Perfectly camouflaged restraints.

In this coastal city, where multinational capital and underground forces are intertwined, information is the sharpest weapon, and Anna Thorne is the top hunter at the helm of this weapon. Here in the skyscrapers are hidden hundreds of millions of dollars of business games, dark alleys and coiled in the gray trade of the gangs, the two seem to be clear-cut, but in fact, has already been a secret, many multinational corporations need to use the power of the private detective, in order to tear open the rivals and gangs collusion of the dark side - Anna is the name they trust the most. The appearance of the detective always makes the first time people shake: silver-white hair as if dyed by the morning frost, the front side of a few wisps of slightly curled bangs hanging lazily above the eyebrow bone, both can not cover the pair of bright amazing almond eyes, but also for the cold contours of the addition of silk softness. She had a standard imperial figure, her shoulder line was as straight as a carefully calibrated ruler, and the rest of her silver hair was coiled up high and fixed with an understated platinum barrette, revealing a swan neck with beautiful lines. The tailored charcoal gray suit outlines the waist and hip curves just right, the inner beige silk shirt has a slightly spacious neckline, which vaguely reveals the delicate curvature of the collarbone, and the black silk underneath lined her legs more and more slender, stepping on the seven centimeters of fine high heels, each step is permeated with an undeniable aura. No one would belittle her ability because of her outstanding appearance. Three years ago, she was only based on a broken shipping list, and uncovered a multinational pharmaceutical company and gangsters to smuggle prohibited drugs in the chain, and sent all the people involved into the net of justice; last year, she disguised as a financial analyst to infiltrate the core of the money laundering group, and in the desperate situation of being cracked down, but still with the precision of the psychological game and anti-surveillance skills, and brought back enough to let the group destruction of the evidence. "Anna out, never lose" - this is the industry's evaluation of her, but also her confidence in the bottom.

The effects of the anesthetic had mostly receded, and Anna was finally able to move her limbs slightly, but the freedom came at an ironic time - just as she tried to raise her hand to push the man away, she was violently pressed by his shoulder. The man took two arm-thick metal chains from the equipment cabinet, plated with gold plating that echoed that of the heels, and the links were carved with a fine curly grass pattern that at first glance looked like ornate court decorations. He fastened one end of the chain to a metal clasp on the outside of Anna's arm, locking it in place with a click, and the other end wrapped around behind her, securing it with a palm-sized cross-locking cross. The weight of the chain caused her shoulders to sink slightly, and her upper arms were so firmly bound to her sides that she couldn't even raise them to shoulder level, but could only move her lower arms at no more than thirty degrees. What is more defensible is that between the golden metal buckle on the waistband of the dress and the chain of the arm, there are also three titanium alloy wires as thin as a hair, completely imperceptible from the outside, but like an invisible shackle, completely restricting her limb activities. The man took out another golden waistband, inlaid with rhinestones spelled out in a pattern, and girded it around her waist - the inside of the waistband concealed a miniature locking clasp, strangling her waist and abdomen so tightly that even taking a deep breath became difficult. The man took two steps back, pulled a silver handheld mirror from his pocket, and held it up to Anna. The silhouette in the mirror made her breath stutter - the silver-white hair was loosened a little by the man, and a few strands of slightly curled hair hung on both sides of her cheeks, contrasting with the snow-white gown; the one-shoulder gown revealed beautiful shoulder and neck lines, and crushed diamonds sparkled under the light, paired with long white silk gloves, black silk stockings, and gold strappy heels, elegant as a noblewoman attending a royal dinner; the face of the woman was covered in a silver hand-held mirror, and she looked as if she was in the middle of the night, but she was still in the middle of the night. A noblewoman attending a royal dinner; the mask on her face fit naturally, the flesh-colored paint covered the seams perfectly, it looked as if she was just quietly shutting her mouth, even the collar was skillfully covered by the neckline of the gown, only revealing a bit of the golden edge, like a delicate chain of collarbones. But only Anna herself knows the purgatory under this gorgeous appearance - her arms are locked at her side by golden chains, and every time she moves, she can hear the slight "clatter" of the chain links; her fingers are fixed by bandages and latex, and even bending them carries a tearing tension; her mouth is sealed by a sponge and tape, and her mouth is full of sponge and tape; her mouth is sealed by a sponge and tape, and her mouth is full of sponge and tape. Her mouth was sealed with sponge and tape, and her mouth was filled with the fishy smell of chemicals mixed with blood; the collar on her neck was stuck to her skin, and the cold light of the green light was faintly visible through the material of her clothes, like a bomb that would explode at any time. She was able to stand and move her limbs in small increments, but it was even more painful than when she was paralyzed - the despair of "being able to move but not being able to fight back" was like a blunt knife cutting into her flesh, slowing her will. She tried to move her fingers, but she could only feel the bandages; she tried to call for help, but there was only a muffled "whimper" in her throat; she tried to take a step, but the height of her high heels and the weight of the chains made her only stumble a little. Anger and powerlessness gnawed at her heart like a viper, tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced them back - she was Anna Thorne, a detective who had never failed, and she could never show weakness at a time like this. The man's movement of organizing the instruments suddenly stopped, as if he remembered something, and turned around to take out a pair of exquisitely shaped gold glasses from the drawer. The lenses were not ordinary glass, but a light blue technological luster, and the temples were inlaid with a gold pattern that echoed the high heels, a seemingly elegant accessory that made Anna's heartbeat accelerate suddenly. "I almost forgot about this 'navigation tool'." The man walked up to her, and without a word, set the glasses on the bridge of her nose, and just as the metal contacts on the inside of the temples were pressed against her skin, a slight electric current sensation was transmitted, and the glasses were instantly and automatically fixed, unable to be removed at will.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, so fast that it felt like it was trying to break through her ribcage, and each beat shook her eardrums. She stared at the blue footprints on the lens, but she didn't dare to let up, vigilantly scanning over every pedestrian around her - students in school uniforms, old men with baskets of vegetables, tourists with cameras - everyone's gaze could be a spell that could kill her. The heels of her high-heeled shoes struck the ground, emitting a "duk-duk" sound, especially in the noisy crowd, she subconsciously wanted to slow down her pace, but her leg muscles were forced to drive, but only to maintain a fixed pace forward, the hem of her skirt with the movement of the gently swaying, but let her in the crowd even more conspicuous. A middle-aged woman clutching a shopping bag brushed past, her elbow narrowly missing her shoulder, and Anna's body stiffened instantly, instinctively trying to move to the side to avoid it, but her arm was chained to her side, so she could only watch as the other woman's elbow brushed against her gown. "Sorry, girl." The woman smiled and apologized, her gaze lingering on her for two seconds, and Anna's heart stopped beating for an instant, the green light on her collar seeming to become blinding at that moment - she had a death grip on her eyes and darted away from them, not daring to breathe heavily until the woman's figure had disappeared into the crowd, the cold sweat on her back having soaked through her latex leotard that clung sticky to her skin. She was more afraid of falling. The sidewalk here was paved with uneven slabs, and if she was knocked off balance by a pedestrian, there was no way she could get up on her own in her bound position. With her arms locked at her waist, she didn't even have the strength to support the ground, and when the time came, she would inevitably attract onlookers, and those people would only have to come close enough to notice her immobile arms, her tense expression, and even be able to feel the stolen goods in her pockets. She could only focus her whole body on her feet, her toes curling hard in her heels, gripping the soles with a death grip, each step taken carefully, like dancing on the tip of a knife. Blue footprints in the crowd suddenly made a sharp turn, Anna's body was forced to change direction, completely unable to avoid - "bang", she crashed solidly into the front of a middle-aged man carrying a briefcase. The documents in the man's hand were scattered all over the ground, he looked up sharply, his eyebrows wrinkled into lumps, angrily scolded: "Walking without long eyes ah? Dressed like this rushing to reincarnation?" Anna's heart instantly hangs in her throat, the green light on her collar seems to be blinking, all she can do is to stand stiffly in place, her throat squeezed out a vague "whimpering" sound, and she can't even bend down to pick up the documents - her arms are chained to her waist, and her fingertips can't even touch the ground. Even the fingertips couldn't touch the ground. Luckily, the man was in a hurry, cursing, picking up the documents and glaring at her, turning around and walking away quickly, until his figure disappeared into the crowd, Anna felt the cold sweat at the back of her back dripping down her spine, and even her breath came with a shudder.

Anna stood still, as if her strength had been drained from her body, cold sweat soaking through the front of her gown, even the strands of her hair trembling slightly. Just as she forced herself to take a step, two punks with colorfully dyed hair leaned against the wall at the entrance of the alley, whistling as they stopped in front of her. "Yo, this pretty girl is good looking enough, where are you going in such a pretty dress?" The gangster with green hair on his left stepped forward, his eyes swept over her body recklessly, from silver-white hair to golden high heels, the corner of his mouth hooked up in a frivolous smile, "How about my brother treating you to a drink? It's guaranteed to be more fun than you wandering around alone." Anna's heart instantly sank to the bottom, fear stabbing into her chest like an ice pick as tears welled up uncontrollably in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She desperately shook her head, a sharp and slurred "whimper" sound came out of her throat, and her feet subconsciously wanted to back up, but the blue footprints were still extending forward, so her legs could only stop stiffly in place. She knew too well the nature of these gangsters, once they were entangled, the consequences would be unimaginable - if they pulled, they would inevitably find her bound arms and the stolen goods in her pockets, and then not to mention that the collar would be triggered, but the gangsters' entanglement alone would be enough to expose her. "Why don't you say anything? Are you shy or dumb?" The yellow-haired punk on her right reached out and was about to touch her shoulder, his fingertips getting closer and closer with the smell of smoke. At this moment, the collar on Anna's neck suddenly made a soft sound of "beep", and the originally lit green light turned orange-red at a speed visible to the naked eye, and the cold metallic touch instantly warmed up, as if foretelling a fatal danger. She froze in fear, with only one thought left in her mind: not to be touched, definitely not to be entangled! Perhaps the warning signal from the collar was synchronized to the control system of the heels, the originally fixed blue footprints suddenly became sharp, and the direction was violently shifted to the fork in the road on the other side of the alley. In the next second, Anna's legs were forcibly driven forward, her golden heels stepping on the ground with a panicked but urgent sound, her skirt swaying dramatically from running. She didn't even have time to react before her body had already bypassed the yellow-haired punk with his hand outstretched and ran wildly in the direction of the crowd. "Hey, how dare you run?" The green-haired punk cursed, and chased after her with the yellow-haired, shouting obscenities, "Don't run, pretty girl, it's not like brother will eat you!" Their footsteps were getting closer and closer behind them, Anna could clearly feel the cold sweat on her back dripping down her spine, her heart beating so furiously that it felt like it was going to crack her ribs, and the orange-red color of her collar was getting deeper and deeper, almost turning into a blinding red. She desperately tried to make herself run faster, but the movement of her legs was completely controlled by her high heels, the amplitude and frequency of each step was fixed, and she could only rely on the route set by the system to weave through the crowd. Fortunately, there are still quite a few passersby around who are buying food and shopping, seeing two punks running after a woman, they have cast a different gaze, some even open their mouths to scold: "What are you doing in broad daylight!" The gangsters were concerned about the eyes of the passers-by, did not dare to make a big deal out of it, chased seven or eight steps and then slowed down, cursed at Anna's back for a few sentences, unwillingly turned around and left. Only when the footsteps behind her were completely inaudible did Anna's body violently stutter under the control of her high heels, as if all her strength had been drained away, and her back slammed heavily against the cold wall. She gasped openly through her gagged mouth, the sponge in her throat smothering her eyes, each breath carrying a damp, fishy odor. The orange-red color of the collar slowly faded back to an icy green, but the searing pain of those few seconds was like a red-hot iron, seared deep into the skin of her neck, and along with it, her limbs trembled uncontrollably - her legs trembled the most, her black-silk-wrapped knees bumping incessantly and making a subtle scuffling sound, and she had to rely on the wall's support to even stand before she could barely stabilize herself.

In the next second, the golden chain on the side of her waist suddenly moved, like a living snake, rapidly tightening and twisting in a pulley-driven manner. Anna only felt that her arms were yanked behind her by a huge force, and a tearing pain came from her shoulder joints, her two bound hands were forced together behind her back, and the chains wrapped up along her wrists, firmly fixing her hands at her spine, so that even her fingertips couldn't move. At the same time, the golden shoelaces on her feet began to deform of their own accord, and the carbon fiber cords tightened and knotted like living creatures, tying her ankles firmly together, even her toes were fixed into a side-by-side stance, completely locking her gait. Just when she thought that her body would be completely nailed to death, there suddenly came a small "tick" sound from her neck - the collar's dim light slowly dimmed, and the nerve restriction that had been clamping down on the rotation of her neck suddenly loosened. What made her heart beat wildly was that the driving tremor of the high-heeled shoes at her ankles completely disappeared, the numbness of being pulled by an invisible force faded away, and the palms of her feet were finally able to clearly feel the friction of the soles of the shoes against the rough rubber of the compartment's floorboards. "Control ...... lifted?" This thought struck into her mind like a bolt of lightning, and Anna's pupils underneath her silver-white hair suddenly lit up, even her breathing quickened a few moments. She couldn't wait to verify it - she tried moving her neck first, her head turning from side to side with ease, the tips of her hair sweeping over the dusty edges of her mask with the movement, a dull numbness still lingering on the skin that had been pricked by the collar earlier, but no longer the constraints that had forced it to snap back. She even tilted her head slightly to see the white lamps at the top of the compartment, the blurred logos on the black bags stacked in the corners, and then her fingers. she pushed her knuckles as hard as she could, and though she couldn't bend them with the bandages and the latex, she could feel the subtle ache in the tips of her fingers - her own muscular strength! It was a feeling that belonged to his own muscles, not a mechanical tremor of nerve interference. But this ecstasy lasted only half a second before it was crushed by the cold reality. She violently tried to raise her hands to break free from the chains behind her back, the muscles in her arms contracted violently, the biceps under the latex tights tensed up in a pronounced arc, and even her shoulders trembled slightly from the exertion. But the chain was like welded to her body, only issued a "click" a slight sound of the core of the lock biting, and did not move. The links wrapped around her wrists were so deep into her latex jacket that she could feel the coldness and hardness of the metal through the fabric, pinning her hands to her spine, unable to move them even half an inch. She tried bending her knees and lifting her legs, trying to break free of the ankle bindings, the black silk wrapped calf muscles instantly bulged into a hard mass, but her knees could only bend less than ten degrees, the carbon fiber laces strangled her ankles, her skin was strangled with deep red marks, even the curling of her toes in her heels carried a tearing sensation of pain. Her silver-white hair was damp with cold sweat, a few strands sticking to the corners of her forehead, mixing with the stains on the edges of her mask in a wretched and desperate manner. She could only maintain the humiliating position with her hands tied behind her back and her feet together, twisting her body in place in small increments - her waist and stomach trying to lean to the side with force, only to be pulled back into place by the traction of the chains; her legs alternately rubbing against the ground slightly, the black silk rubbing against the floorboard of the compartment with a fine sound, but she couldn't even change the standing position. The hem of her gown scrunched upwards as she twisted, revealing the red marks at the base of her thighs where the latex garment had strangled her; the crushed diamonds and pearl embellishments were a liability at the moment, clashing together with the movement, making a crisp yet ironic sound, as if mocking her futile endeavors. The physical torture became clearer and clearer - the chains behind her back hurt her shoulder blades, and every twist was like being crushed by a blunt instrument; the binding of her ankles blocked her circulation, and the palms of her feet had long been numb and swollen, and the metal toes of her heels had squeezed her toes insensible, with only the sting of her fingernails embedded in her flesh being particularly sharp; her latex leotard was drenched in cold sweat, and itched and itched to her skin as she clung to it. The latex tights were soaked with cold sweat, sticking to her skin and itchy, her body temperature kept rising in the confined space, like she was stuffed into a hot steamer, every breath was sticky with hot flashes. What made her even more devastated was that the sticky wet traces left behind by the hooligans harassed before were still left inside the latex clothing, and now with the twisting of her body, the disgusting wetness repeatedly rubbed over her skin, like a brand of shame that couldn't be washed away.

To Leah's greatest despair, the women pulled out a clear silicone mouth mask, the inside of which was slick with a sticky, gelatinous substance. The women cupped her jaw and forced her to open her mouth, first stuffing in a ball of gauze soaked in the potion to block her voice, then firmly affixing the mask to her mouth, covering it from just below the bridge of her nose all the way down to her chin, with the edges sealed with medical tape. This made it impossible for her to make a sound, even chewing and swallowing became difficult, and she could only breathe hard through her nose. The moment they released their grip, Leah subconsciously tried to move her feet, only to be violently pressed by one of the women on her shoulder. "Stand still and don't move." The women bent down and took out a pair of silver metal high heels from a box in the corner, the heels were fifteen centimeters, the toes were a sharp square-toe design, and the vamps were cross-wrapped with metal chains, looking at them with an icy sense of oppression. They forcibly lifted Leah's feet and shoved her palms into the high heels, the coolness of the metal spreading up along the soles of her feet, the mouth of the shoes stuck tightly at her ankles, there was not even room to turn her ankles. To add to her alarm, the women pulled another pair of silver metal leg restraint rings from the box, the insides of the rings lined with rough rubber pads. They slipped the corset rings over the tops of Leah's knees, and with a slight twist of the knobs on the side, the rings immediately tightened, holding her legs firmly together, so that her knees could only be held in a slightly flexed position, and she couldn't even take a step, but could only stand side by side like a marionette. "These shoes and the leg binding rings are customized, don't think about struggling." The women's voices pierced Lia's ears like ice picks. They then walked Leah by the rack to the decorative metal wall on the other side of the room - a wall that looked like decoration, but was actually covered in movable metal buckles and chains. One of the women undid the tape holding the gauze on Lia's lower arms, pulled her "fisted" hands behind her back, aligned them with the two metal clasps on the wall, and slipped a locking chain through the gaps in the gauze, locking them securely to the clasps. The length of the chain was just enough for her to maintain a standing position, and as long as she slightly bent over or raised her hands, the chain would strangle her wrists, completely sealing off the possibility of movement of her hands. At first, when she was pressed into the chair to do her makeup, Leah had a glimmer of confidence hidden in her heart - a miniature razor blade hidden in her hair, an encrypted USB flash drive in the heel compartment of her shoe, and three trackers on her body were her last hope. But with the metal heels, leg rings and chains on her body, her self-confidence was dismantled a little bit. When the woman searched away the blades in her hair and crushed the USB flash drive in the heel compartment, Leah's heart sank completely - the props she had carefully prepared were nothing more than casual trash in the eyes of the other party.