Monstrous, part 2
A/N Here's the second part of this story. Monstrous, indeed. Still, please enjoy the ride. Thank you, Mulderette, n4d1n3, BlackBear53, IFeelPossessed, Wotumba1, Dramamama5 and JaniceS for leaving your reviews on the previous chapter.
"We've got another victim guys."
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Koreatown, Los Angeles
"The city of angels. Well, that's how the guy looks, right?"
Despite the disgust she felt, Hidoko couldn't hide her nervous giggle after Deeks' words. Indeed, the man was strapped on something which looked like an angel. If it hadn't been for the awful way he must have died, this man was handsome and she didn't know how to respond.
"Sam and Kensi are on their way. So is the coroner," she said, watching how Deeks was taking pictures of the victim.
"Poor guy probably bled to death," Deeks said. He stepped back and did some silent observations. "Why tie one up like this? And then, what kind of monster did this and how did they reach this high?"
Harley nodded and looked around. "I estimate like this, he's 7"5 feet high. No-one's that large."
"So you figure some kind of monster indeed," Deeks understood.
"Maybe the others will know," Hidoko replied. "Or perhaps the guys at Ops?"
She slid her phone from the pocket of her dark blue jacket once again and called in "We've got another victim guys."
She explained how they found the man more or less accidentally, because a dog of a young boy tore himself loose and started to howl in front of one of the doors of an escape room in Koreatown, right near the place Horton was found. Deeks had opened the door, only to find the man who already died.
Right now, Harley Hidoko felt it was better to wait outside. Videotaping, Eric had said. So, there had to be some camera's in the same room, which might explain the position of the odd angel-like metal form on which the man was strapped onto. But how did anyone manage to torture the poor man like they had done?
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Fernwood Avenue || Los Angeles
Water was splashed into his face. It was cold and he couldn't help it caused a short shudder. The moment Callen wanted to swipe the water from his lashes, he noticed how his hands were strangely bound sideways. Seconds later he realized how he was in an upright position strapped on some kind of metal. It was cold and he could move his head only slightly. It was really like one of the tables he'd witnessed in a morgue, only in here it was in a different shape, and vertical.
"Special agent G. Callen. Or we could call you Grisha Alekandrovich Nikolaev. Former DEA, former CIA, now NCIS' best team's agent in charge. Now, I don't have to tell you this is a real, real perfect catch for us."
He hadn't noticed the other man until those words were spoken. It was an odd thing to see somebody moving on a kind of wheelchair which was over 7 feet high. A black hood with holes in it to be able to see through covered the man's head.
Callen figured there must've been something in his beer which caused the muzzy feeling which still did not leave his brain. It was why he didn't respond, yet.
"You sure got some enemies, son," the man chuckled. "Did you know you're about the most wanted prey in town? Yet you simply walked in." He nodded at Callen. "You're ready?"
Callen still was feeling drowsy and despite the sounds of steel utensils and metal materials, he didn't have a clue of what was going on. It changed rapidly when the man came closer and a butan burner was lit right in front of his eyes.
He let out a quick inhaling gasp and wet his now dry lips. "Wait… wait," he urged. "What's going on? What — what did I do to you?" His eyes widened when the realization hit in that this was really happening.
The form of the man and his voice weren't familiar at all, but he appeared to consider his question anyway.
"Nothing. You didn't do anything to me, interestingly enough. But to some people elsewhere…" He shrugged and his arm suddenly was closer. Far too close and Callen realized there was no way to stop him. The flame was aimed carefully to the nylon which was strapped to keep his body in position. He started to breath heavily, unable to keep his gaze from the blue flame which was kept far too long in the same position. The material started to smoke and he felt it melting on his skin already. His bare skin… Somehow, someone took off his jacket and shirt beforehand.
"It's the Moreno cartel. They were curious to see how you'd respond to the feeling of being strapped… more permanently, actually. So, we'll have to wait and see."
The man was concentrating on his job. It seemed to last for hours and it only lasted minutes until the smell of the material and the burning on his skin made him both groaning in pain and sick at the same time.
"This one's done," the man spoke. "Now, there's the next."
"No. Please…" Callen pleaded, his voice nearly unheard. This was far from any ordinary situation he had ever been in. "Why?"
"Because they pay me to do so." It sounded so logical what the other man said. "You probably did something to make them interested enough from this kind of payback. Now, I don't need to know what it was, but you see, it's my job to do what they want. This is all they wanted me to do. Or perhaps the other way around, this is all I can do for them for the money they offered."
Meanwhile, the flame did its work and he couldn't hide the loud moans since the synthetic material burnt deeply into his skin.
"Spare it, boy. There's so much to come. Still, you should smile at the Moreno's now."
For a short while he managed to ban the pain and the anger was stronger. But Callen wasn't ready for anything else. Not ready for another round of any kind of torture. Sure, he'd gone through some before in his past. But not like this. Not… fully exposed like he was right now.
Besides, he was scared at the same time. The Moreno's, they were enemies from the past. This man knew too much of him and he understood he was made the moment Mosley and he walked into this party. He had come unprepared, except he was asked to keep an eye on a guy called Malley.
He had to know. "You're Malley?"
"Hell no. Malley… He's ATF. He helped me with the drugs though, and he and a female coworker provide names and files. Somehow yours leaked from files which were put on the market by a man called Keelson. Perfect, don't you think? Moreno's from Mexico. We hoped for the Comescu family in Romania, but they haven't responded yet. And there's a Russian former KGB agent called Molkov. You should know him too."
In a way, the man sounded polite. As if he only had a job to do. The burner was put away already. Right now, the hooded man turned to the opposite wall and nodded. "The camera will be rolling again, boy. You'd better be prepared."
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Ops Center || a little later
"So… there's this guy, Timothy Weir, who was found inside in of the escape rooms in town. At the same time, there were men with similar wounds nearby, Koreatown," Nell said, organizing her thoughts. "And you mentioned beforehand there were those feeds from another escape rooms at Hollywood Boulevard. Right?"
Eric swiveled his chair her way and nodded. "So?"
"So. It cannot be all coincidental. Two escape-rooms, more than two victims". Her fingers went over the keys as she specified her search.
Eric worked the keyboard as well "Let's see if there are any camera's around that have some stories to tell."
Both studied the screens, hoping to find a clue which could help the field agents and to solve the case.
The sliding doors opened behind them and neither of them paid a lot of attention to it, until Mosley's voice from behind them sounded, not exactly too polite at the moment.
"Has any of you seen agent Callen or know how to reach him?"
"Mosley!" Eric looked up in shock. "I mean… executive assistant director, Ma'am…"
"What Eric tries to tell you – no, we haven't seen him or heard from him. All I know is he was with Hetty."
"So he was. But after that, he and I left on an assignement and right now he's absent without noticing me."
"And he doesn't answer his phone?" Nell asked. Deep down, she supposed Callen left only to join his partner, but for the show she took a phone to try and dial his number.
Mosley exhaled deeply and shook her head. "I want you to see to it if there is anything caught on camera from this address." She dropped a note, then turned and left Ops.
"She is trying to nail him, don't you think?" Nell whispered. "You think we should let Sam know?"
Eric shook his head. "I don't know. Perhaps… She's not that bad. I mean, she even broke protocol to let the team go to Vietnam and come back with Hetty. What if you continue the search for those escape rooms, and I focus on Mosley's address?"
Nell shrugged as some kind of agreement and concentrated on her part of the job.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Fernwood Avenue || Los Angeles
"You know how much blood a man can lose before he loses consciousness?"
Callen refused to think of the consequences of the question and it made him shudder.
"Now, son, I think you do know, but somehow you refuse to discuss this matter." An odd chuckle sounded from under the hood. "Then let me explain."
It was the shortest contact of what appeared a surgical blade at the same spot where the nylon material had just melted on his skin. So far, Callen thought he'd blocked the pain. However, this renewed contact made him cry out loud, followed by a low groan.
"The pain won't kill you," the man said as he moved his vehicle and leaned back to watch his work. "Time will, though. In fact, now I see this steady flow of blood. No spurt, no gush. Once you've lost 1 liter you'll feel dizzy, and I estimate that once it is somewhere between the 1,5 and 2 liters, your body will go through serious complications which can lead to death. This will be great work to watch."
The man turned the high wheelchair away from where Callen was tied up in the room and moments later, a spotlight was aimed at Callen.
Callen tried to suppress some kind of hyperventilation, which he felt simply because of the message and the fact there was no way to escape all by himself. He tried to observe how bad this wound was but it was hardly possible to look down, and again, he felt sick to the bone that he simply knew it was bad, but that he was unable to fight it.
From his position he could see how the man had lifted the hood to watch the screen of a small tablet.
"Exactly what I figured, Mr. Callen. We've got 23 voyeurs right now, all interested in what will happen next. Some of them put bets on how soon it'll all come to an end." Again, the man turned to see if his work was indeed having the effects he envisioned.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Ops Center || half an hour later
His system beeped only a moment before hers did. Both of them gasped — too shocked to know what to do for a couple of seconds.
"Sam…", Nell said. "He needs to… to…"
Eric shook his head. "I don't know. They're how far from this place?"
"Twenty minutes in slow traffic, Beale. Perhaps faster if they will breake some traffic rules. Do call Hanna and urge him to go there. Once you've done this, see to it you delete this video feed from the web. And agent Jones? Please try and get detective Deeks or Harley on the phone. They may or not be at the very same spot. Tell them to make a plan to get agent Callen away from there, safe and as soon as possible."
Both of them had missed Mosley entering Ops, and they were unaware how long she'd been watching their work, if she had.
"Ma'am. He… did you know or suspect he was taken? Will he be —" Eric didn't want to think any further nor express his fears right now.
All Mosley could do was shake her head. "Beale, there is no way I know or I knew what's going on. But this sure looks bad and we got to hurry right now. Let's hope we are in time."
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Fernwood Avenue || Los Angeles
A short shiver went through his body and he breathed out as slowly as possible. It didn't take away the fuzziness. Blinking his eyes didn't help and he kept them closed.
"Feeling bad, son?"
Callen didn't want to hear the man speak. Didn't want to be here either.
"Three quarters of an hour. You're doing fine, just fine. And there are 22 viewers now. You may want to face them."
Callen sighed and softly hummed a 'no'.
"It is a yes."
A phone buzzed twice and the man turned away again, lifting the hood to read an incoming message. He cursed aloud. He put the phone down with a loud clung and cursed again. Then Callen heard the hum of the wheelchair and started to breath faster, afraid of what might happen. Then, from the metal tray, the man took another steel utensil.
"We might need to... let's say, to accelerate all this, since someone is hacking into this system of mine. It is a shame. Working with you was a pleasure."
Callen opened his eyes briefly, and closed them again. "No..." It came out so weakly and he wished he'd black out before this happened indeed.
The long pike was sharp. He hardly felt how it pierced his skin - nor the tissue underneath it. Then there was an intense sharp pain when the torturer turned it slightly around before he pulled it away again.
And while Callen gasped before he cried out too loud, he felt how the air was sucked in too deep and he recognized how his lung was punctured right like that. Callen wanted to cough it away, but it didn't work. Bleeding out or fighting for the ever so necessary bit of breath – somehow, it was what was going to kill him in here.
"You're not going anywhere now, are you?"
It was confusing. His limbs were trying to move in a natural way until the straps kept them in an unnatural place and for the briefest of thoughts it reminded Callen of Jesus Christ in nearly the same position and who was also being watched as he died.
He breathed in carefully and murmured "...hunt you." Not him. Team. Again, he coughed. Blood. He needed air. More. Spots blocked his vision. Blinked. Ringing sound in head. Closed eyes. For while. Or—
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Fernwood Avenue || Los Angeles || Fifteen minutes later
"G!"
Could it be they were too late? In the dim light Sam didn't see any movement. Just... too much blood.
"Deeks?!" He hoped his co-worker had the guts to see if...
Instead, Hidoko stepped forward and looked up at his friend. Impossible to reach up to check for a heartbeat in the neck, she put her fingers resolutely on Callen's anterior thigh. In what appeared minutes later she nearly whispered "Alive. But his pulse is very weak. Fast too."
"Get him down from there, Deeks," Kensi said, glancing at Sam who still stood, for once not knowing where to start or what to do.
Deeks nodded and took a knife from the tray he saw behind Callen and he started to cut the straps until Hidoko practically shouted to stop as she motioned. "Watch it, it'll tear off his skin... and more. We need to get this... this thing down."
Kensi nodded "And get the blood flowing the other way, to reach his brains, heart."
From the outside world, there were sirens and sounds of a helicopter too. Help was on its way, definitely because of their own team's work. But right now, the four of them were the only ones to work as fast as possible.
Seeing Callen like this sickened Kensi. Not the strong, sturdy agent, not the big brother to her, Sam's partner, brother and best friend. Not the friend who liked to tease Deeks. Instead, they found a very weak and vulnerable, badly tortured man. Someone they were almost losing.
Seconds later, LAPD officers and a medical team entered the room, rushing in to assist and matters of minutes later, a gurney was readied to carry Callen into a medi-copter.
"Go with him, Sam." Kensi said. She laid her hand on Sam's arm and nearly begged him. "Get him to a safe place."
Sam wiped his nose and nodded. "This... shouldn't have happened." His shoulders slumped as he followed the medical team, not noticing the remaining three team members who now stood, unable to do something. As the chopper left, policemen started to place the yellow tapes, telling everyone this was a crime scene.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Marina del Rey Hospital || February 7, 2018
He blinked several times and shivered again, feeling like he was freezing. He wanted to ask for something warm and gasped in panic when he remembered the feeling of being unable to breath in.
"Callen… it's going to be okay. You're safe in here."
Deeks' voice, and from the other side Kensi spoke "Try to relax, I'll call someone to help you with this."
Unable to move. Breathe. Unable to talk. Cold. Safe. Pain.
He closed his eyes again and drifted back into the dark.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Only some rooms from where Callen was, Sam sat next to Hetty's bed, glad to see her in a more upright position and alert as she should be. Despite the fact that her doctor had told him that she might suffer from the side of Agent Orange in the near future, this was the Hetty they all needed to get back to their office.
"It's good to have you back, Hetty," he smiled.
She stared at him just a short moment, closed her eyes briefly. Then she opened them again, and asked "How bad this time, Sam?"
He opened his mouth but the answer he was wanting to give her never came out. "How'd you know?"
"It's on your face. In your eyes, in your stance. How much I'd like to think you were worrying about my condition, there's something that tells me there's more. Besides, he would have been in here, not you."
Sam nodded. "He… Callen will be alright Hetty. It is just — we need you back Hetty. I don't know what to think about her any longer," he sighed. "She… just keeps pushing him in some direction. Like she keeps testing him. Wants him off of the team, perhaps."
"There now, Mr. Hanna. Now you are dealing with some insecurities when it comes to your team. Instead, I was asking about your partner." Her small and old hand reached for the remote control of her bed and she managed to raise the bed even more. Then she moved only a bit and let her feet dangle over the edge of the bed before she moved the cover away. Dressed in a decent dark blue jogging suit, she stood up and looked up at him, a none-spoken question on her face and Sam understood.
His strong arm supported her while they walked to the room where Callen was.
"They removed the respirator only moments ago," Kensi whispered when she heard Sam coming in.
"So I gather Mr. Callen still needs aid with breathing in?"
"Hetty!" Kensi looked up in surprise.
"Yes dear." She gladly sank down on the chair Kensi got up from and let her gaze go over the man in the bed. Far too pale. So still. "What happened?"
They heard someone coming their way, heels clacking on the linoleum floor. "He's on morphine again, agent Blye?"
Kensi just nodded.
Mosley heaved a deep sigh.
"Not what you wanted, right, boss?" Deeks dared to ask.
The other woman tilted her head just slightly. "Detective Deeks… please tell me you don't mean anything with that question? It's just — I never wanted anything to happen to him. I'm not that kind of a monster, you know. All I hoped he wasn't suffering from any pain right now. Did it occur to you I have anything to do with what happened?"
Deeks shrugged and he confessed "I wasn't that sure. Just wanted to hear it from you. You haven't been that nice to Callen in the past few months and somehow it felt you would gladly get rid of him from our team." His blue eyes, usually sparkling, were serious now and she noticed he was meaning what he said.
"Indeed, your team is constantly trying how far they can go. I guess I wanted to test how you work. How to find all the strong points in the team, see if there any weaknesses and if any of you still function as a team even if you have to work differently."
She let her gaze go over the four people who were around the bed of the man who had accompanied her to a simple meeting. She shook her head and continued. "He tends to go lone wolf. Not this time. He wasn't willing to join me in this case, wanted to stay around with you, Hetty. Yet I more or less ordered him to come. He was just as sharp as usual, never tested me this time, but ran straight into the lion's den, all because of me."
"Executive Director Mosley, Ma'am…" Hetty interrupted. "All I wanted to know is what happened and how our boy is doing. So, is there anyone in here who cares to explain?"
Sam nodded. "He was tortured badly, exactly how other victims were. Callen was lucky that Eric and Nell found out just in time that there was a link between what we were working on and the people he was assigned to look for when he joined you," he addressed Mosley. "He's lost lots of blood. Deliberately caused by someone we still are looking for. A punctured lung, also slowly and deliberately caused by a sharp kind of pike. Hemorrhagic shock. Severe burns."
He didn't tell it all. How he had felt nauseous and refused to watch the video Eric had managed to save from the camera, with the full session, which was more, much more than the public had seen.
How Eric traced many IP addresses and how the feed was removed from each and every receiving item, but how even the wonder twins hadn't been able to find out exactly who those receivers were. How frustrating it was that they had never found the hooded man in the wheelchair. How the ATF people Mosley had asked Callen to observe, were found dead within two hours after they saved Callen.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Ops Center || one month later
The red laptop was on the desk next to Kensi's. So was an empty mug. Sam touched it — still warm enough. He grinned. Of course his partner was far too stubborn to ask for a ride to the office.
Sam dropped his go-bag and went to where he supposed Callen was. It wasn't hard to figure it out and from a distance he watched how bullet after bullet was shot and hit the target until a whole magazine was empty. The grim expression on his friend's face wasn't what Sam hoped to see. Too stiffly Callen put down the gun and took off the goggles and the headset.
"You like what you see, big guy?" Callen said.
Sam chuckled as he came closer. "You've been practicing with Hetty, G?" Then, more seriously he said "Good to have you back, bro."
Callen rolled his shoulders back. A loose button-down shirt covered his upper body, but Sam knew just as well how there were still bandages beneath the shirt, treating the nasty wounds which would bother him for quite a bit of time to come.
"Desk-jockeying Sam. That's about it for the next few months I guess."
Serious now, Sam looked up at his friend. "We'll find him, G. Somehow, we'll find him, this monster."
"That's not why. Not what I meant Sam. These wounds… We're not sure how… if they will heal properly. And I'm not afraid of this guy. Not anymore." His clear blue eyes were sincere.
"Remember this, buddy. 'He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster.'"
*Friedrich Nietzsche
Thanks for reading. I sure hope we all enjoy episode 9.17!