There are five guys, all armed, which is by no means a fair fight - for them. Every muscle tense, veins coursing with adrenaline, he laughs wildly as he waits for them to attack. "Bring it on, motherfuckers!" But they only surround him in a loose circle, backing up whenever he gets too close. He wonders what they are waiting for. That, apparently: A sixth man appears, pointing an oddly shaped gun at him. As it fires, he lunges to the right, but he's too slow. He feels a sharp pain in his side, but it's not like the pain from a bullet wound. He knows - he's had a lot of those. He touches his chest and finds a tranq dart imbedded there. That explains it. Then his legs go weak and his vision darkens. That's when the five thugs finally close in on him. He kicks and punches and even bites - from their pained screams he gets a couple of good shots in, but it isn't enough. As consciousness fades, he feels himself being carried, then dumped on a hard surface. And then nothing.
When Riggs didn't show up for their family dinner Murtaugh had a bad feeling that only intensifies when his partner isn't at work either the next morning. He looks over the bullpen. There are the usual suspects - the morning crew, as well as Bailey, who is pristine as always, but not looking completely awake yet. As he sits at his desk filling out overdue paperwork Roger tries to reassure himself - Riggs is, after all, often late for work. And the last time he missed dinner with them he had been perfectly alright too - well mostly. He had sported a rather nasty black eye after doing whatever he did instead of eating with the Murtaughs. And the slightly awkward way he held himself - like he was hurting, but trying not to show it -suggested there were more bruises hidden under his shirt… Murtaugh gives up his inner pep talk - it isn't really helping - and pulls out his phone. When he punches in Riggs' number, it goes straight to voicemail. Figures.
"Hey Bailey, have you seen Riggs today?"
She blinks at him and yawns. "No." Cruz arrives at the bullpen carrying two cups of coffee. He hands one to Bailey who gulps it down gratefully. More awake now, she looks sharply at Murtaugh. "Something the matter? You seem worried."
Unsure how to explain it, he shrugs. "Nah, just this feeling I've been having - like something's not right." Before he can elaborate, a rather serious looking Avery appears and motions to them.
"Murtaugh, Bailey, Cruz, to my office now. And please send someone to get Dr. Cahill, too." Roger and Bailey share a look - they had both noticed that their captain hasn't asked about Riggs' whereabouts. This can't be good.
So it was with trepidation that Roger enters Avery's office. "So what's up, cap?" He nods to the big screen behind Avery's desk, which shows a freeze frame from a video. There is not much to see, as the camera is currently pointing at the floor. "Got something to show us? This better not be a sex tape of you and your lover." His attempt at lightening the sober atmosphere is clearly not appreciated - Avery only grimaces and says curtly: "It isn't. But please wait until the Doc gets here. We will need all our skills to resolve this situation." After a couple of uncomfortable minutes of staring at each other or at the screen with its unhelpful freeze frame, Maureen arrives.
Avery nods to her and begins: "This video was sent to us by the Master Race Brotherhood, a gang of skinheads relatively new to L.A. As you probably heard, we arrested their leader, Branston Cole, about a week ago. This is their response." Avery pushes a button and the video starts. The camera pans up and everyone gasps at the sight they are presented with.
The first thing they see is a man sitting slumped over in a chair, with his hands cuffed to the arms of the chair. Though his face is obscured by his curly hair, it's clear that they are looking at Riggs. He is completely motionless and his clothes are lightly splattered with blood. Though there aren't any obvious wounds on him, the sight makes Roger's stomach turn. A quick glance to the others shows that they aren't unaffected either. Movement on the screen makes him turn his attention back to it. A man steps into view.
"We are the Master Race Brotherhood. You have captured Master Cole without reason. We demand that you release him-" Grabbing a handful of curly hair, the speaker - who Murtaugh has silently dubbed Knife Guy due to the huge blade he's waving around - lifts Riggs head up. "Or your detective will die."
Knife Guy opens his mouth to continue, but a chuckling sound coming from the seemingly unconscious man makes him fall silent. Perplexed, he lets go of his captive's hair. Riggs looks up at them. "Man, are you serious? You sound fucking ridiculous! 'We demand' - did you rehearse this?"
Recovering from the shock of having his hostage criticize him, the gangster backhands him across the face. "Shut the fuck up!"
Riggs keeps laughing, even as blood from his split lip runs down his chin. "On the other hand, love what you've done with the place." He pretends to look around. "Real nice here. You were going for the full 'abandoned warehouse' look, weren't you?" This time, Knife Guy turns around and stabs his knife in Riggs' upper arm, who flinches but prattles on. "But what's with the smell? Kind of fishy, don't you think? You'll need one of those air-refresher thingies, those whatchacallits-"
Fed up, Knife Guy motions to Rifle Guy, who in turn smacks their captive in the face with his weapon. The resulting thud makes Roger wince. He usually admires his partner's indomitable nature and enjoys it when they banter to annoy criminals, but right now he wishes that Riggs would stop giving them any more reasons to hurt him. But the former SEAL - never one to back down - keeps going, despite the blood now coursing down his face from a cut over his eye. "Ow. Hey, there's no need to be rude, I'm just complimenting you on your choice of hideout." Then, noticing the gun he's just been hit with, he adds with apparently genuine enthusiasm: "Hey, nice rifle! Is it a Atlanta Gunworks Model 9? The one with a folding stock and optional scope? I always wanted to have one of those, they're really practical. You can use it for close combat, but with some modifications it makes a pretty decent sniper rifle, too. You need to be careful, though, because they tend to jam when they're not properly taken care of. You do dissemble it on a regular basis and clean every component with WD-40?" Riggs squints critically at Rifle Guy. Perplexed and obviously uncomfortable with such close scrutiny, the gangster mumbles "No, not really." "Ah, then it's probably useless by now. That's a real shame. But there's a way to check it. Do you want me to-?" He jerks his chin at the weapon. Rifle Guy nods hesitantly. "Uh, sure." "But you need to get closer, 'cause I've got blood in my eye, makes it kinda hard to see." The guy complies and takes a couple of steps in Riggs' direction, who bends forward as much as his bindings allow to inspect the weapon.
Incredulous, Bailey turns to Murtaugh. "Is he seriously giving them tips on proper gun handling?" He shrugs helplessly. "Riggs really loves his guns." But the real reason becomes clear as Rifle Guy is now close enough for Riggs to kick him first in the knee - everyone flinches at the resounding crunch - and then in the head when he goes down, the gun clattering as it hits the ground. The pained shouting of course snaps Knife Guy out of the daze he seems to be stuck in - because this clearly goes different as planned - and brings the other gang members running. In the now resulting scuffle the camera falls to the floor and the screen goes black.