Author's Note: Kinsey will eventually get his, I promise. But it's going to take a bit of lead up to make it sound good and not forced – so you all have to be patient and try to enjoy the ride.

OOOOOOOO

"What now, Colonel?"

Jack looked over at the cadet, wondering if he should call Thor and have the Asgard send him to the SGC as well. He decided against it – there wasn't any danger, really, and he could use the extra person, if for nothing more than an intimidation factor. Jack knew the men in the cells were the ones who'd snuck into the school and kidnapped the Cadets, and since they knew Ian was one of the ones they'd taken, they had to wonder what connection Jack had with the boy – he'd already more than proven to each set of men that he was more than willing to shoot any one of them. That, too, would intimidate them.

O'Neill was very good at intimidation, and he knew how to use every advantage he had. One man, a freshman cadet and a dog – no matter how large – should not have been a match for five well-armed and well-trained men, but add the help from Thor to completely throw out the early discipline and unsettle them, then add the fact they were locked in their own cells and almost naked, and the five men were now well on their way to giving Jack the information he wanted, whether they knew it or not.

"Now, we find out who is so interested in you guys," Jack said, just loud enough for Ian to hear him. "I'm going to go have a talk with the other guys. I want you to go take a look through the house and see if you can find another weapon – preferably a pistol. Stay away from the windows unless they're shaded, and don't touch anything you don't recognize. And stay away from the phones. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

Jack pointed to a staircase that led upwards. He'd seen it when he'd passed it on his way to join Ian at the other cell and had assumed it led to the rest of the house.

"There shouldn't be anyone else in the house, but if someone pulls up, or shows up, haul ass back down here and get me."

"Yes, Sir."

Ian went up the stairs, and Jack finished his walk to the other cell.

The three men there were all still standing, with various degrees of consternation in their expressions. They had been talking in low tones but when O'Neill showed up, they all went silent, and looked at him.

Jack stood just out of arm's reach in front of the cell, and crossed his arms over his chest, the Beretta negligently held in his right hand – with a far better grip than it appeared.

"Who are you?" Clay asked, stepping right up to the cell door, obviously trying to bluster, even though he wasn't in any position to. Jack didn't bat an eye, and he certainly didn't take a step back when Clay had stepped forward as the man had probably expected him to.

"I'm the man with all the questions," Jack told them. "Questions you're going to answer."

"I'm not answering shit."

"Ah." O'Neill allowed a mocking look to come to his eyes, and Clay hated that smug look immediately, and lost his temper – which was exactly what Jack expected him to do.

"I'm serious! You can't just come in here and lock us up and-"

"You had no problem going to the Air Force academy and kidnapping three cadets – the future of the Air Force, I might add – and locking them up," Jack interrupted, scowling and allowing just a shred of the fury that was smoldering just below the surface to show in his expression. "Not to mention the way you roughed them up."

"That was an accident."

This was said by one of the other men, and Jack looked at him, and immediately knew that this was the one who'd hit Shawn.

"He's 14," Jack said (and now his voice was barely suppressed fury – and he wasn't acting) "There are five of you. Obviously, you went in intending to hurt."

"No, we were only told to-"

"Shut up!"

Clay turned on Payne and visibly restrained the urge to hit his second in command for giving away so much information. The man was better trained than that. He should have known that this stranger was fishing for information. The bad part was, he had Payne so flustered that he was getting it.

"Told by who?" Jack asked.

"Who the hell are you?" Clay asked again, trying to turn the man's attention from Payne back to himself. Jack allowed himself to be distracted, but he wasn't fooled for a moment.

"That's classified."

"Air Force?" Clay asked, guessing. "You don't know what you're getting into here," he told the stranger, wrapping his fingers around the bars of the cell door and leaning even closer, making sure the stranger could see just how sincere he was. "You're making a huge mistake getting involved in this, and it's going to get you buried."

Jack wasn't impressed, but he hid that, too. He'd seen far more than this Major could even imagine, and there was nothing in this room that could intimidate him. Hell, there wasn't anything on the planet that could.

"Oh, yeah? Who's going to be holding the shovel? Who is so interested in these kids that they'd send a group of Army Rangers after them? What were you going to do with them?"

"Fuck you. I'm not telling you-"

A shot rang out, echoing through the entire basement, and Captain Payne went down with a squeal of agony, blood flowing freely from the bullet wound in his knee. Clay wheeled around, looking at his downed second in command, and then turning to look at Jack, pale with fury.

"You sonofabitch!"

Jack pointed the Beretta at Payne once more, cocking the hammer back. He had no problem shooting the bastard again, and it showed in his dark eyes.

"What were you supposed to do with the boys once you captured them?"

Furious, and completely helpless, Major Clay knew the look he saw in the stranger's eyes. There was no remorse. He'd shoot Payne – or Graf – until Clay told him what he wanted to hear. There was no hope that someone would hear the shot and call the police, either – the basement was soundproofed just for this reason.

OOOOOOOOO

Up in the house proper, Ian had had no trouble finding weapons. There were all sorts. Pistols and machine guns and all sorts of other commando paraphernalia – it was like a buffet for a survivalist community. The cadet didn't bother with the machine guns; they were intimidating, yes, but they were big and bulky compared to a pistol, and they were worthless in close quarters. He picked up one pistol and stuck it in the waistband of his sweats, and then grabbed up another one, checking the load on it before heading back for the basement. Two guns should be enough, right? He headed back for the basement, wondering if Colonel O'Neill had figured out a way to make the men talk.