WARNING This chapter is full of violence and nasties. Keep in mind that by working at an animal hospital, I get paid to do lots of gross stuff and it may have influenced my owie-factor.

You know you love it.

One second later, the closest goon brought the butt of his gun down against the back of Hutch's head.

The world turned silent and black.

o0O0o

"This is boring."

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?"

"Gary, you really need to learn how to control yourself."

"How was I suppose to know his head was made of glass?"

Hutch slowly floated to consciousness, and instantly wished he hadn't. "Oh God," he groaned, curling in on himself in an effort to escape the overwhelming pain that radiated in his skull. He tried to lift an arm to cover his eyes but a familiar pressure on his wrists told him that his hands were bound. The gritty floor underneath him was cold, and when he remembered the men outside the warehouse, Hutch tried to lift his torso off the concrete.

"Well, looks like he ain't dead after all."

Hutch squinted and slowly Red's form came into focus before him. The guy was sitting casually on a wooden crate not ten feet away, while the two goons leaned against the wall to his right. The three of them seemed very amused at the pain Hutch could not conceal.

"Hutch, you okay?"

The soft voice of concern prompted Hutch to turn to the left. Starsky was sitting on the floor not too far away, leaning forward with his hands tied in the same manner as Hutch's. Hutch's vision blurred for a moment as the pain in his head crescendoed, and he let himself slide down the wall a little. "Never better," he replied lazily.

"Hey blondie- how many fingers?" laughed the goon who had hit him.

Hutch felt like he was underwater, and the visibility was about the same. It was a rhetorical question though, so he simply waited until the two goons were through elbowing one another.

Red stood up, effectively silencing the other two. "Well, since you boys are gonna be our guests for a little while, we might as well introduce ourselves."

Hutch closed his eyes. Sharing names meant his and Starsky's chances for getting out of this just got a whole lot smaller. Perps don't share names with people they intend to set free.

"Hey, I'm talking here!" Red snapped and kicked Hutch's outstretched foot. "Pay attention! As I was saying, you can call me David. These idiots are Mike and Gary." He was flaunting, and the spark in his eyes made Hutch shiver.

Mike, the one who had blind-sided Hutch, snorted at his introduction.

"Now tell me about you. What are two Bay City detectives doing wandering this side of town? You two really had nothing better to do? Or were you looking for somewhere to make out?"

The last comment earned a short round of laughter from Mike and Gary.

"We were looking for the girl," Starsky said flatly, interrupting. "And we found her."

The conversation seemed to be swirling around Hutch in a dream-like haze. Although the pain had receded minimally, he still felt light-headed and nauseous. He swallowed. He had to pull it together, for Starsky's sake. For April's sake.

"Think you found her, huh?" David snorted. "Look around, detective!" His voice raised with his hand. "You see her anywhere? Cuz I sure as hell don't!"

"Here girly girly," Gary sing-songed, and Hutch thought he'd never seen two people look more like hyenas than these two goons.

"Shut up," David snapped. When Gary fell silent, David turned back to Starsky. "Don't matter anyway. You ain't gonna be alive long enough to help her."

"Come on, man," Starsky tried to reason. "Don't let kidnapping turn in to murder. Give us the girl and you might be breathing fresh air on your ninetieth birthday."

David huffed. "Are you seriously trying to bargain with me, detective?" He moved a little closer and crouched down, folding his arms over his knees. "Look at yourself. You're tied up on the floor of a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, and your partner looks like his head's gonna loll off any second."

Hutch caught Starsky's gaze.

"Face it. You're mine." David stood up again and moved away.

Hutch sat up a little straighter, wincing from the effort. He could feel the unnatural swell of tender flesh on the back of his head as it made contact with the wall behind him. This would be a goose-egg to write home about, if he got the chance. He looked at Starsky with what he hoped was a comforting smile, but the worry remained etched on his partner's face. Neither of them had tried to move closer to the other, expecting a swift punishment if they did. So instead, they sat with their backs to the same wall, side by side on the floor of this dim warehouse and trying to figure out that the next move should be.

David had moved some distance away now, and was quietly conversing with his buddies. Feeling somewhat safe, Hutch turned to look at his partner more closely. Starsky appeared to be all right, with hardly any outward signs of a struggle. It was then that Hutch realized Starsky's feet were tied also, and an experimental tug of his own proved that he was bound the same way.

"So, what's the plan?" Starsky murmured with a hopeful look.

Hutch shook his head slowly. "They've got our weapons, plus their own, we're tied up and they've got April hidden somewhere. The plan is we sit here and wait."

Starsky sighed. "I knew you'd say that. I hate waiting."

"Me too. We've got to find April and get out of here."

"How bad is your head?"

"Intractable."

"What?"

"Excruciating."

"Oh." Starsky paused a minute, looking extremely uncomfortable before asking, "So, did you 'see' anything while you were out? Like, a way out of here or something?"

"No." Hutch looked at their captors when the murmurs fell silent. David was looking at them with something evil stirring in his blue eyes. Hutch shuddered as a flash of pain cut through his head.

"All right boys, we'll let you see the girl," David announced as the three moved closer. "But first, we're gonna have some fun."

Hutch's gaze dropped to the camera in Mike's hand, then rose to settle on the man's evil grin.

"You see, we're sorta wanted for a little more than kidnapping," David began. "If we get sent to jail, we ain't never coming out. So, we figured, what better way to fight fire than with fire?"

The three came to a stop only a few feet in front of Starsky and Hutch. Gary cracked his knuckles.

Starsky spoke first. "You're gonna get caught either way."

David snorted and put his hands on his hips. "But this way is so much more fun."

Starsky glanced at Hutch, then back to the criminals. "What are you gonna do?"

Hutch admired Starsky and the way he could ask such questions without a hint of fear in his voice.

David's face contorted into a look of giddiness as he explained, "You two are gonna get us safe passage to the border, amigo. Cops will do anything to protect their own."

"Especially when they're bleeding," Gary sneered.

David held his hand out to the side and the camera was placed in it. He held it up to focus on the detectives as Gary and Mike crept closer. "Stay away from blondie's head," David muttered as he fumbled with the lens. "I am really not in the mood to deal with a dead body."

A lead pipe appeared from behind Mike's back as he approached Hutch. To his left, Gary held a two by four.

Hutch steeled himself for the blow, turning away slightly with the hopes that not watching might ease the impending pain. He looked over just in time to see Starsky lash out with his bound feet and successfully take Gary's legs out from under him. The large man fell heavily to the concrete with a thud and a curse.

Hutch couldn't stop the proud smile from bending his lips.

"You think that's funny?" Mike growled. "I'll show you funny!"

So swiftly that the metal sung through the air, the pipe came crashing down on the side of Hutch's right knee. There was a flash of light and Hutch forced his eyes shut.

Pain exploded with a sickening crunch, enveloping Hutch's entire being as he recoiled helplessly.

"That was awesome!" David laughed, holding up the camera. "Talk about a money shot!"

"Hutch!" Starsky's voice reached him belatedly, but Hutch could barely see through his tears, let alone formulate any words.

"I'd worry about yourself, hotshot," Gary growled, seconds before the sound of wood colliding with cotton and ribs echoed through the room, which in turn preceded Starsky's cry of pain.

Without missing a beat, Mike swung the pipe again, this time stepping into the swing and landing a solid blow to Hutch's midsection.

Hutch expected to see his lungs burst from his mouth and bounce across the dirty concrete floor. He instantly jack-knifed, doubling over so quickly he lost his equilibrium and tilted to the side. His throat was closed off due to the pain and despite the burn in his chest, Hutch could not draw in a breath. His hands were planted on the floor to prevent his complete descent, and his ribs expanded uselessly, trying to inflate his lungs.

"Jesus Mike, I said don't kill them," David reprimanded, watching Hutch's struggles.

"He looks kinda like a fish outta water, don't he? Gulpin' for air like that…"

Just as the darkness was closing in, Hutch's throat relaxed and he sucked in a small amount of oxygen. He was wheezing horribly and sounded like the victim of an asthma attack, but slowly, his lungs were inflating. He could almost feel his lung walls separate, peeling themselves apart with agonizing laziness. Hutch found himself curled in a ball with his arms wrapped protectively around his throbbing ribs.

Starsky must have recovered from his own blow because he was beginning to struggle again. "Don't touch him," he threatened, and Hutch wished he could see the look on Starsky's face as he said it.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

This time the two-by-four was brought down from overhead, hammering Starsky's toes to the concrete.

The blue Adidas squeaked- or maybe it was Starsky, scuffing the floor as they were pulled backwards and away from the blow. Hutch winced in sympathy.

"Slow down!" David warned. "Give me a warning or something so I can get these pictures!"

"Now!" Gary yelled before his swung the board, connecting with Hutch's elbow.

"Hey, stay with your own cop," Mike fussed, swinging his pipe and catching Gary in the stomach.

"You son of-"

"Idiots!" David yelled, interrupting their bickering. "Just do the job!"

Something clicked softly above Hutch's head, then the scent of cigarette smoke reached his nose. Next thing he knew, Mike's voice was close to his ear.

"How much time do I get for torturing a cop?" he asked quietly, twirling the lit cigarette in his fingers. Hutch watched wordlessly as small specks of ash floated to the ground.

Slowly, as if amazed by his own movements, Mike touched the burning end of the cigarette to Hutch's shoulder.

The thin fabric of his shirt burnt away quickly and hot agony spread through Hutch's nerves. He inhaled sharply and pulled away, only to have Mike follow his movements and press harder.

The cigarette was burning clear to the bone, Hutch was sure of it. The sickening smell of burnt flesh filled the air and his skin actually sizzled for a second or two before blood welled to the surface and smothered the heat. If Hutch had any strength left, he would have kicked at the man as Starsky had earlier.

A giggle erupted from David after another flash of light signaled a picture. "That's a good one! Hell, those cops will probably fly us down to Mexico when they get a load of what we're doing!"

"Hey, give me the lighter," Gary said, snatching the small metal device from his friend.

Hutch lay his head on the concrete and tried to melt away. He wanted to do something to help his partner, but he could barely keep his eyes open. His knee throbbed and tingled, his chest felt as if a metal band were squeezing him to death, his fingers were numb and there was a bleeding hole in his shoulder. His stomach was trying to crawl up his throat, and the room was spinning lazily. He was panting from the pain and every breath was torment. So this is what it was to truly be in a world of hurt.

A sudden thrashing gave Hutch the energy he needed to pick his head up. Starsky was rolling around on the floor, collecting dirt and spider webs, his face contorted in pain. It wasn't until he lay still that Hutch noticed the bottom of his shirt was burnt away.

"You bastards," he ground out. Nobody set his partner on fire without some serious repercussions.

"What was that?" Mike chuckled, looking down his nose at Hutch as he stood up. "You gonna do something about it?"

Experimentally, Hutch tugged at his bonds and was surprised by the incredible sting that met him. He glanced down to see his wrists had turned raw and bloody where he had strained against the rough rope.

"Didn't think so," Mike retorted with a kick to Hutch's stomach.

The impact had Hutch curled in the fetal position once again, except this time, he also had a mouthful of blood.

Great.

Hutch spit and swallowed alternatively, trying to empty his mouth as it filled. He was making a slimy, bloody, pathetic mess, but at the moment, he didn't really care.

"Hey guys- knock it off for a second," David said, setting the camera on the crate beside him and jumping down from his perch.

Mike and Gary paused and turned to look at their boss.

"I think I heard something," David murmured, holding up a hand for silence.

Hope flared in Hutch's eyes. Backup had finally arrived.

David must have seen the spark light inside his beaten captives. "Gag them," he ordered. "I don't want them making any noise. Then get out there and check it out."

Gary fished out a couple of handkerchiefs from his back pocket and he handed one to Mike. Hutch's head was pulled forward by his hair as a strong and calloused hand shoved the large ball of twisted fabric in his mouth. Then his support was gone and Hutch dropped limply to the ground.

He was choking. The fabric filled his cheeks and pressed against his tonsils, making every breath a valiant struggle not to vomit. His breathing was ragged and blood continued to drain into his esophagus. Hutch felt the handkerchief grow hot and heavy with the coppery taste.

Hutch opened his eyes wide, trying desperately to work his tongue under the pressure of the gag in order to dispel it. Starsky was watching him with an alarmed look.

"Quit it," David snapped, stepping forward with a patch of silver duck tape. He pressed the tape to Hutch's mouth, securing the gag before returning to his post by the crate.

The silence in the warehouse was deafening except for the heartbeat that thundered in Hutch's ears. He fought weakly, sawing the rope deeper into his skin as he tried to move his hands. His lungs burned as he dragged in short, gasping breaths to stall the nausea that was threatening to overtake him. If he lost it now, he would drown in his own puke.

Suddenly two gunshots sounded from outside. David flinched and held up his own weapon, waiting intently for the survivors to appear.

There was a moment where nobody breathed.

"We got 'em boss!"

Hutch closed his eyes.

David relaxed as Mike and Gary sauntered in the warehouse. "Our buddies must have called for backup after all," Mike announced, setting his weapon on a crate.

"You killed them after I specifically said I did not want any dead bodies," David sighed. "Good job, morons."

"Hey, you want us to be tied down with four cops?" Mike shot back.

Hutch's vision was turning to nothing. The tickle in his throat made his mouth water and his stomach was already convulsing, rocking his entire body. Liquid heat clogged his throat and filled his stomach. His limbs grew heavy. Not much longer…

"Now, where were we?" Mike knelt down next to Hutch and ripped the tape away, the handkerchief dislodging with it.

A solid stream of dark, slimy blood and bile splashed onto the floor and Mike jumped back, stumbling in his haste. "Holly shit!" he exclaimed, bumping into David. "What the hell happened?"

A chorus of disgusted sounds filled the warehouse as Hutch coughed up even more red mucus and tried to keep his head above the mess. He glanced up to Starsky, who was watching with terrified, sympathetic eyes.

During that brief contact, for the first time ever, Hutch doubted they would make it out of this alive.