Mike smoothed the wrinkles on his jacket and straightened his tie. He felt like his heart was about to pound out of his chest. Performing in front of crowds was no problem. Talking to the city over a television broadcast, on the other hand. It wouldn't be near as scary if the guys were here cheering him on. Just knowing they were safe would help a lot. He glanced around the room, hoping that he'd see the guys run in any second.

"Hello, Nesmith."

Mike spun around to face Zeckenbush. Usually, Mike was constantly having to correct people's pronunciation of his name. But the way Zeckenbush said it correct and pointedly made Mike's skin crawl.

Pulling himself together, Mike tried to act nonchalant. "What do you want?"

Zeckenbush smiled. "I just wanted to wish you luck. It can be a might intimidating to be in front of the camera. Especially when you're doing something you're not rightly qualified for."

"What do you really want?"

The smile disappeared. "You know what I want. I want you to withdraw and not say a word about the evidence you found at city hall. I already warned you about trying to best me. I'll give you one more chance to walk away. I'll even let your friends go if you do. Or you can play the hero. Believe me, no one is going to care about two unemployed musicians being found dead."

"You really think you can get away with murder?" Mike put his hands on his hips to try to look more in control.

"Why not? Always have." Zeckenbush looked Mike up and down. "You really think I could be swayed by some skinny kid? Mark my words, Nesmith. Nothing you or your friends do will change how the election will turn out. It'll happen exactly the way I pay for it to happen, the same way it always does. If you want to see your friends alive again, you'll withdraw the second you go on air."

Mike sat down as Zeckenbush walked away. His legs were shaking so bad he wasn't sure if they'd hold him up much longer. He watched Zeckenbush stand near the mayor, looking at Mike with a smug grin. Mike tried to think of a plan. Zeckenbush had said two musicians, that meant he hadn't caught Micky. Mike was certain that Micky would be able to find Peter and Davy. But Mike needed to buy some time to make sure Zeckenbush didn't send word to kill the guys before Micky had a chance to free them.

His mind raced as he tried to decide what to do. If he withdrew, he felt like he would be letting the guys down after all the hard work they'd done. But as long as the guys were in the hands of Zeckenbush's men, going against Zeckenbush would get them killed.

"Two minutes to air!" Someone behind the cameras pointed at Mike. "Get some makeup in this kid. He looks like he's about to drop."

Mike smiled as an idea formed. He saw a man headed towards him. He was going to have to move fast if he wanted his plan to have the slightest chance of working. He stood up as quickly as he could and took a step forward. He didn't fight the fuzzy darkness that overtook his vision as he felt himself falling. His last conscious thought was a prayer that this worked.

~M~

Micky pulled the doors open hard enough to slam them against the walls. There wasn't anyone in the front area. He marched into Motley's office, once again slamming the door open. The secretary jumped up in surprise from where she sat watching the television.

"Where's Peter and Davy?" Micky demanded.

"What do you think you're doing? City Hall is closed for the day. Please leave."

"The door was unlocked and I don't care." Micky walked up to the desk. "Tell me where my friends are and I'll leave.

The lady tried to pick up the phone. Micky reached across the desk and grabbed it, holding it down. "Lady, I am not in the mood for funny business. Just tell me where they are."

A hand grabbed the back of Micky's shirt and pulled him back. "What did you do with them?"

Micky stood on his toes as he looked up at the man holding him. "What?"

The secretary stood up. "What are you talking about, Johnson?"

"Those two musicians. They're not in the basement anymore, Wakefield. The ropes were untied."

Micky laughed. "How did Zeckenbush ever get to be in charge when he has morons working for him?"

Johnson pulled harder on Micky's shirt. "Where are they? I know you let them loose."

"Why in the world would I let them loose, then come back looking for them?"

"So we would think you had nothing to do with it."

Micky rolled his eyes and looked over at the secretary. "Lady, I know you're smarter than this."

"He had nothing to do with the others escaping. There have been people watching him all day."

"Well, that's comforting." Micky couldn't help the sarcasm that slipped out.

The phone ringing interrupted what Wakefield was about to say. Micky tried to maneuver himself so his shirt wasn't choking him as he tried to figure out a way out.

Wakefield slammed the phone back into the cradle. "Johnson, get Dolenz down in the basement. And make sure you actually tie him right."

"What's going on? Is the broadcast over?" Johnson lifted Micky to where he could barely touch the ground.

"There was no broadcast. Nesmith passed out before he could go on. We need to keep Dolenz secured so Mr. Zeckenbush will be able to use him."

Micky groaned. He knew Mike was pushing too far. Johnson let him down a little. He rubbed his throat as he was finally able to put his heels back on the floor. "Well, no withdrawal. We'll see you at the polls."

Johnson backhanded him. "You just don't seem to get it, kid. We won. We have you and Mr. Zeckenbush has Nesmith. Aren't you afraid of what we could do to you?"

Micky calmly smiled. "I'm too angry to be scared."

Johnson laughed. "Sure, beanpole." He pushed Micky out of the office and towards the door that Micky assumed led to the basement. Micky walked forward then abruptly stopped and kicked Johnson in the knee. As Johnson bent down to grab his knee, Micky gave an uppercut as hard as he could before running towards the front door. Johnson recovered faster than Micky expected. The man tackled Micky down and punched him.

"You'll pay for that."

Micky tried to hold his hand under his now bleeding nose as Johnson dragged him to the basement door. Johnson opened the door and shoved Micky down the stairs. Micky tried to grab at the handrails to catch himself. He heard his shoulder pop as he landed at the bottom. He laid there not moving or even breathing until he heard Johnson walking down the stairs. He tried to make himself stand up to get away. With one arm useless and the rest of him extremely bruised, he couldn't get all the way to his feet before Johnson spun him around and punched him again. He hit the wall and slid to the floor.