A/N: *WARNING* This chapter gets a little dark. Now the whole thing that Jim does...I got this idea from a very good movie...do any of you know the movie? It's VERY commonly known by kids and adults.

Thank you everyone who has reviewed and kept me moving along on this story!

A group of soldiers ran past the alley where Kev and B.A. were crouching in the shadows. As soon as they had passed the two men darted out and down the sidewalk. They were going to the small wooded area on the outskirts of the city where Hannibal and Face currently were. After a few blocks and four more ducking into alleys and behind vehicles, they came crashing into the shelter of trees.

Face was laying on his side, using his arm as a pillow. Hannibal was crossed-legged beside him, multiple sheets of paper in front of him. "There's groups all over the city." Kev informed him as they took a seat.

"I'm not surprised." Muttered Hannibal, chewing on a new cigar. B.A. turned his eyes on Face. "How is he?"

Face gasped a little, whiping sweat from his forehead. He looked to Hannibal, too weak to speak. "Not so good," Hannibal whispered, his face growing more worried. "But we can't get back to that hospital. Not now."

They were silent, trying to think of how to help the man when Kev spoke up first, "They can't take him to prison right away in this state. I can take him in, see to it that he gets medical attention and they will take him to where Murdock is. That will be our chance to follow, since we have no clue where Murdock even is..."

B.A. raised an eyebrow and Hannibal nodded in approval. "Smart kid. Let's do it."

When Kev stumbled into the lobby of the headquarters with the injured and half-conscious Face, he was immediately surrounded by officials and reporters.

"Where did you find Lt. Peck?"

"What are the plans now?"

"Is he going to be taken to where Captain Murdock is currently being held?"

"What happened to him? What did you do?"

Kev ignored them all, shoving through with his free arm and shouting out to the head man, "He was in a wreck. Baracus and Smith escaped, but Peck's badly injured. He needs medical attention now!"

Some women came to take Face away from Kev, who tried to followed. A few officials held him back. "Whoa, kid. Go back to your department, we can take it form here."

"No I need to make sure he's getting the medical attention he needs-"

He was pulled back roughly. "Peck will be getting all he needs...and deserves. Move along."

A wall of people had formed and Kev huffed, annoyed. He turned to leave, covering his face when cameras snapped at him and once he got outside the extremely crowded building, he took off.

There was fuzzy bright lights, needles stuck in his arms, cold hands wrapping him up in gauzes and bandages. Face's eyes had trouble adjusting and when they eventually did, he jerked in surprise.

All around him were males and females dressed in the coats of Doctors and Nurses, face masks covering the lower half of their faces. They noticed him staring around with wide, wary eyes and one of the nurses put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, you're fine." Face knew that voice. His eyes searched the top half of her face and when he saw her sharp eyes, something clicked.

"S-Sosa? Charissa...Sosa?" His voice sounded awful to his own ears. She gave him a crisp nod, moving away from the bed and grabbing a long needle on the tray beside the bed.

He watched with growing anxiousness as she flicked it twice and started back to him. "Where's...where's Murdock?" He slurred, trying to scoot away but gloved hands kept him in place. "What're you doing with that?"

She never answered his questions, leaning in and positioning the needle. Face felt it break through his skin and tried to jerk away unsuccessfully. He felt the pinch and the liquid being shoved into his arm.

The world around him behind spinning, disfiguring, colors and faces blending together. He tried to blink his vision clear, suddenly understanding why Murdock hated the mental hospitals so. The spinning feeling made his stomach churn uneasily and he felt the vile rising in his throat.

"Someone get him a bucket." That was Sosa's voice in the whole mess. Face was rolled onto his side, a bucket shoved under his head. He wanted to tell them to get the bucket out of his face when his mouth opened and he was violently sick.

As soon as he had finished, they rolled him back onto his back and someone was checking his pulse. "He's not going under." One Doctor noted. Another assured him, "Give it a little more time. It'll happen."

And he was right, for the colors began fading and the faces disappeared. Face felt his eyelids lowering and fought desperately to keep them open. He did not succeed and succumbed to the sleep.

"Now what do we do?" A nurse wanted to know as they all gathered around the bed. Charissa Sosa lowered her face mask. "Give him another hour and move him. He should be fine by then."

And so after the hour was up, Face was moved to an armored van and locked in. Watching in the distance was the two remaining team members, Kev, and a tied and gagged James. "Follow them, B.A., but be discreet." Hannibal told him.

They were in a 'borrowed' BMW, Hannibal and B.A. up front while the other two were in back. B.A. took the car down the street and pulled into side street. Once they were down the road, the armored van rambled by, followed by a convoy of SWATs and sleek black limos. The BMW turned out to trail the convoy and Hannibal leaned back for the ride.

The room was kept at an ungodly cold temperature, the walls were solid metal along with the floor. Murdock was at one end of the table (Also metal), Jim Brown at the other. Two strong guards by the names of Canse and Dole were stationed behind Murdock, guns set on their hips. Murdock's hands rested on the reflective table top, cuffed together. Father and son only glared across the table at each other, Murdock looking smug.

Finally, the Captain broke the tense silence. "So. What made you despise me so badly...when I was only an innocent little baby?"

Jim shook his had real slowly. "We were not ready. We needed more time, I told her to put you up for adoption as soon as you were born. She wanted to keep you, God only knows why..."

"I shouldn't care too much," Murdock shrugged. "After all, a year after you left, mom got remarried. Leon McCalls, a northerner but had a southern hitch to him." Murdock's mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown, his forehead creasing. " 'Course four years later, mom goes and dies-"

"Don't you ever mention her death like that!" Jim roared, on his feet in seconds and pointing accusingly at Murdock, who immediately flinched back. "All I said was-" Jim was around the table and grabbing Murdock's shirt collar in record time and he pulled his son up centimeters from his face.

"I know what you said," He snarled. "And you will never speak about Emma's death like that ever again. Do you understand me?"

The pilot narrowed his eyes. "You think I enjoy talking about it?"

Jim released him, glaring down his nose at Murdock. "Do you know how Leon died?"

Murdock fixed his eyes on Jim, shaking his head tediously. "You'll be surprised." Jim turned his back, gradually going back around to his end of the table.

"Enlighten me."

Jim chuckled, the corners of his mouth going up in an evil smirk. And Murdock's eyes grew and he gasped. "Y-you...you killed him...didn't you?"'

"James. If you only knew," He cocked an eyebrow and the door opened, Lynch letting himself in and closing the metal door behind him. "Ah, here's the party. I've got a message for this troublemaker." He announced, clapping his hands together before pacing to the table.

As he got to Murdock, he reached out and grabbed the back of Murdock's hair and shoved his face downwards. The loud sound of skull hitting metal echoed throughout the room and Lynch snickered, pulling Murdock's head back up. His forehead already had a dark purple bruise forming.

"Ah," Murdock muttered. "Never start with the head, the victim gets all fuzzy." He rubbed his forehead, wincing at the pain.

Lynch otherwise ignored him, spreading his hands out on the table and leaning in. "We've got your pretty boy teammate. Peck. Yep, he's in a van on the way here."

They watched Murdock as he recovered and a confused look worked its way across his features. "You got Face? Well, honestly, if that's the best you can do...then good for you." When they started to speak, Murdock charged ahead. "I mean, me and Face are easy to catch. Heaven forbid you eva catch B.A., that'll never happen. And Hannibal, he'll slip through your fingers, standin' down the road with a cigar in his mouth an' grinnin' like the Cheshire cat." His southern accent was making itself more known, meaning the pilot was growing both worried and excited.

"So why haven't you been caught up till now?" Lynch demanded to know.

Murdock shrugged. "Been doin' the tango with Lady Luck. But I guess she wanted a new partner, so she let me fall. Tripped right over my own feet and landed in the hands of the CIA."

Jim folded his arms across his chest. "Are you aware how much you and your boys have messed up this world. We forget about other countries posing serious threats because we're too busy trying to catch you four."

The Captain grinned. "And that makes me larger than life. Everyone knows who we are." He leaned back, smirking. Jim came back around the table and pulled the chair back, yanking Murdock to his feet and standing him in front of him and Lynch. "Where are they?"

"Who?"

"You team, idiot!" Lynch snapped. "Where is your team?"

The look of confusion came back to Murdock's bruised face. He chewed on his cheek for a moment then replied, "Well, you got Face and I. And we give the team spice, so without us, I guess it doesn't matter if Hannibal and Bosco are out there. 'Cause they won't be very threatening without the two of us." He blew out some air. "So hey! Good job, props to you guys."

Lynch rolled his eyes and Jim's mouth hardened into a straight line. "Not a good answer."

"Really?" Murdock's shoulder slumped. "Well poo. Thought I was going the right direction. I guess I suck at answering truthfully, though I can't lie either. So...you would be better off believing me."

Lynch's eyebrows mashed together. "What?"

"Alright, let's get some punishment going here," Jim turned to the two guards and nodded once. As they were leaving, Murdock's face fell. "What do you mean...punishment?"

"You'll see." Jim muttered, watching the door and when Canse and Dole returned, he smiled a tiny smile. Dole was holding a pocket knife. Canse a taser. "No, no!" Murdock backed into the table, shaking his head roughly. "That's not necessary, oh God, please no!"

And then he was bent back onto the table, pulled until he was laying completely on his back on the cold table and Lynch grabbed his right arm, shoving his sleeve up to his elbow. Murdock had no idea what was going to happen next, he struggled and tried to jerk his arm free, but these men were much stronger than they appeared. But when Jim flipped the blade out, Murdock's eyes went huge in horror and he gasped.

"Tell me." Jim said calmly, holding the knife like a pencil. When Murdock shook his head, the men ducked his head and brought the blade to Murdock's skin, cutting a figure. Murdock bit his lip against the deep pain, jerking but getting nowhere. But then the blade was out of his skin and Murdock's eyes darted down to see what had happened. In the underside of his arm, about two and a half inches from his wrist, was the letter R.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He ground out through clenched teeth. No one answered him, Lynch asked again, "Where are they?"

"I told you, I don't know- AHH!" The scream escaped his lips as his father put in another letter, this one seeming deeper. He felt blood form both letters running down his arm onto the table. Tears gathered in his eyes as he tried to keep them from spilling out. "I don't know, I really don't!" He sobbed, kicking his legs as best as he could. "I sear to God, I have no idea!"

Another letter. "AAAAHHH!" the Captain's screams were louder, making Lynch flinch a little as he watched the older man work in a deep concentration. Murdock's left hand was in a super tight fist, banging down against the metal table almost as loud as his screams.

"Well?" Lynch raised his eyebrows, staring at Murdock. But he did not respond, his body shaking with the sobs that were escaping his lips.

The fourth letter. Lynch's stomach was doing a strange flip, threatening to send his lunch back up. He tilted his head down at the floor, wondering how the army had gotten this way.

"If you just tell me where your team is, I will stop right now." Jim tried one last time. Murdock's only reply was to momentarily free his left arm and give Jim the finger before that arm was restrained once again. "Suit yourself." And Jim went back to work, somehow blocking out his son's screams and jerking.

Lynch had completely turned around, his hand rubbing his forehead. Every time Murdock took in a breath, the screams got louder and the jerking got harder. It took Lynch a moment, but he realized the very loud banging sound was Murdock slamming his head back against the table. Lynch risked a tiny peek back and saw the stream of blood running down Murdock's arm, onto the table, and dripping to the floor around Jim's feet.

Many minutes afterward, the sound of metal clattering against metal made Lynch glanced over his shoulder to see that Jim was finally done. His eyes grew wider than he would have like anybody to notice as he came around to see the two words now etched in Murdock's bloody arm.

Forever Ruined.

"Jesus Christ." He ran a hand through his hair, breathing in a large amount of air. "Holy shit."

Detecting the shocked words, Murdock's half-lidded eyes sought out his arm and he felt another sob rack through his body. No matter how hard he tried, his fingers would not move. He knew it was only mental, but his whole arm felt disconnected somehow. Wrong.

"Take him back. I can't stand looking at this monster any longer." Jim ordered and he left the room without another word. Lynch met eyes with Canse and Dole, both their expressions equally as horrified. Murdock was hauled to his feet, cuffs forgotten, and drug back to his cell, still bleeding.

They threw him onto the bed, the Captain falling limply onto the hard mattress, his breathing shallow. And they locked the door.

A/N: So...know that movie?