was pleased to see that she did. The biker walked around the sobbing girl and stopped to stand in front of her. "You know what to do" she hissed.

Miranda was sure she didn’t know quite like Tracy knew, but she made the right guess and began to unfasten Chance’s pants. She pulled them down as far as the top of the biker boots when she felt her hair grabbed and her head pulled forward until her face was pressed against Chance’s hot, wet cunt. She licked and sucked as Chance held her head in position. Then she heard Chance tell her to do something she needed to do practically since the beginning of this incredible session.

"Finger yourself, honey. Don’t you come before I do, but get that cunt dripping for me. You can come when I do."

Miranda was headed for ecstasy. Her burning skin and welts made her even hotter. Chance’s commanding personage thrilled her like none she had ever known. She held back on herself until she heard Chance howling in sexual rapture before she let her own dream come true.


Chance looked down at Miranda and pushed the girl back from her. "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled. Looking around her she recognized very little except for the haze in her head. "Fuck!" she thought. "I’ve been drugged." The tall beauty quickly pulled up her leather pants. One glance around the room and over at the naked, beaten girl, gave Chance the story. She had to play it out. Sneering at Miranda she growled. "Get the fuck over here and get on the bed. You remember what I taught you that night at Angel’s? That’s what I want." Suddenly Miranda understood that Chance was back to herself. The only thing Chance ever taught her at Angel’s was how to drop kick a motherfucker and run. She would wait for her cue and act.

Slowly, Miranda got to her feet and began to walk toward the bed. She saw Chance grab the one straight-back chair in the room and pick it up like it was made of foam. The mercenary swung wide and let loose. The chair battered through and shattered the glass of the two way mirror. The two men behind the mirror stood in shock long enough for Chance and Miranda to reach them. Miranda leaped and drop kicked the first man before he could reach for his gun. He hit the floor with blood spurting from his nose and fell unconscious. The other man was not so lucky. Chance kept a knife in her boot that now stuck out from the jugular of the man who never lost the look of shock from his face.

Miranda moved for her clothes while Chance gathered weapons from the dead men. Chance removed all the cameras she found in the room and exposed all the film as Miranda dressed. The mercenary handed Miranda a hand-gun and an Uzi-looking firearm. "Can you use this?"

"Si hermana." Miranda lifted the evil looking thing and slung it over her shoulder like it was a back pack. She checked the ammo slots on the belt and jammed a clip in the hand-gun. She looked at Chance and said, "What about you amiga?" Chance leaned down and slid the bloody blade of her hunting knife from the neck of the dead man. "This is all I need" she said, wiping the blade on the man’s shirt. "Let’s set ‘em free."

Together, they walked through the halls of the old farmhouse. "Seems kind of quiet amiga" Mira whispered. "I don’t like it." Just then a Doberman leaped through the air headed straight for Chance but was dropped dead from a blast of Miranda’s gun. Chance still had her arms and legs but now the entire place was alerted. "Okay… cut loose on anything that moves and isn’t caged!" Chance breathed.

Mira didn’t have to be told twice. She went for the nearest window while Chance stood behind the door. Men were coming from everywhere and running for cover as soon as Mira opened up with the Uzi. Chance slit at least three throats before some sort of gas cylinder was thrown in. The tall woman leaped for it and threw it back out but another and then another flew in, breaking open and spewing green gas. Miranda covered her face with her bandana and held that Uzi to automatic. Chance continued to throw out cylinders as quickly as they came in but it felt like a losing battle. Just then a roar that sounded like a symphony to the two women rushed in. The farmyard was filled with swarming motorcycles whose warrior riders were sporting rifles, hand-guns, grenades, knives and every other portable weapon possible.

Apparently when Chance punched in the number to Angel and was then hit in the head, the cell phone fell to the ground and the very resourceful Angel traced it. The entire Wolf pack was alerted and on the road in an hours time.

Since the cylinders stopped coming Chance wanted out into the battle. Miranda took off toward the caged women. She yelled at them to stand back and then blasted the lock apart with her hand-gun. Miranda swung the door wide and commanded the stunned women to run. They ran. They bolted from that cage as if death itself lingered there. Miranda Sandini watched the last woman run out and smiled in pride for the accomplishment just as a bullet pierced her soft, beautiful heart. The tall skinny man shot her then turned in time to feel a large hunting knife enter and split his scull.


Chance was shocked to see Miranda fall. At no time in her history had she learned how to be fast enough to stop a bullet. Killing the leader of this filthy operation was going to be a pleasure for Chance anyway but now it was for Miranda. She ran to see if there was even a moments life left in the beautiful Latina. Shooting and blasting and yelling was happening all around them as the Wolf Pack waylaid the slave operation.

Lifting up Miranda’s pretty head, Chance saw the vacancy in the dark eyes. Angel was there. Her bike slid to a dirt spraying stop a few feet away. She loved Miranda. Seeing her lover dead split Angel’s heart in half as she let out a wail to the god she knew.

Chance could barely see through the tears rolling down her face. She lifted Miranda from the dirt and transferred the sweet body to be cradled in Angel’s arms. The two women gazed at one another in shared grief. Chance would go to the grave in this life, holding the secret of what happened in the farmhouse between herself and Miranda

The women who ran for the trees walked back one by one, each glaring in sorrow and horror at the dead woman who died to save them. One of them had a vague familiarity to Chance. The tall warrior spoke through the centuries, "Lilla?… I mean Marianne?"

The younger woman cocked her head slightly in question that changed to understanding and said, "Yes, you must be Chance."

Chance couldn’t smile for the ache in her heart, but was able to hold the frightened but grateful woman in her arms allowing the sobbing for a few moments. She spoke into Marianne’s hair as she held her. "Tracy is very anxious. I will call her in a little while. Do you think you can gather the other women and stay together while we finish up here?"

Marianne nodded and asked. "Aren’t you going to call the police?"

"Don’t have to." Came a voice from one Sigourney Weaver-looking biker who shoved a balding man in a bright flowered shirt in front of them. "He’s a cop. We found him trying to abscond with this." She held out a large suitcase.

Inside the suitcase was a bundle of cash and a couple if tapes. Chance guessed that the tapes were evidence of this bastard’s involvement with the sex slave ring. "I guess you better retire. I think the road to nowhere is that way." Chance pointed to the dirt road and shoved the man forward. The cowardly cop took off running.

Angel laid her beloved Miranda down on a soft patch of grass and picked up her bike. She nodded at Chance in gratitude and rumbled off in the direction of the dirty cop. No one questioned.

Money was dispersed among the women and Chance paid the Wolves a good share. They buried Miranda under a large oak tree but left the slave crew and their skinny leader to rot in the hot California sun.

The bus station in Fallbrook was alive with motorcycles rolling up, each with a woman ready to buy a ticket to somewhere perched on the back. Tracy was there waiting. She drove up in her grey Acura as soon as she got Chance’s call. She held tight to her warrior for a long time before she could let go to greet her cousin.

Chance and the pack rumbled down the highway back to San Diego where she would be with her beloved Tracy for many nights before going anywhere. She figured that Marianne was resourceful enough to find her way well in San Diego doing just about anything she wanted since she came away from her ordeal with $20,000.00 dollars above the $6,000.00 she already had.

Angel caught up with the group a bit later. She never said what happened to the flower shirted cop. But all rested assured that there was one less creep in the world to worry about.

Dana L’Wood

Return to the Academy