The container stank.

It was half-filled with garbage, so it was not surprising. It squelched and crunched underfoot, making for an unstable surface to stand upon. And with the lid closed and locked shut, the heat was as oppressive as the smell. All in all, it was not the most ideal environment in which to attempt an escape.

The woman known to some as Saffron, and to others by so many different names she could fill an address book, screamed her frustration out loud again, and scraped a lump of greasy gunk from her face. She looked as if she had been wading through a ton of garbage for an hour, which, not so coincidentally, was the case. Her reddish hair was matted with who knew what, and some if it had begun to soak into the legs of her trousers as well. She bit back another sob, refusing to give in to such weakness again.

Damn that bitch! Saffron cursed to herself, and desperately looked around yet again for something, anything, that would get her out of her current predicament, and soon. Damn Reynolds! “Húndàn!” she yelled out loud. Swearing at the causes of her current uncomfortable situation was better than just fuming in silence.

That she had been outmanoeuvred, again, by that idiot captain was bad enough, but by the Companion too? And outsmarted by the whole crew? The whore must have been lying about that... she could not have been tricked by all of them, surely? Even the big oaf with the wandering hands?

Must’ve been a lie, she told herself, trying to make herself believe it. I haven’t lost it that badly! No, the bitch had been messing with her head, and she had almost believed it. Not that she was in a better position as a result, but she felt better about it.

Just, y’know, not much.

And now all she had to do was get out of the trash container before the Feds arrived. Before another angry husband got hold of her and sent her to a place that might make the container look heavenly. Thoughts of being locked up in some vile prison loomed large