The storm raged on, its fury manifesting in a torrent of rain that pelted against the earth with an unrelenting force. The wind howled through the night like a chorus of vengeful spirits, its eerie lamentation echoing through the desolate landscape.
In the midst of a wild and stormy uproar, two men, their faces obscured by the driving rain, carefully carried a woman. She was completely bound, with her head hidden beneath a dark cloth, and her hands and feet tightly shackled. Every step they took seemed to send shivers down her spine, as they navigated through the darkness towards an ominous pit. Only the faint glow of distant headlights shed any light on the scene. Each muttered word from the men hinted at their concern for the fierce weather, but without hesitation, they callously hurled the woman into the depths of the hole.
The woman, her name Gayle Tanner, landed with a thud on the damp ground, the impact jolting through her body like an electric shock. The cloth that had obscured her vision fluttered away, revealing her wide hazel eyes, glistening with fear and confusion. As she lay there, the rain poured down upon her exposed flesh, drenching her strawberry blonde hair that was pulled tightly into a bun.
The cold droplets trickled down her face, mingling with the beads of sweat that formed from her fear and exertion. Gayle's heart pounded in her chest like a trapped bird desperately seeking escape, its frantic beats reverberating through her entire being. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she fought to calm the rising panic within.
As Gayle's trembling fingers clasped onto the sharp edge of her shackles, she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. The rough metal bit into her skin, leaving tiny crimson trails in its wake, but she hardly noticed the pain. With each careful stroke, she diligently carved away at the softer links that bound her with the hard, sharpened manacles, her determination fueling her perseverance.
Her hands trembled with a mix of fear and anticipation as she worked tirelessly to free herself from the chains that shackled her. The metallic clinks reverberated through the damp air, merging with the distant rumble of thunder and creating an eerie symphony of imprisonment and liberation.
Gayle's hands, slick with rain and sweat, trembled as she continued her relentless struggle against the unyielding chains that held her captive. Each link she severed brought a spark of hope to her weary heart, igniting a flicker of determination deep within her soul. Until finally, after what felt like an eternity of painstaking effort, Gayle's hands were free from their metallic prison. A wave of relief washed over her, carrying away the remnants of fear and uncertainty that had clouded her mind. She gingerly rubbed her wrists, feeling the rawness of her skin and the lingering ache of captivity.
As she did so she reflected upon the details of her capture. Recalling the events in her mind, Gayle vividly remembered the moment she was forcefully seized, just as she was about to retire to bed. In that vulnerable state, clad in nothing but a long nightshirt and her undergarments, she was abruptly snatched away from her peaceful slumber. It was two, perhaps even three men who relentlessly covered her face, shackled her and ushered her inside a vehicle that awaited their arrival.
Now reminded of her current attire, Gayle reflexively pulled down her nightshirt, taking it over her toned, but gentle curves. Although there was no one with her who could see it, she preferred the modesty of concealing her athletic bosom, an aspect of herself that she had never sought to emphasize.
As she continued to catch her breath, Gayle's eyes scanned the dimly lit abyss that surrounded her. The dim light that filtered through the narrow opening above cast eerie shadows upon the damp walls of the hole. The dirt, moist with rainwater, clung to Gayle's clothes, weighing them down and suffusing her with a chill that seeped into her very bones. She could almost taste the earthy scent of the soil as it mingled with the lingering aroma of petrichor, a fragrance born from the marriage of rain and nature.
As Gayle Tanner stood in the depths of the desolate hole, her senses heightened by the oppressive darkness that enveloped her, she couldn't help but feel a surge of determination coursing through her veins. Amidst the gloom and despair, a flicker of defiance burned bright within her.
In a flash back, we see the story of a woman tossed into a hole unfold. Who is she? Why is she held captive? Will she escape? In present day, we see the supernatural villainess GALE, with her partner in crime KING at her side, interrogate a former soviet spymaster, Serghei Bystrolyotov, in a similar predicament to the woman in the flashback. Both stories are told in tandem.