He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn't give.
"Don't bother," a voice said.
He looked up to discover a thin woman bound with the same rope. Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eyes and bloody wrists.
"I already tried."
"What's your name?" he asked as he studied the woman. She couldn't have been much older than thirty, her long brown hair was matted with blood and a frown played across her lips.
"Emily" she said almost hesitantly and watched as he laughed slightly to himself. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing sorry, I know an Emily. She's my coworker, well my boss now but were all friends, really family where I work," he explained to Emily as she watched him with curiosity.
"Where do you work?" she asked after a moment.
"I'm a Profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI. We're based out of Quantico, Virginia" he told her his voice dropping with what seemed like grief.
"What happened to them?"
"I'm not sure" he admitted sadly before a look of determination took over "But I know wherever they are they'll be looking for me and we'll get out of this alive."
She almost believed him, just for one moment there was a flicker of hope before she remembered where they were. They were never getting out, well she might but this guy wasn't, whoever took them hated men with a passion or at least men who looked like this guy. FBI or not there was no way he was escaping this at least not without damage. She didn't know his name she realized, she didn't even think she had asked as much yet.
"What's your name?" Emily asked him her neck beginning to hurt from the strain of watching him over her shoulder. He said nothing, he had turned back around and didn't say a word and it was silent for a few minutes. It was almost as if he was trying to determine whether or not her could trust her with that knowledge.
"David Rossi" he said finally.
She looked back at him once more, really straining her neck to see him. He was older, looked to be in his 60's, his hair was white and gray from what seemed like stress and age, his face was kind and tired and he had a goatee. His cloths were dirty but nice, like they had been expensive but then dragged through the mud. He wore jeans, and a dark blue dress shirt tucked into his pants with a nice belt. The top two buttons of his shirt were open and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his shoes looked to be expensive Italian boots and were caked in mud. A gold cross necklace hug from around his neck and a rather large ring sat proudly on his right ring finger. Just from looking at him she could tell he was well off and probably extremely well respected in his field.
"Do you remember how you got here?" his voice cut into her thoughts. She had been staring at him for quite some time in deep thought but he figured maybe she knew something that could help them.
"No but then again I've been here so long I'm starting to be convinced there's no world outside of here."
"There is" he assured he quickly seeing the hopelessness in her eyes. Dave barely remembered what happened, one second he was getting home after a long case and the next he was out cold and waking up in this...what is this? He looked around now taking in his surroundings for the first time. It looked like an empty concrete basement, the walls were stained with blood and so was the floor. In the corner of the room an eye looked back at him causing a shiver of uneasiness to roll through him. He turned his head to look at the other side and saw a work bench full of hand made tools also stained with blood and his hope slipped a little. He was a seasoned veteran but even he had to admit this didn't look good for him.
"I've watched him" she said so quietly, Dave wasn't sure he heard her.
"What?"
"He forces me to watch him as he tortures the men he brings in here. Always asking if I like it and when I say no he hits me but the second I say yes he kills them" she confided. Their lives, Dave's life lay in her hands and she knew when it came down to it eventually he'd die because she could only handle so much.
Dave took this in before asking her one question that would really reveal his odds of living long enough for the team to find him "How many?"
"You'll probably be dead by the end of the day tomorrow," was all she replied and he nodded his head in silent acceptance.
"They'll find you. Even if I do die, they'll find you because they'll never stop looking for me" David assured her.
"He'll kill them," she warned.
"He can try but he'll fail, they always do."
"Not this time. Not this guy."
"Maybe not but if he does he'll never get away because the entire FBI will be after him for killing their best team and group of agents. He'll never be left alone," Rossi said with a new sort of determination.