Author's Note:

We got Sergio again. Just not in great context.
I have theories about why he is where he is, and they're not particularly happy.

Have fun!

The moment he opened his eyes - barely squinting, it was hard to manage more, they have you drugged - it was easy to figure out that he was under fluorescent lights again. That was normal enough, though Sergio wasn't sure he had been inside before. Things were still fuzzy and it took a few hard blinks to get anything to start clearing up. Really bright lights, grey walls, no furniture other than the chair he was in, one door...he knew these types of rooms.

He just usually wasn't the one zip-tied in place

Sergio knew he had a high tolerance for any kind of narcotics. There had been multiple missions that he had managed to get the upper hand simply because he'd come to earlier than someone expected. It was taking longer than usual to clear his head, though, and that was strange. Most people didn't give him enough of any sedative to last this long - they know, it's them, they're the only ones who know about that…

"Shit…" No, don't react. Some decent sedatives didn't prove it was them, and if it was it wouldn't help to panic. He fought the urge to shake his head, eyes closing again. Focus, he needed to focus. The zip-ties were secure, locked around the chair behind his back. Hypothetically he could dislocate a thumb and get the other hand loose, but that probably wouldn't do much good if he couldn't even get past the door. No other exits, nothing that could be used as a weapon apart from the chair, and so far no other sounds that might help identify where he was.

You've been in worse places. Just keep your head, think of a way out.

It took another minute or two for anyone to come in, proving at least that they had been keeping an eye on him. Sergio could hear a few murmured voices beyond the door - nothing identifiable, and the sound was gone as soon as the latch clicked again. It was only then that he looked up. The man who had come in looked almost curious, glancing a few times down at the file and back. Nothing identifiable on him, nothing too extraordinary at all yet, though if the careful way he kept his distance was anything to go by, he knew enough to not underestimate his hostage.

"Vos cheveux sont plus courts."

Sergio had to take a moment, pushing through the haze, to realize that was French, and another moment to translate it. It had been a long time since he'd needed French - all of the recruits had to learn it, since there was a good chance of them being sent to headquarters at some point. He'd gotten a bit rusty, and it was never a huge priority considering most of his work had been in the Americas, but - hell, it is them…

Ilaria was the only group in Paris that had the skills to grab him without him even being aware of it. He'd known coming anywhere near the city had been risky, but it'd been a necessary evil and he'd told Anana -

Shit.

Sergio pointedly ignored the other man, doing another quick sweep of the room as if hoping he'd somehow missed her the first time. Maybe they hadn't grabbed her - maybe she'd been out when they got him, he still couldn't remember exactly when that had happened, maybe she'd managed to slip away, get into hiding like he'd taught her, maybe…

"They did tell me you were stubborn." The guy was talking again, this time in English, as if that might help move the conversation along. Probably assumed Sergio had managed to forget every bit of French they'd drilled into him - the English didn't take as much effort to think through, at least. "I think we will get straight to the point, then. You have been a nuisance for quite a long time, Major."

No ultimatums straight off, that was something. Sergio pulled in a breath, squaring his shoulders a little as he looked the man in the eye with a very slight sneer. "Major, huh? I've still got my title? How kind of you."

That was ignored, and after another quick glance-over the file was closed and tucked under one arm. "Your bloodwork was surprisingly clean, considering the nature of your last mission." Of course they'd taken blood, he didn't even want to consider what they might want with his blood. "Still excellent at your work, considering how long you managed to avoid our notice, although there was the slip-up in Chile…"

"Thought we were getting to the point," Sergio cut in, noting his voice had gotten a little louder than intended. He could be patient. It just got harder when secured to a chair in what he assumed was the headquarters of the organization that surely wanted him dead. Really, there should probably be a little more concern than he was managing right now.

No panic, though; panic wouldn't help him get out, and it wouldn't help Anana, wherever she was. As ideal as burning the place to the ground sounded at this point, he would be content with just getting away and getting as far from Paris as possible. He resisted the urge to shift in the chair, pointedly staring the man down. "You gonna shoot me here or somewhere a little easier to clean up?"

"On the contrary," the tone was almost condescending and just begged a good punch in the face, "I'm simply here to give you an offer."

"Yeah, well you can take that offer and shove it -"

"The board would like you back."

That, admittedly, had not been something he expected. Sergio felt himself frowning before he managed to get his expression clear again. "They want me back." The man nodded briskly, and Sergio nearly laughed, glancing around the room once more. "Well, as utterly tempting as that might be, I'm afraid I'll have to tell the board to fuck off."

No surprise. He hadn't expected any, really. He also didn't expect the man going to the door and opening it enough to lean out. Whatever he called down the hall was muffled enough and French enough that he couldn't quite catch the words. It only took a few seconds for the next guy to come in, but recognizing this one was even more surprising. He knew Hector.

It had been years, of course, and the last time they had run into each other had been in the base in Rio, only in passing, barely a nod of acknowledgement...but he recognized him nonetheless. He definitely knew Hector, and he knew that his arrival meant nothing good.

They watched each other a few moments in silence. Unlike the first guy, Hector actually had a gun at his hip. Of course they had to know that anyone who tried to get a hold of it would be dead before they hit the ground. Sergio was well aware of that, at least - they'd sparred together in training, gone through all of the firearms tests and the various lessons on covert jobs, and he'd seen just how fast that gun could be drawn. He'd seen just how unnecessary that gun really was.

They'd found pretty early on that Sergio specialized in covert. Hector, on the other hand, had found his calling in interrogation.

"You in the neighborhood," Sergio finally asked, trying for a light tone, "or did they ship you up here just for my benefit?"

Hector seemed to almost smirk, head tilting to one side a little as if he were sorting out a puzzle. "Oh no, I'm stationed here. Moving up in the world, y'know."

"Impressive. So I should be honored than they sent you in." He managed to keep his expression fairly blank as he searched the other man's face, looking for some hint at his next move. Nothing was obvious. That wasn't surprising. "They do realize that I can take whatever they throw at me, right? Even you?"

That got a soft scoff, and Hector pulled a small pocketknife out, flipping the blade open. "Calm down, Serge." It took some effort not to grimace at the nickname – nothing good ever seemed to follow the nickname. It took a good deal more effort not to instinctively wince when the metal of the blade pressed into his wrist before the plastic tie gave way, and the other one followed suit quickly. "I'm not here for you."

He didn't look in the least bit concerned, which probably meant he had no reason to be. Sergio rubbed his wrists absently, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the options again quickly. He knew his skillset. He knew he was one of the best agents Ilaria had in action before the incident in the Arctic. He also knew that they were aware of that as well. If they were untying him, it was because there were contingencies set in case he was stupid enough to try and run immediately.

No, he'd wait. Figure something out first. This had to have an actual plan.

Hector jerked his head toward the door and Sergio stood cautiously, blinking away the black spots that swam in front of his eyes for a moment. It took a little convincing to get his legs to cooperate fully, but he did manage to at least walk straight when he followed the other man out into the hall.

"You've been the talk of the year," Hector told him conversationally, hands in his pockets as if there weren't a single threat to be found. "I mean, next to Hatake going all bat-shit crazy on us. That was coming for a while, though, but you skipping town…" He let out a low whistle and what might have been a chuckle. "That was a curveball. Sent the administration crazy for a while."

"Glad to be an inconvenience," Sergio muttered. "What's your year been like? Kill anyone in the chair in a while?"

The small grin that answered that was almost enough to make it look like the question was absurd – that there was no way this guy was anything more than a pleasant man in a suit looking a little out of place in the detention facilities. It was the eyes that gave it away, though, and Sergio was immediately sure that he was right; someone had been killed, probably recently, and he was positive he didn't want to know the full story.

Hector was a terrifying mixture of all of the best interrogators wrapped into one. He could switch from friendly and helpful to cold and tactical in a split second, go from comforting someone to snapping their wrists in the next. Ilaria loved him, because he knew precisely how to administer pain. He knew what levels would knock someone out, what wouldn't be too bad until it went on for hour after hour, and at exactly what point their body would give up.

People either gave Hector precisely what he wanted or died in the chair. There wasn't a third option.

"So what's your deal, then?" They'd passed through a few doors and Sergio vaguely noted that the same chip-access system that they had installed at Arctic BioSystems was at play here as well. He knew he still had his – two now, technically, since he'd taken another to keep up cover at the base – but it was doubtful they had kept his code in the system. "Giving me a tour around the base or something?"

"You heard the offer," Hector said, scanning his hand yet again to a door that opened onto a stairwell. It was surprising when they went down – he'd already assumed they were below ground. "I'm just expanding on it."

"I already told the other guy, I'm not interested."

"We're not the enemy you know, Serge." That look may have been called pitying if it had been on anyone else. "You've been out in the field so long, you haven't seen the big picture – the full scope of what's being put into play here."

"I've been in the field long enough to see what it's doing to the rest of the world," Sergio growled, "and to realize that these higher-ups don't give a shit about the foot soldiers. Sutton was leaving me for dead on that ice, and she knew it, so pardon me if I've gotten a little sick of being expendable."

Hector shook his head, opening the next door and pausing, meeting Sergio's eyes steadily. "Suttons mistakes cost us a number of good men, and they won't be repeated. You're still one of the best, and with the work that's starting now, you'd be much more than just a foot soldier."

"You can drop the salesman routine, Hector." They pushed through the door into what looked like an observation room and the other man finally stopped fully, arms folding again. "The board and I don't see eye to eye. They're gonna kill me anyway, so might as well get it over with now."

Hector didn't reply immediately, and he was looking off toward the window set in the wall, that same almost-curious head tilt returning. "Well consider the offer officially expanded," he said after a while. The small sliver of ice that had crept into his tone made Sergio follow his gaze, and the ice managed to slip directly into his bloodstream when he processed things correctly.

Anana looked unconscious rather than asleep – there was a little too much tension for real sleep – and it was likely they'd simply drugged her as they had him. Only her hands were restrained, tied down to the chair's arms, but there were two guards posted and the fresh bruise on the forehead of one said they had learned a lesson about leaving her awake. That would've been slightly satisfying if not for the matching bruises scattered across the woman's visible skin, and one small cut at her hairline looked to still be bleeding a bit.

They did have her. He'd screwed up enough to get them both caught, and Anana had to pay for it.

Sergio couldn't bring himself to look away, but he managed to shift some of his attention back to Hector who was now watching him carefully. All traces of pleasantries had vanished by now. Gut reaction told him to deny it, claim he had no idea who she was, but it was far too late for that. It'd been unexpected and he hadn't had time to control his reaction. Precisely to plan, of course.

"Is she…part of the offer, then?" It was tough getting words out clearly, and he could practically feel Hector's satisfaction.

"Well it's like I said, Serge," the man told him smoothly, "I'm not here for you."

It felt like he might break a tooth, the way his jaw was clenching. Sergio thought he could taste a bit of blood from breaking open the inside of his cheek, knew he could taste bile, and swallowed once before letting out a slow, steadying breath. He forced himself to tear his eyes away, looking back at Hector with as much venom as he could muster.

"What do you want me to do?"

Hector's grin was rather sardonic, and he turned, one heavy hand on Sergio's shoulder to steer him back toward the door. His Brazilian accent slipped through a little into the three French words:

"Bienvenue soldat d'accueil."