A.N.: I just want to say, if you have an issue with the way I portray the characters in this chapter, please send me an email at the address: theacoustics at pixelpets dot ORG. Thanks much. I'd like to discuss the show, this story, and any issues you have with my writings there, and would preffer you not clutter my review board with them. I'm not saying don't hate me. I'm saying please don't hate me on my review board. You can hate me in my inbox all you like.

No owning. But I will say: It's called FANfiction for a reason. Really.

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Hearing Parker's words, Hardison looked at Kayler's picture. "Damn, I don't blame him…" he said quietly, partially to avoid Parker's rantings.

"I said it once, I'll say it again, Parker. There's something wrong with you," Eliot told her, pointing for emphasis.

"Okay, well whatever the reason, we're taking the job," Nathan announced, in an effort to stop the fight before it started.

"You…you are? Oh, thank you. Thank you so much," Mrs. Lennin exclaimed, calming down, her tears stopping.

"Come on, everyone. Let's get out of her living room," Nate told the group. Eliot shot Parker a glare. Hardison packed up his laptop, and then they all left the house.

-x-

I sat on the bed, flopping back. What time was it? How long had I been here? Standing, pulling out my cell phone, it hit me. This is a cell phone. Like, to call people with. I held it towards the window, watching my little one bar service climb to a decent three bars. I dialed the house.

It didn't even ring. It went straight to the automated, "We're sorry, but this number is unavailable. Please hang up and try again."

With a groan, I hung up. I tried Emily, my lab partner and best friend since seventh grade, on her cell. "We're sorry," the automated tone tried this time. I hung up, dialing 9-1-1.

"We're," it got out before I screamed and threw the phone at the wall. I took a deep breath, and then crawled off the bed and towards the phone.

If my hunch was right, I'd smash this thing with a sludge-hammer if I got out of here. I flipped open the phone, and carefully read the "Settings" menu from the cracked screen. Selecting "Phone Information" I scrolled for my minutes.

"You've got to be kidding," I muttered to the phone. "Figures. When I actually need a phone, it's got no minutes."

Of course I had neglected to refill my minutes. And of course I figured anyone I needed to talk to I'd TALK to, and so I had disabled texting when I got the phone. At least I still had access to Facebook, even if it was slow. I groaned again, falling backwards and laying on the floor.

What do you know. Floor's more comfortable than the bed.

-x-

"Come on, Kayler, get back online please…" Hardison mumbled to the computer on his lap. He drummed his fingers on the keyboard, watching the blonde's Facebook profile.

"Didn't you get her cell signal hours ago?" Eliot asked, turning his head from the road to the techie for a moment. "Hardison, I have no idea where we're supposed to be going."

"Yeah, well I can't really do anything about that, man," Hardison shot back. "It's not my fault we have to keep going in circles back through that dead zone!" He looked to the screen, waiting for any sort of change. Hitting F5, Hardison smirked. "Okay, I've got her. Lemme get her cell's I.P. address… Okay, I've got a lock on her signal…" he started, the rest fading to an incoherent mumble.

"That's great, Hardison. Where am I going?" Eliot asked, looking at the screen.

"Left up here on Walnut. Take it for two and a half miles and take the back-road. It's by a McDonalds or something. Yeah, McDonalds."

"Thank you," Eliot replied, shaking his head slightly.

-x-

I had almost fallen asleep when the monk guys kicked at me. I started doubting they were monks.

"Who the hell are you people?!" I screamed at them, standing up from the floor and walking backwards, back to the wall, away from them. I would have run for the door, but there were apparently more than two monk guys holding me hostage.

"Miss Lenin, we told you…" one started, walking towards me, his arms outstretched towards me. "We are but humble monks of this temple."

"Why the hell would a group of monks take a girl hostage?" I yelled, backing away even more. My back hit the wall, and I slowly felt around the wall, seeing if anything jutted out from the surface that I could climb up.

"We only wanted to share our knowledge with one of California's students," the monk told me. He put a hand on my shoulder, which brought up a statistic I once read.

90% of rape cases start with a touch of the shoulder.

Oh shit. Oh, holy freaking shit. They have me right where they want me, and there's nowhere I can run. "Why me?" I asked, my voice quieter from fear.

"Why not you?" the "monk" asked in reply. His hand slid down from my shoulder, down my arm, and he rubbed his thumb against my chest. I threw my arm out against him, pulling his arm away from me.

"Don't you dare touch me!" I screamed. He tried to grab me with his other arm, but I kicked at him a few times. I only made contact with his legs, but it pushed him far enough back that I could get a good kick in to a certain area I hear is most painful on men. He crumpled up and fell to the floor, and so I kicked at him like he kicked at me.

"Hey, hey rapist, wake up!" I shouted at him, and then I ran for my cot thing. Jumping over it, I grabbed the pen on the desk. Another one of the rapist people came running for me, so I stabbed his left shoulder, in that nerve area in between the bones, with the pen. He screamed and staggered away from me, another guy taking his place.

"You asshole!" he shouted at me, but I just laughed from the fear and adrenaline and grabbed the still burning candle on the table. I threw it at him, his "robes" catching on fire. He started freaking out, slapping at the flames.

"I'm a bitch, there's a difference!" I shouted back. "Stop, drop, and roll!" I advised him, and he did so. But he didn't think of where he was rolling. He rolled right over to me, and I kicked at his "painful area" and tried to make a break for it. But I forgot about the three that were waiting at the door.

"Miss Lenin. You made short work of our collegues," one told me, grabbing my arm and yanking me back. One of the other rapists grabbed my other arm. "Are you sure your major is Medical Sciences?"

"Nope. I'm an art major," I told them sarcastically. "Now let me go!" I screamed, as if that would really make a difference. The last guy walked into my "room" and helped his little rapist/monk buddies out.

"Certainly, Miss Lenin." Then the two rapists threw me back into the room and once again locked the door.