The air hung humid in the soiled basement. Upstairs a man could be heard pacing and the woman could make out his muttered cusses through the air duct.

She didn't move, bound in thick, course rope, pinning her arms tightly behind her back. Every twitch and quiver sent a shot of pain between her thighs. She choked out a sob against the thick, bloodied gag.

She was going to die down here.

-

*ring**ring**ring*

Mac Taylor glanced at his phone, and quirked a brow.

"What's wrong?" Stella peered at him from the other side of the crime scene.

"That's strange," Mac hit the accept button, "its Agent Grey."

"Agent Grey?"

"Hello?" Mac spoke into the receiver, raising a hand to silence his friend.

"Detective Taylor?" The voice was weak, tired. "This is Connor Grey, Mar-" His breath hitched on the other end of the line, "Mar…Marcy's partner."

"Yes, I remember. How can I be of service?"

There was a brief silence before Connor spoke again, "do…has there been any…Jane Does in the past couple weeks?"

"Yes, of course there has, why?" Mac said, cradling the phone to his shoulder as he spun the stirrer stick in his beverage.

"Marcy's missing, Mac."

The cup slipped from his hand.

-

Her head smacked off the concrete floor as he flung her on to the floor. She groaned, pulling her legs up to her body as he went to pry them apart. A smothered yelp escaped her throat as the man raked his nails over the bruised skin of her leaving thin, long welts in their passing.

A chuckled admitted from him, "breaking so quickly, kitten?"

She blinked back her tears, trying to ignore the sight of her own blood, which coated the cold floor, as she heard the familiar sound of a bottle breaking. She crossed her legs tighter, whimpering as he yanked at the flimsy material of her underwear.

"Well," The man stopped his pulling. A hint of amusement lacing his steely voice, "I guess I'll just have to play with another part of you."

-

"Adam?"

He looked over at her grinning, "Hey Stella, what's up?"

Stella wiped her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time. She turned her hazel eyes to the ground, brushing some of her curly hair back.

"Stella?" Adam asked, a faint hint of worry lining his voice. "What's wrong?"

"Adam." She repeated, sucking in an unsteady breathe. She still couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "I-it's Marcy."

"What, uh, what about her?" His voice caught in his throat as she finally looked up at his panic stricken features.

"We have reason to believe she's been abducted." Stella said, trying to remain professional as she watched the young lab tech's face crumble.

"W-what do you mean, abducted?" Adam shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at his co-worker. "Well, the FBI, they'll-they'll be looking for her right?"

"Yeah, they, they are, it's just it's been almost three weeks, and this-" Stella looked away from him again, "the sonofabitch has been taunting them, Adam."

"Three weeks?" He whispered, trying to remember the last e-mail he'd gotten from her, the last phone call. "But she was in London a month ago."

"Agent Grey suspects he got her at the airport or was waiting for her at her apartment." She said, trying to keep her tone stoic, but failing as she briskly wiped some more tears away. "He's been sending them," She swallowed, disgust contorting on her face, "pictures, clothing, even a video."

Adam's eyes moistened as he, against his better judgment, asked, "A video of what, Stella?"

Not trusting herself to saying anything, Stella pulled the man into an embrace as she wept. "I'm so sorry."

He locked his arms around her, "It's not your fault." Adam said, and then dropped his voice as he murmured, "it's mine."

"Excuse me?" A strong, feminine voice cut through the air as the two separated. An older, African-American woman stood next to a young, pale man, whose hands were deep in his pockets. "We're looking for a Mac Taylor?"

"Oh," Stella wiped her eyes, "You must be Caroline. Marcy-"

"Yeah, yeah, she talks about me all I the time I know." The woman cut her off, waving her hand, "but this," she gestured to the younger woman's tears, and general disarray, "ain't helpin' the girl, so knock it off."

Stella put her arms around herself, as the young man stepped forward, "You must be Ms Bonasera." He put his hand out for her to shake, "Don't mind her, she's just as rattled up as you are, although she considers crying a weakness which renders her unable to express her pain during this time of vulnerability."

"Shut up, cherie." Caroline snapped, "You're here to help, not gossip."

"Sorry." The young man's brown eyes drifted to the other man, "you must be Adam."

His was tone considerately more quiet when he said this, and Adam felt a pang of annoyance. These people were supposed to be finding her, not pitying him.

"Got any idea who did this?"

"No. Serial killers with this type of-"

"Serial killers?" Stella said, "What do you mean-"

"Miss Allerdyce was in the middle of investigating a series of murders we believe to have been committed by one man. Doctor Sweets," Caroline directed her gaze to the young man next to her, "believes that they were committed by one man."

"So this guy has Marcy?" Adam asked, not really trusting his voice to be above a whisper.

Sweets nodded, his voice broke slightly. "Yes. The mocking, the teasing, the general brute force behind his actions, gives me the impression that it's the same man."

-

She winced as she rubbed her wrists together. Letting out a huff of air she tried to take the pressure off them. Rolling onto her stomach, the woman groaned, feeling the grime from the cot ground into her open lacerations. Wincing, she leered at her surroundings.

Filthy, small with the only light coming from a tiny window. Too tiny to crawl out of, even if she had the use of her arms.

A/N: Okay. First installment done. Yes, for the sake of the story I had to kind of destroy Marcy, and no, it does not get much better from here on. Be prepared, this story is rated M, mostly for swearing and violence. Besides, if I knock her down I get to build her back up again.