Title: Trance.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of DM. I do own the ones that I created.

Rating: T for violence in later chapters.

Summary: An old adversary plots the perfect murder.

Author's notes: Sorry for the delay in updating – I can only blame work, I'm afraid! Doctor Gavin Reed appeared in the Season Four episode "Delusions of Murder" (spoilers). Also references to "Alienated". Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for the reviews so far.

TRANCE.

Part Four.

Jesse tried valiantly to get his legs under him as he was ruthlessly dragged along by the agonising grip on his hair. Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks, blinding him as effectively as the darkness had before. He couldn't even begin to try and make out his surroundings – but he was horribly aware of the silence that enshrouded them. He could hear his captor breathing, could hear his own laboured attempts to draw breath – but there was nothing else; nothing to indicate that there was anyone else close by.

He managed to get one foot underneath him and then the other – and was rewarded with a slight lessening of the pain. He fully expected for the brutal grip to be released – after all, hadn't his captor said something about cooperating? But that didn't happen. The big man didn't even alter his pace and so Jesse was forced to continue his stumbling progress bent half over and still, effectively, being dragged. He couldn't even put up a fight – could only allow himself to be led.

His thoughts were still a jumbled blur. He still hadn't figured out who this man was, or why he had been taken. The only thing he did know, with crystal clarity, was that the man was enjoying his pain, was feeding off his fear. And he had known that from the moment he had first looked up into his merciless eyes.

The man was a psychopath and a sadist. The thought set Jesse trembling again. Was he destined to die that night? Was he going to be tortured and murdered by some conscienceless serial killer – just so he could get his kicks? Would his friends ever know what had become of him? Was his death really going to be so meaningless?

Panic followed swiftly on the heels of those thoughts and his trembling became uncontrollable. His legs suddenly refused to carry him another step and he pitched forwards. The motion must have startled his captor, because Jesse was allowed to fall and a muffled cry escaped him when he connected with the ground.

But even this illusion of freedom was painfully brief as a rough hand grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him upright.

"Will you get a move on?" his captor snarled, giving him another jerk for emphasis. "There's somebody here who's very eager to meet you."

A door opened and carpeting replaced the concrete that he had been stumbling along. Moments later, Jesse was flung brutally to the ground. He heard a startled voice exclaim: "What the hell..?" and dared himself to hope – for the briefest second – that he might have an ally in this room.

Then his kidnapper spoke: "No drugs, no head injury and no concussion." He sounded almost proud of himself.

Jesse's hopes were swiftly dashed when he heard a soft, malicious chuckle and the voice that had sounded alarmed spoke again: "I like your style."

"Get him up here," a new voice said – this one was cold and dispassionate and sent a fresh shiver running down Jesse's spine. "Let's get this started."

Again, Jesse was grabbed and again he was powerless to do anything about it. As he was hauled to his feet, he got his first look at the other two men. Both were older than his abductor and one, a distinguished looking tall blonde man, looked vaguely familiar to him. But it was not towards him that he was pushed.

Jesse didn't even have time to try and figure out that familiarity as his eyes alighted on the second man – shorter and plumper and unmistakably Oriental. But what held him transfixed was the hypodermic needle in his hand.

As the man tapped the side of the syringe and then gave the plunger an experimental squeeze to ensure there was no air trapped in it, Jesse shook his head. But that was the only resistance that he could offer as he was given another shove forwards.

"Well, Doctor Travis, I'd like to tell you that this won't hurt a bit," the Oriental man said. "Unfortunately, our research has shown that it does."

There was a desk in front of him and Jesse was forced face down onto it. Rough hands pushed the sleeve of his jacket and shirt upwards, exposing his arm. Then he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the sudden sharp stab of the needle.

It felt as though liquid fire was running through his veins. All he knew was the agony that seemed to encompass every part of him. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but still the tears flowed down his cheeks and he struggled to breathe through the gag, all the while wondering why he bothered when all he knew was pain.

Time ceased to have any meaning for him as he fought ineffectually against his bonds, thrashing weakly against the hands that still held him as he sought to escape the inescapable.

He felt the gag ripped cruelly from his mouth and snatched a breath, opening his mouth to scream – but all that emerged was a strangled moan.

After what felt like an eternity, when all that was left were his silent prayers for it to stop – please stop – the agony receded. His breathing slowed but his heart was still racing at what felt like twice its normal speed. But the agony was definitely abating until all that was left was an aching in his wrists where he'd struggled and a fierce pounding in his head.

He was completely sapped of all strength and couldn't resist – couldn't put up even a token protest when he was manhandled across the room and forced down onto a hard-backed chair. Through eyes that still watered, he looked up – dreading what they had in store for him next and wondering how much more he could take.

The blonde man – the one he thought he had recognised – glared down at him and then settled into a chair opposite him and looked deeply into his eyes.

Liddell watched the proceedings with undisguised amusement on his face. Their captive was sitting slumped in his chair with his eyes half closed and a blank expression on his face. There had been no hint of resistance when 'Hendrickson' had started working on him – thanks to the drug, he presumed.

That had been an entertaining episode. He had kept Travis subdued merely by planting one large hand on his shoulders and pinning him to the desk as he writhed and struggled against his obvious agony. Then Yoshimoto had curtly ordered him to remove the gag before their guinea pig suffocated. Smiling, Liddell had complied, ripping the tape from the bound man's mouth and seeing fresh pain flash across his features. Then he had continued to watch as the struggles ceased and the young man was left trembling and sweating and gasping for breath. He had been compliant ever since.

Liddell had felt a brief flash of disappointment when the fear and pain had faded from the captive's eyes, but that was quickly replaced by fascination as he watched the hypnotism progress. It opened up whole new realms in his twisted mind. Travis was completely under, absorbing everything that he was told and he would, Liddell knew, do whatever he was instructed. He shifted slightly on the desk on which he perched and idly wondered if it was only Hendrickson's voice that he would respond to.

The doctor was telling his subject that he would remember nothing of the night's events – that he would return home and go to sleep and awaken in the morning believing that he had spent the entire night in his bed. Liddell chuckled to himself as he mentally explored the possibility of selective memories. Let him remember the pain; let him remember the terror – a terror so deep that it could not stem from any nightmare. Then watch him slowly lose his mind as he wondered where these feelings came from. Then bring him back and hurt him some more and only ever let him remember the pain.

Suddenly, Liddell felt eyes on him and he glanced up to see Hendrickson staring at him with the strangest expression on his face. Realising that he had laughed out loud, he gave a small shrug.

"Just considering the possibilities, Doc," he said, with a smile. "Just considering the possibilities… Say, is there nothing that you can't make him do? Nothing at all?"

"Not with the aid of Mr Yoshimoto's drug," Hendrickson replied. "There are no limits, nothing that the conscience or the subconscious would prevent. Why? Did you have something in mind?"

"Just wondering what's gonna happen afterwards."

"Afterwards?"

"Yeah. You make him kill for you. Then what happens to him?"

"Who cares?" Hendrickson countered. "This is just a demonstration; a chance to show the world that we mean business and that we can do what we claimed."

"Well, you see – I think you're missing out on an angle here," Liddell drawled, warming to the thoughts that had previously occupied his mind. "Cos you see, in truth you've got two victims here. You've got the dead guy and the murderer. Now, you could tell him to shoot Sloan and then turn the gun on himself. Or you could tell him to go to the police and make a full confession. Or to leave enough clues to make sure that he's caught. Think about it. Your clients might get more of a kick seeing their enemy spend a lifetime in prison – reviled and discredited – than see them dead." His eyes shining, he leant forwards. "Imagine, for the right price you could have your most hated enemy serving time as a child molester or something. Now that's what I call revenge."

"Mr Liddell, you really are one sick and twisted individual," Hendrickson said, but there was unmistakable admiration in his voice. "You are also a genius. The possibilities are endless."

"We need to prove that it works first," Yoshimoto cut in. "Everything hinges on the success of this demonstration – and we are wasting time."

Liddell glanced back towards their captive and noticed that his eyes were closed and his chin was resting on his chest. He guessed that the hypnosis was over.

"So is that it?" he asked. "When he wakes up, is he gonna be the perfect killing machine?"

"Rome wasn't built in a day, Mr Liddell," Hendrickson answered, his own eyes resting on their test subject. "No, we'll need Doctor Travis returned to us tomorrow night and, quite probably, the night after that as well."

Liddell didn't bother to terrorise Jesse when he was instructed to return their captive to his apartment. There would have been no fun in it, as the young man was still held in thrall – his eyes open, but docilely doing everything he was instructed. Liddell had cut the tape from his wrists, noticing that the skin was reddened following his struggle, but the damage was not enough to rouse any suspicion and would probably fade by the morning. And, instead of being forced into the trunk, he sat obediently in the front seat of Liddell's car, but that didn't mean that the thug had no entertainment during the drive.

He was thinking about hypnotism – about the absolute control that was wielded over the victim. And he was wondering how it would feel to exercise such control. There was no limit to the fun that could be had with someone over whom you could wield such complete power. A sadist at heart, his imagination ran riot as he thought of what that fun would entail. You could humiliate and hurt them in so many ways.

Liddell had even tried to see if Jesse was still under the influence enough to respond to his voice. He even tried faking Hendrickson's accent, but nothing that he said elicited any response from the younger man. He probably wouldn't react to anything at all until he had slept and then awoken – as he had been instructed.

But even that didn't wipe the smile from Liddell's face. He had a very fertile imagination and was sure that there was plenty more fun to be had with this victim before the night was over. With a sidelong glance at Jesse, he idly wondered whether Hendrickson had ever abused his abilities in such a way. He carried the title of Doctor, so that suggested that he would have had patients. He had also changed his identity somewhere along the way.

That would suggest previous misdemeanours – and it didn't take a genius to figure out just what he might have done when his patients, particularly the female ones, were yielding and compliant.

Liddell curled his lip in disgust. Some people had no moral values at all. He might be a lot of things – might take pleasure from a little torture – but he would never stoop to rape.

They arrived back at Jesse's apartment block and Liddell drew the car to a halt. Getting out, he moved to the passenger side and pulled the younger man out onto the sidewalk. Then, keeping a firm grip on his arm, he walked him up the stairs and guided him into his apartment.

TBC…