The team assembled in the command center to review the op and listen to the conversations of their prisoners in the cage. The fourteen men they'd rescued had been made as comfortable as possible. Most of them were sitting on the floor but a couple paced in the confined space. Not a single one of them had said a word since they'd stepped on the plane. One of them had the audacity to cough and quickly found himself on the receiving end of pointed kick to the shin and a nasty glare from Salib.

The proclaimed leader of the group glared directly at the closed circuit camera and growled, "You could at least have the courtesy to provide us with some water to quench our thirst."

Coulson and Marx sent Dodger and May down with bottles of water for the captives along with some granola bars Ward had picked up that everyone else had declared inedible. The group in the holding room gave them no problems, taking the offered items with politeness.

Skye watched the monitors of the cage intently for three reasons. She was trying to keep her mind off of her S.O.'s predicament, to hide her worry and because she felt like they were missing something with this group. Something wasn't gelling but she couldn't put her finger on it. She watched as the door opened, the water and snacks handed over, the door closed, one of the men distributed the items. Nothing out of the ordinary. Wait, what's going on?

"Coulson, check this out," she requested. She split the video screens, keeping a live feed on one, but backing up the other feed to just before the water was distributed.

"What is it Skye?" Coulson asked. "You see something."

"Yeah, something's strange here," Sky answered. "Watch what happens after the door closes."

Coulson watched the footage. "I don't see anything."

"I don't either," Marx added.

"Precisely. Even after requesting a drink, all of those guys pocket the granola and then they take exactly one swallow of the water before they cap the bottles and put them on the floor," Skye pointed out.

"Roll it again," Coulson directed Fitz so they could study the segment again. "Okay, this is weird." He turned to May who'd just returned to the comm. table. "How far out are we?"

May consulted her tablet. "We're about two hours out. We've been given priority."

"Okay," Coulson stated, "I want someone monitoring the footage continuously. Marx, what do you think about having two guarding the cage?"

Marx considered the question carefully, "I think it would be prudent. You're some men short. I'll send Dodger and Gray. I think we need to review the footage from the second those guys set foot on this plane."

"Good idea," Coulson agreed. "Skye, review the tapes. Look for more anomalies." Hitting his com, he called down to the lab, "Fitz, you and Bixby go back over the readings from the site. See if anything pops out."

Everyone had their tasks and for the next hour, that's all they concentrated on. Fitz and Bixby went over and over the readings, finding nothing different than the initial diagnostics. Skye roped Gray into helping her. They took up seats in the lounge area, a laptop a piece, going over all the footage frame by frame. May returned to the cockpit, concentrating on manually flying the fully automated plane. Coulson, Dodger, and Marx continued to monitor the live feed from the cage while Dixon and Manetti were dispatched to guard the door to the cage.

An hour out from their destination, all hell broke loose. One by one, the men in the cage started screaming. The noise was inhuman. The three agents watching the monitors stared as the entire group collapsed to the floor.

"Fitz!" Coulson yelled. "What's the stats on the holding room?"

"Stats from the room are normal, Sir," Fitz said. "Wait, we're not getting any life sign readings. It appears they're all dead, Sir."

"Dixon, Manetti, open that door with caution. See what the hell is going on," Marx ordered.

"No, wait," Bixby cautioned. "It could be biochemical. Something we don't know about. Let us do another reading before we open that door."

Fitz and Bixby scrambled to reconfirm their data. All readings were normal, yet not a single prisoner was alive.

"Fitz and Bixby, meet us at the cage. We'll do a on hands verification," Coulson stated. "Dixon and Manetti wait for our arrival."

The seven men converged outside the holding room door. "We'll clear the room first then I want Fitz and Bixby to make physical verification of the deaths. You agree, Marx?" Coulson questioned.

"Sounds good," Marx confirmed. "Open the door."

"Wait, put these on," Fitz demanded, handing out face masks to everyone. "The room may be hermetically sealed, but we shouldn't take chances. Don't touch anything unless you have gloves on."

Fitz reached out to turn the knob when the unmistakable sound of the locks engaging broke the momentary silence. "What the hell." He immediately stretched for the keypad, but May's voice on the coms stopped him.

"Don't go in the cage. It's a trap," her monotone deliverance giving them more than cause for worry.

"Would you like to fill in the civilians, May," Coulson requested.

"The Oracle called. Those men aren't dead, merely incapacitated," May informed them.

"Well then. Let's leave them to their beauty sleep. They can deal with them at the 'Fridge'," Coulson said, getting head inclinations of agreement from the others.

"There's one more thing," May said hesitantly.

"This should be good. What could top fourteen men faking their death," Fitz joked.

"Ward's missing," came May's reply.

By this time the group had started making their way back to the comfort of the lounge. Coulson stopped abruptly, causing Marx and Dodger to almost run him over. "What do you mean Ward's missing?"

"I'll meet you in the commons with the whole story," May declared.

"This had better be some type of joke," the senior agent muttered as he led the way back to the commons.