Author's Note: Ladies and Gents, please keep your tissues and drama pangs inside the plane at all times, we are ready for takeoff! Here's where stuff starts to get rough.
Just for reference, I used Hugo Weaving as my model for Brenner. This site won't let me post the reference pics, but they'll be in the same story, under the same title, over on Archive of our Own.

Chapter Warnings: Electroshock therapy, hallucinations, torture, mild gore.

"... till it broke open and rained down… it rained down like… pain."

- Believer (Imagine Dragons)

When Murdock finally woke, it was to an all-over ache and a new stinging in his arm. He lay there, still on the cushioned floor of the padded room, and took stock of his injuries. His head hurt, and he couldn't smell anything past the dried blood in his nose. His shins hurt, his arms hurt, and his torso felt like one big bruise, a particularly sharp spot in his chest, suggesting a bruised rib as well. Not only that, his wrists were bound in front of him with what felt like those plastic zip ties policemen sometimes used as handcuffs.

All in all, not the best situation to be in.

On the plus side, though, he could think clearly now… not that it helped him break restraints or heal wounds, but it was something, at least. With his newfound clarity came a confused jumble of memories. He remembered Brenner's first injection and breaking free. He remembered calling Face, and his heart ached at that. He wished the conman was here… well, not here. He wouldn't want Face trapped here too. But he did wish that his friend was somehow nearby so Murdock could rely on his cool head and confidence, and maybe talk or joke with him to while away the time until rescue came. Murdock sighed, and winced as the movement made his chest hurt.

What had Face said?

"I'll come and get you right now, okay? I'll be there in no time."

He'll be here in no time, Murdock thought. Okay. I can hang on till no time.

He cracked his eyes open to look around for a clock, but found only row after row of padding. Oh, yeah. Isolation room. Thankfully, the lights had been turned down to a dim glow, making the walls look more grey than white. He wasn't about to complain, though, not when the light had hurt so much before. The most striking thing about the room though was the large metal chair that had appeared in its center.

It looked something like a dentist's chair, minus the comfortable stuffing-filled plastic seat, of course. The chair was a familiar enough thing to Murdock. It had all the leather straps and sharp angles of the chairs used for electroshock therapy and the same wide round base that kept the chair from tipping during sessions. This one appeared to have been bolted through the padding to the floor beneath and that seemed a bit extreme to Murdock but he didn't question it. Falling over in one of the chairs would be worse than the tickling electricity that it provided.

Attached to the side of the chair was a large, box-shaped control panel with switches and dials on top that stood at the perfect hand-level height beside the chair. Hand-level for someone standing by the chair that is.

Along with the chair, the only other non-white and padded object in the room was the little red light that hovered in the corner.

Camera.

Swell.

Say cheese, kiddies.

Murdock pushed himself awkwardly into a sitting position and pressed his lips into a thin smile for the camera before he looked down at his arm where the needle had pierced his skin. His heart sank. There were three pinpricks on his arm now. They must've injected him with something while he was out. The second mark would explain the fuzzy, sleepy feeling that still clung to his eyes and mind. Sedations too then… These guys have all the fun toys. The third was likely the same as the first injection, it had struck Murdock as something meant to build upon itself but Brenner had used way too much the first time around.

They seemed to have adjusted the dose this time, because his vision was still fine. Murdock was fairly sure that most… okay, some… of the fear he'd felt the day before (or at least 'the time before he passed out') had been due to the drug. Sure, he'd been spooked but his usual response was to scoff, joke, sing, recite poetry, and generally act insane until someone made a wrong move and he could gain the upper hand.

So, a drug that caused fear. The rest of the stuff it'd done, like the hazy vision and the kaleidoscope spinny walls were common side-effects he'd experienced before, but that fear had been something new. New, and likely on its way back, if that extra hole in his arm was anything to go by. There wasn't much he could do to prevent that, though, and after a few minutes of silence and stillness, Murdock's mind began to wander off and he let it, only vaguely interested in the list of things that also had holes that his mind was currently cataloging.

Pincushions… Swiss cheese… wooden fences… donuts… the corner of his new room… golf courses… cheese graters… Wait, what?

Murdock blinked. Okay, maybe not a hole, but it sure was shadowy in that corner, darker than the grey-lit walls… much darker. He sat up from his slouched position against the wall and shook his head, peering at the corner again.

Still dark and deep.

Just a trick of the light, he thought apprehensively. Just a bulb that's out in that corner. Brenner's probably too cheap to get it fixed. Nothing wrong, just a dull bulb.

He watched the corner for a few minutes more, but the shadows didn't grow… or fade. He'd just about worked up the courage to go and poke at it when the cushioned door opened with the soft brush of cloth on cloth and Brenner entered.

"Time for our session, Mister Murdock." Murdock pushed himself to his feet as the Doc moved to stand by the chair. A flutter of amusement pushed a cautious smile onto his lips and he gestured with his bound hands to the metal contraption.

"You know I've done that before, right? You did read my file, not jus' skim it?" He knew there was at least a whole page devoted to how electroshock therapy just didn't seem to work on him. He felt something, sure, but it wasn't pain. It kinda tickled, really. No way was he lucky enough to get a mad scientist who didn't do his reading, right? But Brenner just smiled back coolly and motioned for him to sit, as if they were two pals having a business talk at a fancy diner, instead of a shark in business-casual and a guy with dried blood all over his face.

"I am aware of your seeming immunity to electroshock therapy, but please, indulge me. I prefer to make my own observations rather than rely on another doctor's notes." The Doc tilted his head at the chair with an encouraging smile that didn't do much to silence the tiny voice in the back of Murdock's head that was shouting at him not to trust the guy, but this was electroshock. He knew this. He even sorta liked this except for the off and on muscle tremors he got afterwards. Murdock moved forward slowly, keeping one eye on the men who'd slipped in to stand on either side of the door, presumably to force him into the chair if he resisted. As he got closer, he also watched the dark corner but no matter how close he got, the shadows didn't lessen. If anything, they grew darker. He paused, frowning at the corner. Usually when you got closer to dark spaces, your eyes would adjust and see a little better in them, right? This shadow was weird and Murdock didn't like weird shadows.

"Something wrong?" Murdock looked up to see Brenner watching him, and he gulped.

"Nothin'. It's nothin'." He flicked a finger at the chair, just a foot from where he stood. "So… I jus' sit down here, go for a lil' ride, an' we're done?"

Brenner nodded.

"That's it?"

Another half-nod, this time accompanied by the sort of amused smile a spider gives a struggling fly. Still… he needed to keep Brenner happy and himself in good-to-go condition for when Face arrived, and he got the distinct feeling that if he refused to sit down himself, the guards would be more than willing to help him, likely with a few more bruised ribs to boot. So he sat.

The chair was uncomfortable, just like Gladys, but it had none of the old gal's personality. This chair was hard, cold and efficient. Gladys was just rude, but she meant well. The not-orderlies stepped forward then and began strapping him in. One strap across his chest (thankfully, higher than the bruised rib but still a little tighter than he'd like), one on each arm just above the elbow, and one just below each knee. The tie keeping his wrists together strained and pushed painfully into his skin when they strapped his arms down, but he bit his lip and stayed quiet.

Just goin' for a tickle-ride, a little laugh-trip, then we're done for the day, an' Face has plenty of time t'break himself in and us out. Nothin' t'worry about. Done this a hundred times before.

Somehow, he didn't quite believe his own ramblings, but the nurse-orderly-guard-whoevertheywere's had backed off and actually left the room at a wave of Brenner's hand.

Just you an' me, Sharkface, he thought, but the idea of being alone with Brenner in any situation was less than comforting. The Doc flipped a switch on the machine the men had set beside the chair and a mechanical whir filled the room as the chair slowly reclined. The part beneath his shins even bent upward like the footrest on the armchairs in the rec-room… only made of metal and considerably less comfortable. Murdock turned, watching Brenner closely as the man moved to stand by his head, looking down at him with a detached superiority.

"Open wide." Murdock obeyed, used to this step in the process. But instead of the usual grey mouth guard, a bar of rubber-coated metal was shoved into his mouth like a horse's bit. A chain ran from each side of the bar and fastened to the head of the chair, keeping the thing firmly between his teeth. The doctor's hand moved to rest on the controls and Murdock fidgeted nervously. Something was wrong here. Really, really wrong. Where were the buzzy things they put on either side of his head in the usual sessions?

"Oh." Brenner paused and Murdock looked up at him, apprehension turning to fear when he saw the self-pleased smile spread across the doctor's face. "I may have neglected to mention: this treatment is a little different from what you're used to… A bit more… focused, if you will."

Murdock tried to ask what the guy meant but before he could form the words around the bar in his mouth, a flash of electricity tore through his body. It lasted less than a second but it left behind a pain that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. He gasped and turned wild, startled eyes on Brenner who stood impassively beside him, fingers just barely brushing the controls. A dial was turned, a switch flicked and agony coursed through his body like river rapids, searing across every nerve. He convulsed, muscles contracting randomly in painful spasms. It stopped as quickly as it began, leaving him panting raggedly, jaw clenched around the rubber and eyes wide. Brenner leant into view, brows knit in curious concentration. He said something, but it took Murdock a minute to decipher the words past the buzzing in his head and the residual pain.

"While we're here, I might as well inform you that any information you might have on the whereabouts of your teammates would be greatly appreciated by my employer. Personally, I cannot see the purpose of questioning a defective brain like yours, but it is his money and influence providing the means for my studies, and I would be remiss in neglecting his request." The dead eyes moved from scanning his trembling body to searching his face and Murdock felt a flare of fear as the man's hand moved to the dial again, turning it upward another notch.

"So… for every bit of information you give me, I will lessen the pain. For every refusal…" He tapped the dial with one long finger. "I think you understand, hmm?"

So that's what this was all about… his team. It was probably Lynch who'd hired Brenner, and if it was Lynch, then those men dressed as orderlies really were soldiers and there were probably more keeping a lookout for Face. Murdock's heart sunk at that. Looks like 'no time' is gonna take longer than I thought… He groped blindly in his rattled mind for the POW instructions they'd all been given in the army. Something like, 'If you do get caught, say nothing and try to disrupt the enemy's plans from within.' He was good at disruption. He could handle this.

"Anything you'd like to share before we proceed?" Share? There was a whole lot he wanted to share, most of it pretty rude too, but Murdock pushed that down, nodded jerkily, and waited for Brenner to remove the bit before plastering a sincere look on his face and speaking hesitantly at first.

"Y-Yeah, um… see, Doc, I- I jus' want t'tell you how I'm feelin'. Gotta make you understand." Murdock grinned, tapping one foot to the tune as he sang out the last few lines of the chorus. "I'm never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around an' desert you!" Brenner's blank expression was quickly turning sour. Rick-rolled, sucker, Murdock thought, still singing even as the doctor forced the bit back into his mouth. He made it as far as "Never gonna tell a lie, an'-" before he was cut off, leaving the last two words frozen in his mind as his body convulsed again.

Hurt you. Hurt you. Hurt you.

The pain was worse this time and when the shocks finally stopped, his jaw ached, his wrists stung, and his body jerked and twitched with lingering current. He barely managed a choked gasp before he heard the sharp tick of the switch and pain flooded his senses again, longer this time. When he could think again, Murdock became aware of a harsh, scratchy feeling in his throat. He must've been screaming. He'd have to pay closer attention. Didn't want Brenner thinking he was a wuss. The corner behind Brenner caught his eye: it was still dark but the shadows had moved outward an inch or so, spreading along the wall in all directions like an ink stain on a downy pillow.

The doctor leaned in again, face silhouetted against the overhead lights and Murdock squinted through the brightness and pain. Something had changed. The more he tried to focus, the more Brenner's form seemed to flicker, stretching and warping in his vision like a glitched computer screen. A grey, blurred hand reached for his face and he struggled, pulling away as far as he could, but the hand simply unhooked one side of the bar in his mouth, setting the thing aside before withdrawing.

Distract, deflect, stall, make the enemy fumble and stay alive. That's all he had to do. Give them nothing, but gather everything you can. He took in a shaky breath and spoke past the drug-induced fear clutching at his heart.

"What d'you really want?" Brenner cocked his head curiously and Murdock continued. "I kn-know what Lynch wants, but what're you doin' here? If my brain's so 'defective' are you jus' in this for the money or w-what?" He grimaced as his muscles trembled slightly with an aftershock, watching Brenner as the doctor's image wavered and darkened under the drug's influence.

It was just the drugs, he told himself. Just whatever cocktail this kook had him on, nothing more. But saying that didn't help the fear building in his chest and it especially didn't hold much weight when Brenner leaned in, the figure focusing into a nightmare image.

The eyes were all wrong, red and dripping blood and hate through a mask of grayish skin. A grotesque grin spread across the thing's face, ear to ear, displaying pointed black teeth and Murdock suddenly couldn't breathe past the leather strap pressing into his ribs. He shrank back as the thing bent closer, cocking its head like a curious raven before speaking in Brenner's voice.

"My studies are of both mind and body," it hissed, the red eyes blinked sideways and watched him coldly. "In the past I have tested those with strength, strong men of both muscular and mental prowess. I challenge them… break them down. You are little more than a diversion. A way to pass the time. Your soldier's training should provide some information with regards to the gradual weakening of the body, but your mind is already compromised." The nightmare blinked again, speaking casually as if they were talking over coffee rather than over a metal torture device. "What I want… is to watch you fade. Document it… the process of your death…. And extract from you the location of my true goal. The real challenge…."

Murdock could feel his thoughts growing scattered, fear scrambling them as the drug kicked in more and more. He tried to think of a rebuttal, to quip or joke, but he couldn't form words past the terror-bird beating its wings against his ribcage. Murdock gasped for breath, fear drowning all thoughts but the basest need to escape. The panic spiked as the monster splayed a massive hand across his chest, leaning even closer until it nearly touched his nose with its nose-less face. "Where is John Hannibal Smith?"

Hannibal? It wanted Hannibal? Hell, no. This drug trip wasn't taking his team, no way no how. But this wasn't some random hallucination. He'd seen this creature before. He knew its name. He'd learned it in Germany from a fellow patient, a man who called himself Rusty and muttered about demons and darkness. He'd drawn a picture of what he saw, showed Murdock one day just out of the blue. Maybe Rusty'd heard him talking about Sosa or something, but 'El Diablo' had been a joke, just a silly nickname he gave Face's old flame because of her temper. Rusty's picture was of a monster, not a joke. It'd been scribbled in pencil, dark lines and light crisscrossing wildly to form a shadowy beast of a man, a creature with an ear-to-ear grin and evil eyes, blood spilling from its mouth and hands as wide as a man's chest.

That was the real Diablo, the real Devil… and it was staring down at him now, like a drawing come to life, alien eyes blinking and watching, waiting for him to answer… getting closer and closer the longer he waited….

"E-El Diablo…." The words slipped out in a shocked, panting whisper before he could stop them and he breathed in momentary relief as the thing, the demon, pulled away. But then it frowned, anger making its eyes flash a fiery red.

"Very well then." Murdock's eyes flicked to the dial in alarm as the thing turned it up not one notch, but three with a soft clicking that was far, far too gentle for the horror it embodied. "We shall continue."

Pain.

Murdock's body strained against the leather straps, seizing so violently that his foot slipped off the metal base, the continuing jerks and spasms causing the edge to lacerate his ankle and the side of his leg. Without the rubber between his teeth, they chattered with every jolt and he tasted blood, swallowed it, choked on it. He had no way of knowing how long the pain went on, but it felt like hours.

When the fire finally stopped raging through him, he collapsed into the chair's steely hold, exhausted and shaking and coughing blood onto the rigid headrest. There wasn't a single inch of his body that didn't hurt. He lay there, dazed, as the restraints loosened and he was hauled roughly to his feet. The soldiers must've returned because the hands on his arms were normal, human hands, not demon's paws. He tried to struggle, but his limbs only jerked and twitched at his commands. After a second or two, he gave up for now and let them shove him back into the corner he'd woken up in. Landing with a weak grunt on the padded floor, he watched as the soldiers left, Brenner – no, the Devil, because although it looked like Brenner again, it wasn't… not really – following them this time and leaving him finally alone. He coughed, spitting out more blood. Must've bitten his cheek during the shocks: he could feel the torn flesh against his tongue. Slowly and awkwardly amid the residual tremors, he curled his knees up to his chest, looking down at where his leg throbbed in time with his heart.

The blue plaid fabric of his pants had been torn a good couple inches and blood stained the cloth a dark purple. Wincing, he reached down and pressed his bound hands against his leg.

Without the strength to dwell on what'd happened, Murdock allowed his mind to wander, tuning in to the personal radio station in his head and humming jerkily along with 'Living on a Prayer.' He just lay there, humming and watching the corner diagonal from him. Watching past the dangling leather straps of the chair as the shadows grew another few inches and something shifted in their depths. The song continued to play in his mind as he slowly drifted off into sleep… or passed out - he didn't really care which as long as it took him away from here.

'We've got to hold on, ready or not. You live for the fight when it's all that you've got…'

All that you've got… all that you've got….

Unaware of what Murdock was enduring at that very moment, Face was sitting in the silence of his hotel room, laptop open on the desk and eyes scanning the coded documents. Quickly, he realized he'd found both everything and nothing. There were countless files and it seemed like a high school kid had gone through and slapped whatever code names on them he thought would sound coolest. Several hours in, he'd uncovered three embezzlement plans and one that hinted at gun smuggling, but nothing about the VA, Murdock, or the team.

A sharp knock on the door pulled Face from his search and he moved to the peephole before realizing the knock had come from the doubled doors joining his room to the next. Face waited till he heard the clear raps of Hannibal's Morse code password before he unlocked the door and propped it open. Hannibal and B.A. entered, both looking journey-worn but more than ready to get down to business. Before Face could express his relief at having them there and launch right into a babbled report on the situation, the Colonel held up a hand.

"Lieutenant, before you report, I want you to sit down, take a deep breath, and order your thoughts." Face reluctantly obeyed, admitting to himself that although it was pretty weird to have a C.O. who could read your thoughts, sometimes it did make things run more smoothly. Taking his seat at the desk, Face tried to arrange the events of the past days into some recognizable order while B.A. sat on the foot of the bed and Hannibal crossed his arms, watching Face expectantly.

"Start from when you arrived," Hannibal prompted and things finally fell into place in Face's head.

"Right… So when I got here, the security was already in place. You passed the VA on your way here, right?" Hannibal nodded. "Well, the guards outside work on a two hour rotation. There are two guys at the front and three in the back. Now, every hour, the third guy in the back does a loop around the whole building and every half-hour he checks both the left and right sides visually. Each guard has at least one sidearm and that third guy, the one who does the loop, he's got an automatic." Bosco shook his head slowly, letting out a low whistle.

"Man… Why they puttin' automatics outside a hospital for anyways? You find out who these guys are?" Face shook his head.

"No… not for sure. I mean, the uniforms point to Lynch but I've been going through his files and I haven't found anything on Murdock or the VA." He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and looked to Hannibal who was frowning down at him.

"What else?"

Face sighed.

"Well, the guards are the least of our problems. Even if we made it past them without attracting too much attention, they've got fingerprinting, background checks, you name it. I mean, from what Lacie said, these guys aren't just trying to keep the patients in… they're trying to keep us out." Face paused, glancing up at Hannibal in surprise as the Colonel took a step forward and glowered down at him where he sat. "What?"

"Lacie?" The Colonel's voice was a dangerous growl and Face realized his mistake, wincing and hoping the older man wouldn't be too furious with him.

"Uh… yeah… She's-"

"Face, I gave you a direct order to stay away from that place!"

"I did!" Face stood, spreading his arms innocently. "I swear, I never got any closer than the street! And I was in the 'Vette the whole time," he added when Hannibal's ice blue eyes sparked angrily.

"Really? Then who is Lacie?"

Face hesitated but only for a second.

"She's a waitress. She works at a diner down the street." Before he could continue, both Hannibal and B.A. groaned, the sergeant burying his face in one huge palm while Hannibal swore under his breath, one hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose in a way that always seemed to precede a lecture. Eager to head this one off, Face continued.

"Look, I just got her to go in and ask Joe about Murdock okay?" Face gestured to the window and the VA building several blocks down.

"Face…"

"I swear, I didn't go anywhere near the place myself!"

"Face…"

"And just because I took the initiative and did something instead of sitting around twiddling my thum-"

"Lieutenant!" Face shut up instantly, recognizing the barked title as an order, not a means to get his attention. Hannibal was really glowering at him now and Face was beginning to feel like a school kid being scolded for skipping class. Only he wasn't a kid! And he could make plans just as well as Hannibal could… sort of. Hannibal shook his head and Face braced himself.

"There is a big difference between taking the initiative and doing something only marginally less stupid than walking up to those guards yourself!" Face opened his mouth to protest but Hannibal cut him off with one raised hand. "So you didn't go in yourself. Fine. You still sent a waitress from a well-frequented diner, probably in her uniform, into the VA and right under those guards' noses!" Hannibal was truly glowering at him now. "What did you think they'd do when she walked in there, Face? Did you really think they'd just let her in without checking who she was? Even without fingerprinting and background checks, they could find out enough to know she's not related to anyone in that building and works only a block away! What if she can identify you? What then?"

"I…" Face stopped and sat back down with a heavy sigh, saying the only thing he could under the circumstances, even though he knew what would come after. "I didn't think about that…."

"You never do! You can't always expect me to come chasing after you to clean up whatever mess you've gotten yourself into! Planning ahead isn't just making sure your front line is covered. You have to plan out several moves, get ahead of the enemy, if you want to win." Up until that point, Face had been willing to sit down and let the berating run its course. He had forgotten about Lacie maybe identifying him and it had been a stupid plan but he couldn't help the angry retort from leaping off his lips at Hannibal's last words.

"This isn't some chess game, Hannibal! Some freakin' maniac's got Murdock in there and we-"

"That's enough, Face!"

Hannibal's snapped tone stopped Face in his tracks, frustration still tightening his jaw.

"Now start from the beginning and tell me everything."

He took in a deep breath, and began.