Cornered Officer (Caitlyn - LoL) | By : Red Category: +G through L > League of Legends Views: 2588 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: This is purely fantasy, rape/non-consent is NEVER acceptable in reality. I have no affiliation with Riot Games, own none of their content/characters, and am making no money off this :( |
Caitlyn let out a lengthy sigh as she prepared herself for her second graveyard shift at Stillwater Hold this month. Her shift wasn't due for at least another week, but Piltover's most notorious prison always seemed to be short on manpower. Worse yet, the officer assigned to accompany her shift had deserted by the end of his first week. Many simply couldn't stomach the thought of a whole night spent in a crumbling underground dungeon surrounded by murderers, or psychopaths, or worse. Caitlyn almost didn't blame him. With its endless rows of cells barely lit by the red flicker of the occasional hextech torch, the bottommost floors of Stillwater Hold were a setting straight out of a horror movie. Still, Caitlyn couldn't suppress a small amount of disdain for the men who cowered from the task. If a slender, average-sized, attractive female such as herself could dutifully fulfill the role, the larger, stouter men had no reason to flee. A moment later, the bullet proof doors of her elevator creaked opened. She had arrived at The Morgue, an apt nickname for a floor so sinister. The lone woman stepped out, adjusting her iconic top hat and pulling up the leather garter adorning her bare right thigh. Behind her, the doors slowly slid to a shut, not to open until sunrise. A feeling of unease weighed on her exposed shoulders. Perhaps she should've picked something more conservative than her signature strapless dress. While it certainly wasn't her first time running the most dreaded shift in Stillwater, she had never had to do it alone. Caitlyn switched on her radio. "Coms, this is Cait, starting rounds on The Morgue." After a moment, no response. Communications were almost never successful from so far underground, and this was no exception. Deep underground in the dead of night, Caitlyn was truly alone.
Caitlyn checked her watch. It had only been about an hour. Perhaps it was the absence of a fellow officer, or the unusually quiet prisoners tonight, but time seemed to slow to a crawl. Sufficiently uneasy, Caitlyn pulled the cups of her dark blue dress up a little further, as far as her curvaceous physique would allow. It was times like this she wished she hadn't been so well-endowed, as the considerable amount of unconcealable cleavage only contributed to her growing sense of vulnerability. She continued slowly down the hall, making a right at one fork and a left at another. If an officer wasn't careful, it was quite easy to get lost among all the identical looking turns. The rhythmic clacking of her heeled boots on cobbles echoed down the halls, but beyond that, there wasn't another sound to be heard. Caitlyn reached for the pair of handcuffs on her waist, next to her baton and pistol. She dragged it along the wall, producing a continous, gritty, scraping sound. Unpleasant as it was, any sound was better than the oppressive silence. As she reached a fork, she came to a stop. It was quiet. Too quiet. She usually avoided interactions with prisoners to the absolute, but she had to know. She approached a cell and peered inside. For a moment, Caitlyn thought the darkness was playing tricks on her. But a moment later, realization hit her. There was no one in the cell.
Caitlyn's heart leapt into her throat. Every cell in The Morgue was always filled, even if with a corpse. The usually-composed officer screamed very uncharacteristically as she heard something metallic hit the ground behind her. She whipped around with her hands protectively over her head... but there was no one - only the handcuffs she had dropped in her fright. Caitlyn bent over to pick them up, blood pounding in her ears. With trembling fingers, it took her a few tries to grasp the device of restraint. As she stood back up, she briskly walked down the hall to check on the next cell, then the next, and then the next as she broke into a sprint. "Code RED, Code RED!!!!" Caitlyn yelled into her damned useless radio. She ran down the hallway, past row after row of cells she now realized were empty. Somehow, the halls felt even dimmer and more sinister than before. Her ears perked up at the sound of her radio crackling something unintelligible.
"E-... ate". "Eva-... ate".
Evacuate!! She needed to evacuate!! They were going to unlock the elevator, but not for long. Caitlyn jumped to her feet. She took two steps forward, and then froze. In her panicked run, she realized she did not know where she was. After a few minutes of blundering around corridor after corridor, Caitlyn collapsed against some cell bars. Fear and adrenaline coursed through her like she had never experienced. Her busty chest heaved with each ragged breath, the valley between her mounds damp with sweat. Her face was pale with fear and tears tinged her eyelashes. To any predators lurking in the encompassing shadows, the sight of such a beautiful, frightened, and lonely woman must have been impossibly enticing. A footstep sounded from around a corner. Caitlyn held her breath, the effort required to do so immense. Another footstep sounded. In the silence of The Morgue, the sound echoed endlessly down the corridors making it impossible to tell which direction they were coming from. The edges of Caitlyn's vision was closing in and she felt like her chest was going to implode. With her heart rate so fast, she couldn't hold her breath for much longer. Just as she felt she would pass out, a hand gripped her bare shoulder.
"AIYEEEEEE!!!"
The cool, confident officer had never made such a sound in her life. In the blink of an eye, she was on her feet; her pistol in her right hand and her baton in her left. The ONE fucking cell with a prisoner just had to be the one behind her.
"What's going on?? Where are all the prisoners?!?!" Caitlyn yelled, her normal composure rapidly decaying.
The prisoner smiled a toothy smile.
"Speak you shit!! WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY??!!" Caitlyn fired a round above his head, the powerful shot piercing clean through a steel cell bar and shattering the brick behind the criminal.
"Well. Three are behind you."
She whirled around. Too late. A man a head taller than Caitlyn lifted her off the floor by her dainty leather choker before slamming her into the bars behind her. The blow knocked the wind from her, her baton and pistol falling from her grasp. She quickly bent down to pick them up but a kick sent the latter sliding all the way down the corridor. Another kick sent the surrounded officer to her knees In an instant, the men were upon her wrestling her to the floor. Caitlyn might have been unstoppable with a rifle, but in hand-to-hand combat, she wasn't far above average. Moments later, she was pinned down as they cuffed her hands behind her with her own restraints. A greasy bag was pulled over her head cutting off her vision, and she felt hands patting down her narrow waist. There was a jingle of keys and the sound of her radio getting crushed as everything was removed from her belt. With no more instruments on her person, Caitlyn felt herself being hoisted over a shoulder as the party of inmates and a lone officer began making their way into the depths of The Morgue.
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