A/N: I want to take a moment and thank all of my readers. You guys are absolutely fabulous! When I first started writing this story last year, I wasn't sure how it would be received, but you guys have gleefully embraced it. For that I am eternally thankful.

I thought when the stay at home order came that I would get a lot of writing done while I was working from home. I was sadly wrong. I am still supporting my 500 fellow employees that are considered essential and continue to work full time as if none of this is happening. Not only that, but I am making homemade face masks for them in my spare time using my quilting stash. Plus, I am in the middle of selling the farm and moving. So much is happening, that I have had few chances to write. But never fear, I have 34 chapters written. They just need editing before posting, so it will be a while before I run out of material to post. The sad part is that I now know approximately how many chapters there are left in this story. I am in the middle of writing the climax to the story line, so I estimate that there are about 3 to 5 chapters left. All good things must come to an end, I guess.

Finally, a couple of you have pointed out an inconsistency in the story (Ann_Agapi I tried to reply to your kind comment but AO3 won't allow me to for some strange reason!). Maroney and Mahoney are the same character. He started out as Maroney, but for some reason I changed it to Mahoney at some point. I tried to go back and correct it, but I guess I failed. This was the second story that I wrote and I hadn't learned to write down all my character's names on a reference page. I know better now. I apologize for any confusion. Chalk it up to freshman stupidity! I will try to catch it from now on as I edit, but no guarantees!

I love all you guys! I hope all of you are staying safe out there and taking precautions to protect yourselves, your loved ones, and others around you! Here is an extra chapter this week for you.

Chapter 25

One would think that after dying in almost every way imaginable, she would have a high tolerance for pain, but right now, hanging from a metal rack attached to a generator, all she could think about was how much she was hurting. Just another one of the ironies of her long life, another cosmic 'fuck you'. Still, this guy was going to have to get a lot more creative if he wanted anything out of her.

She hung limply from her bonds, blood dripping down her chin from where she had bitten her tongue multiple times over the last hour or so. At least she thought it was an hour; she had no real way to tell the passage of time other than the breaks between her captor triggering the generator to release its voltage on her.

Speaking of her captor, he approached her and lifted her head by her hair to force her to look at his face.

"Had enough yet?" he asked her in a deceptively gentle voice. Everything he had done to her and said had been that way. He hadn't been rough with her even when she had kicked out at him and fought like a wild animal to get free. He had casually held another cloth over her mouth until she was unconscious then carried her in and strapped her to the rack. He hadn't raised his voice once while questioning her and had even offered her water during breaks between the torture sessions. It somehow made what he was putting her through even more horrific. Like being beaten by a sweet little old lady. Maybe he would offer her some cookies and milk at one point, she thought and giggled a little at the image.

He frowned at her reaction, not knowing it was from her private thoughts and not his question. It was the first emotion he had shown besides his mild concern and calmness. Maybe she was starting to get to him. If she did, he might make a mistake in her favor.

After failing to find Maroney at his usual bar or his apartment, Matt managed to track him down at the women's center with Mrs. Williams. Waiting outside in the alley, hidden in shadows, he listened as they sat in her car and argued over continuing to use the women's center as the source of the women they were abducting. The director thought it was too risky and if Nyah was able to put together the connection between it and the missing women, then it wouldn't be long before someone else did. Maroney assured her that he and his partner combined with the DA had that covered and she was protected. She was still skeptical of how protected she would be when and if it all came out.

"How do I know you guys won't use me as your scapegoat? You have all the power, I'm expendable," she pointed out.

"When it comes down to it, Cynthia, we are all expendable. The only one that is untouchable is the boss," he reasoned.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," she grumbled as she picked at her nails.

"Well, this should," he told her. "The boss wants us to lay low for a few weeks until we take care of the current problem."

She sighed in relief, "that's good to hear."

"So, you're good? No more panicking?" he asked her.

"No, I'm okay. I just needed some reassurances, that's all. Now, I have to go, my daughter is home by herself right now." She turned on the car and looked over at her passenger. "She has been taken care of this time, right?"

He nodded as he opened his door to get out of the car, "oh, yes. She won't be bothering us anymore."

Matt's stomach lurched at the statement and he resisted the urge to throttle the man right then and there. Instead, he waited as the director drove away and Maroney walked to his car. As he opened the door, Matt burst out of the alley and slammed his head into the top of the car. Unconscious, he slumped, and Matt let him fall to the ground, then he drug the detective into the alley to the back door of the women's center.

When Maroney came to, he was tied to a chair in an empty room in the back of the offices. Matt stood in front of him in his Devil of Hell's Kitchen suit, his arms crossed, appraising the dirty cop. Maroney struggled frantically at his restraints and almost topped himself over, until Matt stepped forward and punched him hard in the face. Blood spurted from his nose and he stopped struggling to glower at his attacker.

"What the fuck? Do you know who I am?" he sputtered indignantly.

"Detective Douglas M. Maroney," Matt said, walking around the chair. Maroney tried to follow his progress but gave up when Matt stopped directly behind him.

"So, you know how much trouble you're in, right?"

"Not as much trouble as you are in," Matt countered as he considered his next move. He had no problem with violence, but he needed to get what he needed fast.

"Where is the woman?" he asked Maroney.

"What woman?"

Instead of responding, he slapped the detective hard across his ear with his open hand.

"Fuck!" Maroney yelled.

"Wrong answer, Detective," he said as he circled to stand in front of the man again.

"Let's try this again," he growled. "Where is the woman?"

"I don't know who you're talking about."

Matt punched him in the face again. There was a sickening crunch as the detective's nose broke.

His howl of pain was cut off abruptly when Matt punched him in the stomach, twice, leaving him wheezing.

Matt circled behind him again to keep him on edge; making him wonder when and where the next attack would come.

"You are going to tell me one way or another," Matt ground out harshly, "it's just a matter of how much you want to hurt before you tell me."

"You're a fucking dead man," Maroney sputtered, trying to maintain his bravado. He was opened his mouth to say something else, but Matt grabbed his shoulder with both hands and yanked it backwards. There was a wet pop and the detective screamed in pain. It was loud and echoed through the office space. Matt found a discarded scarf in one of the offices to use as a gag

"That's one shoulder," He said.

"Fuck you!" Maroney yelled at him.

Maroney's scream was muffled by the scarf when his other shoulder popped out of its socket. Matt paced the floor behind him while he waited for the man to quiet down. He was feeling the pressure of time ticking by. The longer this took, the longer it would take him to get to Nyah. Even though he knew death for her was just a temporary inconvenience, the thought of her suffering was like a knife in his ribs and made it difficult for him to breath. Hence the brutality of his actions. He had never shied away from violence, even embraced it at times, but torturing someone like this was a whole new level of violence. Every time he was forced to go down this road, for whatever righteous reason, he was aware of the toll it took on his psyche. He worried that one day he would go too far and there would be no coming back. Tonight might be that night. But he was going to find Nyah, no matter the cost.

When he thought Maroney had enough time, he walked around in front of him and pulled the scarf free.

"Where is she?"

Maroney coughed out a hoarse laugh. "You're too late. She'll be dead by the time you reach her."

Matt's heart thudded so hard in his chest that he was sure the other man could hear it. He hoped Maroney was bluffing, but he sounded like he believed it. Regardless, Matt was going to call his bluff.

"Then there's no reason not to kill you right now," he said as he stalked around the bound and bleeding man. A service revolver was lying on the floor where he had discarded it earlier. He picked it up and chambered a round. He had always hated guns, but this one would aid in speeding things up a bit.

Placing the muzzle on the back of Maroney's head, he muttered just loud enough for the detective to hear, "I hope they have a good cleaning staff here."

"Wait!" Maroney pleaded.

"Why?" Matt sneered. "You said she was already dead."

"We need to know who she is working with, so he's supposed to question her first," his voice rose to a high whining pitch. "She might still be alive if you hurry!"

"Where?"

Maroney told him the address. It wasn't far but he was going to have to hurry if he was going to get there on time. Then there was the problem of what to do with the detective. He just couldn't leave him like this, nor could he let him go. For now, the trunk of his car would have to suffice. Matt would figure the rest out later when he had more time.

He quickly untied Maroney and pulled him up by his shirt. "Let's go!"

The detective didn't move fast, and Matt kept having to shove him to keep him going. Fortunately, with dislocated shoulders, the man wasn't putting up a fight. Matt propelled him out the door into the alley and towards his car.

He heard the other man almost too late to avoid the shot that blasted a chunk of brick off the side of the building too close to his head for comfort.

"Let him go and put your hands in the air!" Maroney's partner yelled from the mouth of the alley.

"Shoot this son of a bitch!" Maroney yelled and dodged to the side.

Matt grabbed him easily by the arm and yanked him back, making him scream in pain. If they could get close enough, Matt could use him as a distraction. Fortunately, Matt had planned to leave the gun in the car also, so he had it on him still.

Pulling Maroney close to him and pushing the unloaded gun into his ribs, he quietly told him, "if you want to live you better keep quiet and walk towards your partner."

To Maroney's partner he called, "I will shoot your partner if you don't put your gun down and back away."

"What makes you think I care?" the other detective yelled back.

Either by design or by accident, Maroney chose that moment to collapse, almost pulling Matt to the ground with him. He was only able to stay upright by releasing his grip on the man's arm and jumping agilely over him as he fell. Maroney's partner took that opportunity to fire off a shot at Matt while he was airborne and the impact of the bullet in his shoulder knocked him sideways into the building. Not giving him a chance to recover, the man charged down the alley, firing a second and a third time. Fortunately for Matt, the man could not run and aim accurately so both bullets struck the building harmlessly.

This gave Matt the short time he needed to react. Ignoring his bleeding shoulder, he grabbed a lid off a nearby trash can and flung it at the on coming man like a frisbee. It struck him as he fired again, deflecting his aim. He was close enough now that Matt could rush him, reaching him before he could bring the gun up for another shot. The pudgy cop was no match for Matt in close combat, even with an injured shoulder. A few well-placed punched and the man lay sprawled out on the ground at Matt's feet.

Now he had two cops to deal with and time was still ticking by swiftly. Matt grabbed the partner and hoisted him over his shoulder to carry to his car. Dropping him into the trunk of the car, Matt then removed the handcuffs from his belt and used them to secure his hands behind his back before shutting the trunk. Going back to Maroney, he noted of the smell of blood, and it wasn't all his. Squatting down by the still body of the detective, he felt for a pulse and couldn't find one. Further investigation revealed a bullet hole in his chest. He had been shot by his own partner; probably the shot deflected by the trash can lid. With a sigh, he lifted the body and deposited it in the trunk of the other car.

This completed, Matt checked his own wound. The bullet had only grazed his shoulder and it had mostly quit bleeding; all it needed was a bandage and he would be good. Pulling out his cell phone, he called Foggy.

Well, she had succeeded in pissing him off, but it didn't look like he was going to make a mistake; he was too much of a professional. Like a snake shedding its skin, he had dropped his gentle demeanor, allowing the true monster underneath to emerge. Blood dripped down her body from more than just her bitten tongue now and she was sure more than one of her ribs were broken. The angrier he got, the more creative he became. Right now, he was making a slight adjustment to the butane torch that he had just used.

However, despite the escalation of both his temper and his methods, he was still very much in control of his actions. None of the cuts were located near large arteries that could bleed her out in just a few minutes. None of the punctures were made into critical organs. And he knew just when to stop the burning before she passed out from the pain. He was good at what he did. Too good. She wasn't sure how much more she could take, and it worried her.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and his shoes came into her field of vision. The sound of the torch was disproportionately loud in her ears. No, wait, just her left ear. She started to lift her head and look when the smell of burnt hair assailed her nose, then the heat and pain on that side of her face. All thoughts fled as she screamed.