Mac didn't even need one second to recall what happened as he came to.

Even though he was sure he opened his eyes, he couldn't see anything. Was it a hood? A blindfold? Mac couldn't feel anything like this on his skin, so he concluded there was no light around him.

He began to move. Almost immediately he noticed his hands being tied with zip ties behind his back, as well were his feet. He tried to move, but found himself not able to. To his shock his hands and feet were connected with another round of zip ties, so he neither could stretch out his legs nor pull up his arms to reach for something. Freeing himself now was almost impossible.

As he shifted on his side, he noticed his mouth being filled. Some kind of nasty cloth. Mac wanted to spit it out, but somehow he wasn't able to part his lips. Duct tape kept his mouth shut, so he couldn't drive the gag out.

He breathed heavily through his nose as he rolled on his back. Almost at the same time his bent knees connected to something. Mac began to pant. He was in a very enclosed space. Not much room to turn, not to talk about sitting up at all. So he could do nothing than let himself roll back to the side once again.

Suddenly he was pushed forward. His body crashed into the sidewall of wherever he was lying in, sending a little wave of pain through him. As he still felt numb because of the drug, he couldn't really recall if he actually hurt himself or not.

While he collected his senses, he heard the sound of engines and recognized a slight vibration. So he was in a car. And because of the small space and dark room he was almost a 100% sure he was stuck in a trunk, transported wherever to.

In his somewhat hazy state Mac felt a slight panic rise. He moaned as he tried to move once again, but the resulting pull on his limbs made him stop. So how was he supposed to draw any attention on him in the truck if he wasn't able to shout or to damage any backlight?

Wait – the car!

Mac remembered the fancy car that would stick out everywhere. The expensive looking BMW, a model no normal citizen would drive. But was this man this stupid to transport him in such a showy way?

Mac could do nothing else than hope for it. His only chance was to trash around and hope for some bystanders to notice his sounds while stopping at a traffic light.

Some knocking drew his attention.

"Please, Macgyver, don't make it any more difficult for you, or we are going to have a little problem."

Mac stopped immediately. So his kidnappers had noticed he was awake now. Mac started shouting at them, but every word he tried to form was nothing more than an incomprehensible raw sound.

"We are almost there, just wait a little longer", was the answer he was getting, but Mac decided to draw any attention at him. If he just was loud enough, maybe his kidnappers would stop the car. And even as he couldn't escape from the trunk with his legs tied like this, the men would have to open the trunk and knock him out once again. And just this action would definitely stand out more than enough to cause someone to call the police. Or at least get Riley a trace.

To his surprise the car actually came to a stop.

"Silence him", was the simple command.

Even though Mac's heart began to pound even more, he got what he wanted. So he braced himself to use every second he could get to draw as much as attention as possible. But he couldn't suppress the rising panic just thinking about the fact of losing consciousness once again and lying vulnerable in the trunk being transported wherever to.

The lid opened and Mac was blended by sunlight at the exact moment.

Now or never!

Mac started trashing around, shouting from the top of his lungs even as his screams were muffled. But he couldn't do much as the chloroform soaked rag was pressed to his face with no mercy. Mac tried to kick out, only ending in ripping his arms down in a very painful way. This caused him to draw in some sickly sweet smelling air and almost immediately he could feel the effect of the drug.

It didn't take long for him to slip out of consciousness.

His last thoughts were that he hopefully made enough of a ruckus. Because his last thought to cross his mind was the folder. The folder with the information about the target person. The person whose photo was right on top.

It was a photo of a young man, late twenties, laughing, wine glass in one hand. Blond hair. Blue eyes.

Baby blue eyes.

Him.

Jack knew something was so wrong.

As instructed he had pulled the Indian man into his van. Now he was heading straight to Phoenix. He had the urge to turn right back. Even though he knew he could do nothing to find Mac, he wanted nothing more than to follow his buddy. To be his back up.

"Guys, I don't like this at all", Jack growled grimly. He grew more and more nervous with every second Mac was on his own.

He knew Mac wasn't found of this mission to begin with. He remembered last time when Mac was having so much trouble to "change" into Murdoc. To act like him. To feel like him. To think like him. The way Murdoc tried to play with his mind, to draw him in in some kind of psychological game. Jack hated it. He hated it a lot.

But last time Mac wanted to do it. He wanted to do it for the mission. This time he knew it was different. His kid was different.

And now his kid was on his own.

No, Jack definitely didn't like it. Jack hated it. He hated it a lot.

"What the - !"

Jack sat up. "Riley, what's up?"

"The photo you sent me", Riley stated. Right, Jack had sent her a photo of the Indian man, so Riley could run a facial recognition on him. Maybe that could bring out any leads to the man on the phone. Mac's client.

"You got something?" Jack was on the edge.

"Yes", Riley started, "And I think this is all much bigger than we thought."

"What is it?", Jack heard Matty asked.

"Our own cameras reacted to him", Riley said, definitely sounding grim, "Guys, this man was here in Phoenix."

Jack felt his skin colour leave. Oh no, this was so not to his liking. Jack hated it. He hated it a lot.

"And not only that", Riley continued, "He was in Bozer's lab."

Jack's breathe stuck. Oh, he had a feeling where this conversation was going. And he didn't had to wait long for the verification. The verification of his darkest thoughts.

"And he was on the locker – the locker with the cellphone."