A harsh punch in his guts made Mac double over. Two lackeys in black suits and ties where beside him, one of them pushed him down on the ground. Mac tried to curl up, but he was pinned, his arm painfully pulled upwards behind his back. The man crouched down and put his knee on Mac's neck, pushing him even further on the ground. Mac tried to struggle, but he wasn't able to move an inch.
He felt his feet being gripped by the other man. He tried to kick out, but his moves weren't coordinated enough to actually hit someone. So he couldn't do much but shouting and wriggle as he felt his feet being tied with a new round of zip ties. Mac hissed in pain as the bit painfully into his already bloody skin. Before he could even react, his hands where tied behind his back with zip ties as well. But they weren't done yet. A long rope was wrapped around his upper body, keeping his arms on his side. Mac screamed.
He was yanked up from the floor. Because of his bound feet he couldn't find grounding and he wasn't surprised as he was lifted completely as he wasn't able to walk on his own. He wriggled in the mens' grip, but they were much stronger than him, they didn't let go.
As he fought he noticed a wooden table being placed in the middle of the room. Mac hadn't even recognized it had been there from the beginning. With a harsh swing he was flung on the table. The impact was hard and drove all the air out of his lungs. Mac groaned in pain. Even the wood moaned, but it wasn't doing him any favour of breaking beneath him.
The men shifted positions. The two guys that had lifted the table in position, grabbed his legs, the other two pushed him down on his shoulders. Mac's wriggles started anew, but with four men holding him down, he was in no position of freeing himself. Instead he was pushed upwards. With that his head wasn't connecting with he wooden table plate but was hanging freely over the edge. Mac pushed his head upwards, still struggling, but his efforts came to a halt as one of the men holding his shoulders gripped his neck and pushed downwards.
Mac cried out in pain as his head was bent backwards over the edge of the table. He closed his eyes, as he felt his neck snapping. He was breathing fast, sweat visible on his skin. His last struggle ebbed out, as the man's grip got much more fierce and even reached up to his chin. And with his head being bent this much, he couldn't even struggle. It just hurt too much.
I am on my own. They don't where I am.
Why am I doing this?
Mac felt panic rise inside him once again, as he opened his eyes. His head was bent so much everything was upside down. In combination with his previous experiences this day and his already existing dizziness he felt like vomiting. He breathed heavily through his mouth, still moaning and groaning. One last shake in his body, but fierce hands with strong grips pressed him painfully on the table.
"Are you done?"
Mac's eyes landed on the boss. With arms crossed over the man eyed him, one foot tipping aggressively on the ground to underline his impatience. He was massively annoyed.
"What are you doing?!", Mac breathed out heavily. He felt his body hyperventilating once again. His limbs began to tickle. But Mac was too afraid to close his eyes.
The man came over.
Mac swallowed.
The man crouched down in front of him.
Mac's heart stopped.
Why am I doing this?
"One last chance", the man said slowly. Mac's breath sped up once more, the fear was definitely visible in his eyes – and he wasn't even ashamed of it. He was truly terrified.
I am on my own. They don't where I am.
They won't come.
Mac didn't even notice, that his time was ticking. He didn't even waste a thought about answering or not. But still, in the end, his time was up. The man rose again, he sighed, "Okay then."
Okay what?! Mac renewed his struggles but still didn't have a chance against four man holding him down, zip ties and a rope around his upper body. So he could do nothing but watch as the man picked up a dirty kind of rag and water tube.
Mac's eyes widened in panic. Waterboarding!
"No -!"
His survival skills kicked in fully once again. With power he didn't know he had left in his body, he reared up and tried to dislodge the men holding him down. Mac started shouting once again, tried to kick out with his feet, but they were tied and pushed down hard at his knees so he couldn't bent them. His wrists hurt as hell because the were crashed under his body weight but none or less Mac kept up with his fight. But he didn't stand a chance.
The boss came over, water coming from the tube already. It spread on the dirty ground, leaving dripping sounds behind it. It was a sound Mac normally would ignore, but now it was the most terrible sound he ever heard.
The man stretched the rag on his face and his whole world went dark. Mac's body felt into panic. He had have training in waterboarding, but still, he couldn't click out his survival instinct, and after this day he was just on the edge with everything.
His moaning was silenced with the first water coming down on the rag. Mac forced himself to breathe out so the water wouldn't enter his lungs, but then a hit came down on his stomach. Mac wanted to double over but was restrained too much to do so. But he unconsciously hissed in some air to ease the pain – instead there was no air. Immediately he began to gag and cough.
The coughing grew deeper and deeper in a deperate attempt to draw in some air. But all he got was water. He tried to clear his lungs, but with every new cough new water came back in. He felt like he was sucking in the same water he just brought out of his lungs. Not long and tears started to leak down his face.
His chest reared up, being immediately pushed back down on the table. His hands were crawling all over the wooden plate as if they was searching for something to grab. Breathe! He needed to breathe!
Then the rag was pulled way.
Mac coughed hard as water poured from his nose and mouth. He tried to make space for the oxygen that he needed so desperately, but he still felt like drowning. Because coughing and heaving he couldn't drew in any air, on every inhale there were like seven exhales. He felt his consciousness slipping as he helplessly gasped for breath. He was shivering.
"And?"
Mac starred at the man with glassy eyes. His face was wet, of water and his own tears. His blond hair was wet, drops of water dripping on the floor beneath him. Mac could still hear the water running.
"I don't know anything", he breathed out quietly. His voice was so hoarse. And he could hear the undenying rattle sound in his chest, audible with every breath he took – the sign of a coming pneumonia.
"I think you're overestimating yourself", the man said. Mac wasn't sure if he was actually worried or not.
"I won't tell you anything", Mac breathed, his eyes closing, his head going limp. Instead he just focused on his breathing.
Not long and the rag was back. Again Mac tried to breathe out, but again he was hit in his stomach. Again the water entered his airways, again his struggle began.
The next time the rag was removed, Mac was barely conscious. He was sure this session took even longer than the last one. His head lolled around uncoordinated, he just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He didn't even cough anymore, the water leaked out from his nose and mouth just because of gravity.
Another hit in his side made him double over. That did the trick.
After he finally stopped coughing, Mac was sore. He hurt everywhere. His muscles were tense from all the heaving, his back was sore from the rubbing over the wooden table plate, his wrists had been crashed under his weight and shifting all along. Yes, he was done.
Why am I doing this?
Gentle claps to his cheek made him come back to reality. He moaned. "No –", he wheezed, almost feeling himself slipping into darkness, "No –"
He heard the man snarl. "I think you need a rest. Then we try something different."
And then Mac was getting terribly aware of the way a simple sentence like "I think you need a rest" could be interpreted by two different people.
Instead of actually giving him a break, the man found another rag and stuffed it into Mac's mouth. Mac was too exhausted to really fight him, but none or less he tried to dislodge the gag. But then the wet towel was back, shortly after the water was coming.
Again, the feeling of drowning. But now, Mac couldn't cough the water back up as it was blocked by the gag. His only way out was through his nose, but the sensation of inhale and exhale water through his nose actually was like drowning.
With a body sore as his it didn't take long for Mac to slip into darkness. His struggles ebbed out and with a last move his body went limp.
Why am I doing this?
Why am I doing this for a man who left me alone?
What do I owe this man?
The next time he came around he was sitting in his chair once again. Restraints were on again. New was the cloth tied around his head, acting as a gag.
His lungs rattled, definitely pneumonia. His chest felt heavy with every breath he took, it felt like waves of water moving in his lungs. His head lolled around, there was no strength left to lift it from his chest.
"Perfect timing, Angus!"
With last effort Mac opened his eyes. He only got them open half way. With glassy eyes and blurred view he tried to focus on his surroundings. Even though the room was dark, he was blended by the one and only bulb.
The man came in sight, still wearing his utterly expensive suit. His lackeys were busy with computers and electronics. And then Mac's eyes locked with a camera. All color that had been left in his face and that wasn't much from begin with, left his face, eyes growing wide. In an instant he was wide awake, new adrenaline pumping through his veins as he growled under his gag.
"We are going to ask your friends for help", the man said cheerful, "How is the big one called, was it Jack?"
Mac's breath sped up once again. This man knew everything about him. And this was the scariest part about this all.
"What about the shock?", the man eyed him, "Are you not happy to tell them you're still there?"
With his new power Mac shifted on his chair. But he was bound so well with the zip ties he couldn't do much. Desperately he searched the room. They were going to contact Jack! They were going to contact his team! His rescue team! He could communicate with them, giving them information where he was right now. Morse code maybe with his eyes?
But Mac didn't know where he was.
Desperation tried to wash him away at this sudden realisation. Exhaustion hit him full force.
But he couldn't think much about it, as he noticed a sudden change in his surroundings. Better to be said in the people around them. The man was standing with large figure right in front of him, covering him from the camera.
"Showtime!", he said theatrically as he pulled a clowns mask over his face. Then he stepped aside and Mac was fully on screen.