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Vin and Chris walked into the diner at exactly six p.m. A waitress greeted them and asked if they needed anything. Vin ordered two sodas so that they wouldn't be kicked out, and scanned the room for the youth he'd met at the fountain. The kid was sitting at a corner table, sipping a soda, with a duffel bag sitting on the chair next to him.

Vin and Chris walked over and sat down across from him. The youth glanced at Chris. "Tanner," he said by way of greeting. "And I guess you'd be Larabee."

He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a brown-wrapped box. "He told me to give this to you. Wait, don't open it here," he exclaimed as Chris pulled the box over and began to remove the paper wrapping. At Chris's questioning look the kid explained, "I saw some of what Jake put in there . . . it's nothing you want to open in a diner. You want to be somewhere where there aren't people. You don't want to attract attention. Besides, Jake said to tell you not to open it until I'm gone."

He stood and left, once again climbing onto a motorcycle and roaring off into the night. Vin looked out the window. "The park's kinda empty. You want to open it there, Chris?"

They stood up. Vin left some money on the table for his soda and they went across to the park, sitting down on the fountain where he'd met the youth that morning.

Chris opened the box and let out an inarticulate cry of rage. Vin stared at the bloodied Armani jacket, the lock of black hair and the two watches, fear and anger welling up inside him. Samuels had done his research well; he knew that the seven members of Team Seven had some sort of bond that made them as close as brothers. Sending them personal items – personal items covered in blood – cut to the core of the two men.

"Damn it," Chris growled. "We have to get them out now."

A tinny ring filled the air. Chris and Vin looked at each other for a moment before Chris realised that his cell phone was ringing. He took it out of his pocket and said tersely, "Larabee."

"Chris, it's Josiah. We figured out where Samuels might be!"

"Are you sure?" Chris asked, hardly daring to hope that their profiler might be right.

"No, I'm not sure. But I'm pretty damn close to sure. Buck and Nate woke up, and we put together the information we have on Samuels, added some stuff that isn't fact but makes sense, and it pointed to two places. One's registered to a company here in Denver, so I figure it's not that. The other one is registered to a C. Xavier."

Chris didn't see the connection. "What's that got to do with it, Josiah?"

"Charles Xavier is the 'hero' in one of those comic books JD reads. Has a genius IQ, something like that. Samuels is young enough to be into comics, Chris. It fits. It's all we have to go on right now, and it's damn well worth a try."

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JD woke up slowly, the muscles of his arms, legs and back screaming at him every time he so much as twitched. For a moment he couldn't remember why he hurt so much, then it came back. Samuels, the video, the collar . . .

The leather still sat snug against his skin, the places where the dermal patches touched his neck burning slightly. He went to reach up and try to ease the chafing of the leather, but his arm protested the movement, sending a wave of pain through him. He groaned again, not wanting to open his eyes yet. Instead, he focused on his surroundings, trying to determine whether he'd been put back with Ezra or had been taken somewhere else.

He could feel pressure around his wrists, upper arms and waist; ropes, from the harsh rasp against his skin. He was upright, leaning backwards at a slight angle, wood hard against his back. A niggling half-image formed in his mind, though he couldn't focus enough to put all the pieces together. He groaned again, his head throbbing at the effort of thinking.

A hand touched his hair, smoothed it back from his forehead. Buck was always going on at him to get it cut. Was it Buck here? No, that wasn't right . . . Buck hadn't been captured. Ezra?

Warm breath tickled his neck. He frowned slightly; that wasn't normal. He opened his mouth to ask Ezra what the hell he thought he was doing, but he was silenced by the kiss that claimed his lips.

His eyes flew open and he was face-to-face with Mikhail. The big guard grinned and licked his lips.

"You taste even better than you look," he confided. JD took in his situation in a second; he wasn't in the room he'd left Ezra in. Instead, he was in a large, unfamiliar room, tied upright with his arms spread out, hard wood pressing against his back. He realised with a sinking feeling that he was bound to a crucifix. Mikhail was standing in front of him, blocking his view of the rest of the room.

"Mikhail, don't be all day taunting him," a lazy voice requested. Mikhail moved to one side and JD saw Caine sitting on the large bed, tossing a long, thin metal rod from one hand to the other. The bed sat across from a fireplace in which a fire was burning. Caine put the long rod into the fire, leaving one end out, and watched it begin to heat up. She picked up another rod, this one with some sort of design at the end, and placed it in the fire as well.

As JD watched, the Mikhail took out a knife that was starting to get all too familiar.

"You owe me two more, Agent," Mikhail said in a low purr. "Getting that tape off, and getting the doc to check over your fancy-mouthed friend. Did you think I was just going to forget our deal?"

"I couldn't exactly come to you," JD shot back. "The door was locked, you know. Made it hard to find you and make good on our deal."

Mikhail grinned, as though JD had said exactly what he wanted him to say. "You're here now. So I'm going to take what's mine."

He used the knife to cut JD's shirt away, baring the agent's stomach. The three cuts stood out in stark contract to JD's pale skin, each one about ten centimetres long. Mikhail lowered the knife and made a fourth cut, perpendicular to the first three. JD gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound as the blade was slowly dragged through his flesh. He knew it wasn't going deep enough to hit anything important, but it felt as though it was cutting deep. Mikhail raised the knife and looked at his handiwork, considering. He made the fifth cut across the previous four, making the tally. As he pulled the knife across, it tore the broken skin from the other four cuts, making all five bleed anew.

"There," JD forced the words out. "My debt's paid now."

Mikhail held the bloody knife above JD and grinned. "You've paid the debt that we agreed on. But I kinda think I'd like to make a new deal, Agent."

JD opened his mouth to ask what Mikhail was talking about, but the guard placed the bloody knife over JD's lips. "No. Don't talk. That's the trouble with Jake's little games – he's too easy on the pawns. I always said he needed to put the fear of God in them." His grin turned feral. "Or the fear of someone, anyway. Don't reckon that many of them believed in God anymore, after we finished with them.

"Jake's a good man, you know. Not many will hire a convicted criminal. But then Jake isn't one to care about a man's past, as long as that man stays loyal to him. And this is a good arrangement, better than any other job I could get with a conviction to my name. A place to stay, food, money, he even lets me use the ones he's finished with for entertainment. And all I have to do is make sure a couple of guys every few years don't escape."

"Every few years? How long has Samuels been doing this?" JD asked, ignoring the blade resting lightly on his mouth. Mikhail grinned.

"He's twenty-five, and I've been with him since he was about seventeen. I'd say he's played this little game about six, seven times all up. The longest break was this last one; we had to move the compound closer to the city, and Jake wanted to be sure that he knew everything about your team before he began the game. Had to know who to take, what sort of things to get the others to do."

"So why me and Ezra?" JD asked, trying to learn something – anything – that would give him insight into how Samuels's mind worked.

Caine answered, standing up and moving over to the crucifix. "You're the youngest, taking you made them all feel like they failed to protect you. Funny reaction, if you ask me; even a young guy can take care of himself, and it wasn't like they could have done anything. Hell, we had you and your friend out of that warehouse even before the gunfight started. As for the fancy man, well, it was more process of elimination. Couldn't take Tanner; he'd make far too much trouble, and even Mikhail might have had problems keeping him in one place. Wilmington's too attached to you to make an interesting hostage; watching his reactions when he finds out what has happened will be far more entertaining for Jake. Jackson was out of the question; having no trained medic makes the captives much more reliant on us. Sanchez is too powerful to risk; he would've had a chance at overpowering Mikhail. And Larabee has to stay free, of course, otherwise what's the fun in the game? You have to watch the leader's reactions to finding out that two of his agents are captives."

She paused, then grinned. "Besides, I took a liking to Standish once we'd done some research into your little team. It's always more interesting, taming the wordy ones. The intelligence makes it more of a challenge."

Caine's words chilled JD, and he hoped that Ezra was still okay. He remembered the insanity in Caine's eyes and the warning that one of the other guards had whispered to him earlier when she brought him and Ezra water. She'd said that Caine was dangerous.

Mikhail started toying with JD's hair. "You have nice hair," he informed the agent. "Soft and smooth, like silk. Like a girl's hair. I like soft hair."

"I'm happy for you," JD said sarcastically. "Now get your hands off me."

Mikhail's grin widened and he brandished the knife again. "I could always use this for more than fulfilling our bargain," he warned, sounding pleased about the prospect.

"Samuels doesn't want me dead."

"What I do won't kill you. Not physically, anyhow."

He placed the knife on a table near the bed and opened the top drawer of a desk, turning his back to JD for a moment. Caine wandered over and trailed her hand down JD's cheek, her fingers caressing the slight cut made by her knife that first night. She cocked her head and said, "Puppy's hurt himself. His face is all cut up, doesn't match the rest of him anymore."

"We can fix that," Mikhail said over his shoulder. "We can make the rest of him match his face."

Mikhail turned back to the crucifix, carrying a cardboard box with him. He stood next to JD and began to go through the box with one hand, the other returning to stroke JD's hair. With an effort, JD pulled his head away and hissed, "I said get your hands off me."

The guard's eyes hardened. He grabbed JD's chin and pressed his fingers into JD's jaw. "You listen to me, Agent. I will make this very, very painful if you bug me. Now, I'm damn sick of your mouthing off. Anyone would think you'd been taking lessons from Standish at how to piss people off. I've noticed he's good at that; sure pisses off Ashley, anyway."

He chuckled. "Now she's a woman to worry about, aren't you, Ash? She went and asked Jake if she could have the Southerner for a while; teach him better manners. Just between us, Ashley's a little rabid most of the time, right Ash? Thinks people are animals to train. Never made that mistake with me or Jake, but she does like to rough up the prisoners a bit."

Caine grinned at Mikhail's words, seeming not to take offense at what JD thought was an insult.

"Can't see how you're any better than he is," JD shot back, ignoring the warning voice in his mind that told him to be passive for once and not try to antagonise Mikhail further. The voice turned out to be right as Mikhail's expression turned hard again.

"Now what'd I tell you about mouthing off at me? Ashley was right about you at least; you are the most stubborn one Jake's brought in, and Ashley and me have seen a lot of folks. You and Standish, and the rest of your team, you're closer than any of the others were, too. Kinda makes me think that they'll feel as though everything that's been done to you two was done to them, too."

He grinned. "It's an interesting thought. I've done a lot in my time – most of it what got me in prison in the first place – but I've never tortured seven men at once. Figuratively speaking, anyway."

JD's eyes widened at his words.

"Get the fuck away from me."

Caine leaned forward. "You know, Agent, you're not the first. We've tortured plenty of others. You remind me a lot of Alex, actually; he looked a lot like you. Alex wasn't the first either, but he was one of the best. Fought all the way. You have hair like his, too, only yours is a bit longer. His was longer than the other Feds, though. I always did think that was a bit strange for a Fed; usually they're clean-shaven short-back-and-sides types. I think that was what made him interesting to me; he was different. Like you."

"You two are disgusting, did you know that?"

Mikhail grinned. "They all say something like that. We're monsters, or disgusting, or sick, or some variation of that. Hell, Agent, I'm not going to disappoint you if you're so hell-bent on thinking that of us."

He looked back in the box, toying with something inside, before looking back at JD. "You wonder how your fancy-mouthed friend is? It's been almost two hours since Jake made that video; I'd bet your pal's woken up now. You think he's wondering where you are? I could always go and enlighten him," he added, smiling wickedly.

"Keep the hell away from Ezra, you fucking psychopath," JD hissed.

Mikhail rummaged in the box, looking for something in particular. "Trading insults with you is fun, Agent, but I have something even more fun in mind. Doing the verbal tango gets tired after a while, and I reckon me and Ash want to have some fun."

Caine crossed back over to the fireplace and removed the first metal rod, now glowing red-hot. She returned to stand in front of JD, holding the glowing tip of the poker centimetres from his face. She studied the red-hot metal for a moment, before carefully, deliberately drawing it down his chest, leaving a line of fire behind.

JD bit back a scream, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of hearing his pain. Caine looked at Mikhail, a strange smile on her face.

"We have a stubborn one here, Mikhail. He's not going to break easily."

Mikhail finally found what he was looking for; he straightened, holding a serrated knife. He grinned at Caine, then turned to JD.

"We are gonna have some fun, Agent."

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Sorry about the late update, guys. I've been swamped with RL stuff. Hopefully the next one shouldn't take so long J