"She's right... the auction is at midnight tonight," says a female voice with an English accent. "And I'm sorry to tell you all that there's very little likelihood of anybody knowing what's happened to any of us, or coming to rescue us."
A young woman emerges from the shadows near the fence and walks towards the new prisoners. She's twenty or twenty-one years old, with a slim, atheletic build, large bust and wide hips. Her hair is blond, but dirty and dishelved. So is her clothing, a matching red jacket and pleated skirt, with a pair of gold wings just above her left breast.
"My name Gwen Jenkins. They took me from the local airport, and tried to rape me, before some officer stopped them." She pulls back on her skirt, and reveals a tear running from the lower hem, at mid thigh, up to a few inches below the waist. Her pantyhose beneath has a large hole; a run ladders down her leg to the knee.
"If we're going to get out of this, we're going to have to do it on our own, but I'm not optimistic."
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