Christy Falconetto was minding her own business when she got kidnapped. She'd never done anything to deserve it. She was a normal girl who worked hard to maintain her above-average grades and enjoyed wholesome activities like going to the mall with her friends. That is what she might have done that afternoon had she not been interrupted by a pair of terrorists.

The doorbell rang as she was studying a chemistry textbook. Her father was gone busting down doors or terrifying criminals, and her mother was at her much more sedate job analyzing risks for an insurance company. Vito always told her that if someone came to the door, she was supposed to sneak behind the curtains and peek out at them before she answered. Sometimes she did, but it was all so paranoid. She was sixteen years old- old enough not to get stolen away by some pervert. She walked to the door normally without spying on the visitor.

Ooh, check out the cute salesman. I'm buying, she said as she saw who it was. It was actually two people, one of which was Christy's age. But Christy, with her mature (or perhaps more immature than she thought) taste, was looking at the elder of the pair. He was so tall she almost had to lean back to see his face, which was as handsome as the rest of him. Some girls didn't like lines on a man's face, but to Christy they provided character. His hair was so perfectly disarrayed that she wanted to stand on her tiptoes and muss it up more, and the fingers curled around the paper he was holding were long and slender, just the way she liked them. The younger guy with him was okay too.

"Hello? Who is it?" Christy asked as she opened the door. She hoped the tall man would answer, but instead the other guy did. He didn't have nearly as hot a voice as the tall man surely did. He sounded more like a comedian than a heartthrob.

"Do you have a minute to discuss a petition?" The skinny guy asked. That was the only thing Christy didn't want to hear. If there was anything Vito was more strict about than home security, it was privacy. He refused to tell any strangers or authority figures anything about the family's political leanings. Everyone knew he was a gun-toting survivalist, but he insisted on keeping quiet. Not that he could possibly do any more damage to their chances if the government ever did decide to do what he was guarding against. He was a highly conservative, former military individualist. He was already on the top of every list imaginable. All the same, he'd rubbed off on Christy, and she was wary of discussing politics with anyone she didn't know.

"Thank you, but I'm not interested-" Christy began. The tall man interrupted her mid-sentence. He walked through the doorway while she was still in it, pushing her back into the house like a piece of flotsam. His broad shoulder nearly whacked her upside the head as he marched inside the house.

"Hey! What are you doing? You can't come in!" Christy protested as the man did not listen. She tried to dodge past him and run outside, but the skinny guy ducked inside and shut the door behind him. He looked outside the window to see if anyone was coming, but the exterior of the house was deserted. Most people were at work or school, and Christy had the horrible feeling that this had been planned far in advance. It was most likely organized by some criminal her father had arrested (or possibly beaten half to death, or possibly both), bent on revenge by whisking away and ravaging his only daughter. She was grateful her would-be ravager was hotter than heck, but she still struggled with all her might to remain chaste and unravaged.

She ran for the phone across the room, but the skinny guy jumped after her in a flying tackle and pancaked her to the ground. It wasn't fair that guys were so much bigger than girls and didn't even realize it. Christy's scream was squeezed out of her by the skinny guy's weight and she could hardly move underneath him. If he hadn't gotten up himself, she might have been stuck permanently. She wailed and hollered as loud as she could muster, hoping that if there was no one nearby she could reach those further away. The skinny guy tried to grab her arm and she smacked his hand away. He almost looked sorry, and she wondered what he was doing in this mess. The tall guy, meanwhile, was fiddling with a wire on his chest. Christy picked up a decorative vase from the room's coffee table and threw it at the skinny guy. He dodged it and it shattered against the wall. She backed farther into the room, throwing anything else she could find. She hit him with a heavy book and he stumbled back a step. Her next missile, a ceramic teapot, went wild and struck the tall man in the back. He turned, and Christy was afraid she'd pissed him off even more, but he didn't even look mad. He crossed the room, reaching her in two long steps. He seized the front of her shirt and picked her up effortlessly. He tossed her across the room and she yelped as she crashed into the far wall. She slid down to the floor half-stunned and barely felt it when a picture frame, loosed by the impact, fell and shattered on her head. The skinny guy gasped and covered his mouth with his hands.

Ow... Christy thought dazedly as the tall man came for her again. He wrapped an arm around her waist and picked her up like a suitcase. He feet barely reached the floor as he started to carry her out the door. She grabbed him around the leg and bit him, but his pants were so thick she couldn't do any damage. He shook her loose like a dog and continued on his path.

He was right all along. Perfect, Christy thought. Her paranoid, doomsday father was right. He'd still come and bail her out of this, but she was so going to be grounded.