Chapter Warnings: Hallucinations, mild violence (fight scenes whoo!), mild swearing/derogatory language
"It's been a long day without you, my friend…." See You Again (Wiz Khalifa/Charlie Puth)
"Okay, Alpha. That's his train," Face muttered into his comm, watching from his place partway down the steps into the subway as Hannibal straightened, checking his watch as the signal to let Face know he'd heard. The plan was simple enough: Face gets eyes on the agent and directs Hannibal to him, Hannibal gets the guy into one of the blind spots he'd mapped out on the platform and takes him down. Then Bosco comes in with his janitor's cart and he and Hannibal stash the agent in the cart's large trash-bin and meet Face up top where they'd head back to the hotel and get whatever identification they needed from the unconscious man before stashing him in a nearby alley with a bottle of strong alcohol and a healthy amount of grime coating his clothes so he'd look like nothing more than a passed out drunk.
Of course, as things always seem to go when you really need a plan to move smoothly… they hit a little snag. The passengers disembarked and spread out among the boarding crowd and Face instantly homed in on a guy in a dark suit with glasses and a shady look. The only problem was… the guy seemed to have a twin. And that twin was walking in the opposite direction.
"Problem, Alpha… We've got two possible targets; one's headed for the schedule board, the other's coming up top." Face heard Bosco curse across the comm and Hannibal's voice muttered in his ear.
"Naturally… Beta, I'll take Target One down here. You follow Two but do not engage, understood? Just verify then call in backup."
"Got it," Face answered and he turned casually to jog up the steps after the target. The man looked vaguely familiar, wearing a suit and a Clark Kent style pair of glasses. Face followed him at a discreet distance, listening for Hannibal's voice and ready to turn back if the first man wound up being the real agent. He'd just rounded a corner after the man when Hannibal's voice snapped in his ear.
"B.A., get to Face's position on the double! Face, your man is the target. Repeat: your man is target, watch yourself!" Face barely had the time to realize Hannibal had dropped the code names, barely had time to register the meaning of the words being spoken hurriedly in his ear before a hand clapped down over his mouth and he was dragged backwards into a dark alley.
Instantly, Face fought back, slamming an elbow into his attacker's chest and wrenching himself loose. He rounded on the agent, just in time to take a hard hit to the jaw and another to the gut, doubling him over with the force of the blow. Before he could recover, Face found his arm twisted behind him, the agent's arm swinging into a solid headlock.
"Well, if it isn't former Lieutenant Peck?" The man smirked. "I still owe you one for that stunt you pulled in the station back in Germany." Face realized with a sinking sensation in his chest that the agent Lynch had sent was none other than the man he'd framed for a shooting back on the mission to get the plates. Kyle, he thought the guy's name was. It had been a couple of years since he'd heard it, but it didn't really matter because whatever his name, he had a hell of a grip and was demonstrating on Face's neck. Lights sparked in his vision and Face struggled, vaguely aware of Hannibal's voice in his ear but focusing more on Kyle's because he'd just said Murdock's name. The grip around his neck loosened and the agent spoke again, infuriatingly close to his ear.
"Didn't hear me? Sorry, lieutenant," the man simpered. "I said I bet I know why you're here. It's your pal, Murdock, in the hospital down there, isn't it?" The guy actually seemed proud of himself for figuring that out and Face resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead lashing out at the agent and landing a solid kick to his knee that freed his neck from the strangling grasp. Kyle stumbled a few steps, regaining his balance, pushing his glasses back up his nose and laughing. "Nice kick, lieutenant! Did I hit a nerve there talking about your retard friend?" A flare of anger rose in Face's chest and he lunged before he'd properly caught his breath, his right hook missing by mere centimeters as Kyle dodged, catching Face's arm and slinging the younger man into a pile of dark trash bags. "You know what Lynch has planned for him, don't you?" the agent asked casually. Face got to his feet and glared hatred at the man blocking the alley entrance.
"Come on, Kyle…," Face panted, forcing anger into a bitter smirk. "You really think you're high enough on the food chain to have info like that? You don't know anything, that's why Lynch sent you here."
Kyle nodded, shrugging and brushing off his suit.
"Yeah, right. I was sent here to verify a few things, that's all." A nasty smile broke out across the agent's lips, making Face's jaw clench furiously. "You know what I heard? I heard that psycho doctor keeps videos of everything he does. Something about 'preserving his scientific discoveries'." Kyle closed his eyes briefly before looking up at the sky, smiling like he was remembering the taste of fine wine. "Man, I'm telling you, Peck…" He looked back at Face, a cruel gleam in his eyes. "… I just can't wait to hear your madman howl."
Face snapped. In an instant, he had Kyle on the ground, nose broken and jaw bruised and glasses lying cracked a foot or so away. About the same time the agent lost consciousness, Face heard Hannibal's voice, for real this time and not through the earpiece. He gave the man one last shove against the concrete then got to his feet, looking up at the Colonel who was standing at the alley entrance.
"Face-" He could hear the concern in Hannibal's voice and cut him off before the older man could ask the inevitable question.
"I'm fine, boss," he snapped. "Just get him the hell away from me!" Face kicked at the unconscious man, but his blow missed as Hannibal pulled his lieutenant aside.
"Face, what happened?"
Face kept his eyes on the man on the ground, not wanting to meet Hannibal's questioning gaze. Face's mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings and it was hard enough to try to muddle through them on his own let alone explain to someone else what was going on. Bosco had entered the alley too now, still in his janitor's uniform and was handling the search of the agent's pockets for his IDs. Face flexed his hand, knuckles stinging and the sensation brought him back to the present and Hannibal's insistent watchfulness.
"I said it was nothing, okay?"
"No," Hannibal's voice came back patient but firm. "You said you were 'fine' and I can tell right off the bat that that's a lie so it's obviously not 'nothing.' Fess up, kid. What happened?" Face fumed a moment more before giving in with a sigh.
"He… He said he was here to check in on a few things but…" Face's jaw clenched tightly in anger and he had to take a deep breath before he could continue. "He said Brenner keeps a video log of- of everything. Everything he's done to-…" Face broke off, rage making his head pound. "He was going to watch it, Hannibal! Just watch like Murdock getting shot is some Friday evening showing down at the theater!"
The kick Face aimed at the dumpster beside him elicited a satisfying bang but did little to cool him down. He turned to glare again at Kyle who Bosco was carting off like a drunk friend who'd had one too many and passed out in an alley after a bar fight. They got more than a few glances but when B.A. muttered something about drinking too much the story seemed to hold and Bosco slipped around the corner, presumably stashing the agent in the van nearby. Face was drawn back to the alley by Hannibal's shocked tone.
"Getting shot?" Hannibal's hand on his shoulder drew Face's gaze to his CO's wide, worry filled yes. "Face, what exactly did he tell you?" Face frowned in confusion, pulling away from Hannibal's hand.
"What? No, nobody was shot, what are you-"
"Face, you just said he was going to watch Murdock be shot!" The lieutenant frowned deeper, thinking back. Had he said that? Oh, man… he had. He groaned, scrubbing a hand across his face.
"No… No, that was… that was because of… s-something else." Hannibal raised one eyebrow.
"Really? Maybe you'd like to tell me just what this 'something else' is." It was a statement, not a question and Face let a frustrated moan escape his lips.
"It's nothing, Hannibal, really. Just… Just a nightmare." Hannibal watched him closely for a moment before nodding.
"Very well, lieutenant. But when we get back to the hotel, you're getting some rest." Face started to protest but Hannibal cut him off. "That's an order, Face. You get some real sleep or I'll have B.A. drug you with one of his flight injections." After a moment's scrutiny of his boss's unreadable expression, Face gave up on determining whether or not Hannibal would follow through on his threat. Instead, he turned and followed Hannibal out of the alley, muttering a "Yes, sir" and hoping he could get some sleep that night.
Compared to the endless night, Murdock wasn't left alone long before the Devil returned, this time with a box clutched in its talons and the Gargoyles flanking its shadowed sides. The awful creatures reached down and hauled Murdock upright, sitting him against the wall with his back to the corner and stepping back to let their Master pass. The Devil came close, crouched down again and smiled a wide, black-toothed smile. The usual flare of fear in the pilot's chest was strangely absent. Murdock felt numb and detached and watched with dull eyes as the Devil opened the box, displaying a dark screen.
"You asked for Hell? Well, here you are." The screen blinked on and Murdock frowned at the picture. It was a hazy grey video of another small room, this one with a plain table in the center and three chairs along one side.
In those chairs sat three men.
Murdock's slow, plodding heartbeat jumped… then began to race.
Silver hair, brown hair, Mohawk.
"No…" His voice was little more than a whisper, but it made the Devil laugh a fire-crackling laugh.
"I must've judged them wrong. They crept in here just last night. Unfortunately for them… we were ready." The image on the screen changed as three men entered the room and faced the table. One stepped forward, hefting what looked like a baseball bat. The team stood and Murdock saw that their blurry hands were bound. The thugs struck, beating the prisoners cruelly. Murdock's horrified stare leapt from the hazy screen to the Devil's face. Diablo just laughed.
"This happened about three hours ago. They put up quite a fight, didn't they?" The Devil looked down at the struggle on the screen. "The youngest of them, his name is Templeton Peck, isn't it?" Murdock didn't answer, his eyes glued to the screen once more as one of the thugs slammed his fist into Face's chest. The Devil's smile widened. "Quite the little spitfire, isn't he? The old man went down easily enough, and the brute was manageable when restrained but that one…" A claw tapped the screen where the static blurred shape of Face was trying to fight off another attacker… and failing. "That one just wouldn't keep his mouth shut."
Something stirred in Murdock's chest, a trembling, boiling rage that scared him with its intensity. The Devil didn't seem to notice, too busy giving a crackling chuckle and watching the screen as a blow to the head dropped Hannibal limply to the floor, another thug downing B.A. with the bat. All three attackers then turned on Face who was already stooped and panting, bound arms pressed against his ribs protectively. The fire in Murdock's chest flared, pushing a rage-shaken snarl from his lips.
"In the end, we had to break his arm to keep him in check, and still he demanded we let him see you… even as the bone snapped clean in-"
Whatever the Devil was about to say was cut off as Murdock lunged forward. Pain, fear, exhaustion and any thought for his own safety was burned away by an all-consuming wrath. In a matter of seconds, Murdock had the Devil by the throat, pressing the shadowed body into the floor with one knee while he strangled the monster. The demon's face contorted gruesomely as it fought for air, clawed hands raking across Murdock's arms, and he pushed harder, ready and willing to kill the beast… but the Gargoyles weren't about to let their Master die. An arm hooked around Murdock's chest and he was dragged backwards. He thrashed wildly, his head slamming back into the Gargoyle's jaw hard enough to break him loose and, vaguely, Murdock was aware of shouting something at the Devil as he lunged again, striking the beast across the face with both bound hands hard enough to knock the monster back to the floor.
Then the Gargoyle had him again, strong limbs trying to pin his arms down, and was shouting something to the other. Blind rage burned in his mind and Murdock lashed out at the creature holding him, striking the thing with an elbow in the chest, then the face. Then suddenly the Gargoyle shoved him forward and he stumbled. His hands brushed metal, barely touching it before lightning struck him. He collapsed, body convulsing with the current that stabbed through his back from the metal base of the chair beneath him.
By the time it stopped, the Devil was gone, vanished entirely and the Gargoyles with him. Unable to think, let alone move, past the lingering fire in his veins, Murdock stayed where he'd fallen, the base of the chair digging into his spine and his leg hurting like it was being torn off.
He closed his eyes, watching the video again in his memory and searching it for any sign of a plan. Hannibal's plans were hard to spot, that's why they worked so well… but he couldn't see any. All he saw was the Colonel being hit from behind, B.A. surrounded and unable to defend himself with his hands bound, and Face backed against the wall, already hurt, with three thugs advancing on him. Whatever dregs of hope Murdock had left withered away as the scene played again and again in his head. There was nothing he could do. The Devil had his family and he couldn't even muster the strength to roll onto his side and off the hard metal beneath him.
Inklings crept from the corners, approaching with hungry mouths open and glass shard-teeth bared. They were many now, inklings of pain and of loss, war and death, fear and hunger and thirst. And somehow… Murdock knew… the worst was yet to come.
Because he'd chosen Hell… and this was only despair.
As it turned out, Lynch had sent another man along with Kyle. The second man, who was dressed in all black with a multi-pocketed vest that presumably held the ammunition for the handgun that had pressed into Hannibal's back as soon as he and Face left the alley. A sharp turn, a broken wrist and a handy sedative later, they had a drunk friend to sit with Kyle.
Lynch seemed to be using the same tactics he had at the train station when Face had met with Charissa: Two agents, one dressed to blend in with a crowd and the other with a vest and weapon. B.A. had taken what they needed from the two agents, IDs, weapons, and the vest, and left the men in the alley Face and Kyle had fought in, with several bottles of booze on the ground beside them.
The image was that of two drunkards who'd had a little too much beer and passed out. By the time the police were called, the second agent was barely awake and still drugged up enough on B.A.'s flight medicine that he honestly couldn't remember what had happened. Kyle had still been out cold and drooling in his friend's lap. Bosco told them the whole story when he came back from surveillance. The overall result of this was that the team had what they needed to get into the VA and Kyle and his partner were spending a few nights in the slammer while the police got things figured out.
With his mind in 'mission mode,' Face had managed to catch a few hours of sleep at least, using the 'nap when you can, where you can' skills he'd learned as a soldier. The next day they'd started right in on reviewing the plan. Hannibal had made it quick and efficient, forgoing the usual dramatic flair in favor of a more militaristic, precise extraction.
Face had gotten Hannibal a plain business suit like the one the agent had been wearing and the lieutenant was now going over the plan in his head as he waited for Hannibal to finish touching up his hair with dye. The Colonel's silver grey was too recognizable and Face had managed to scrounge up some brown dye, a fake nose and some professional makeup to apply it with, along with the weapons he'd 'confiscated' from the gun shop down the street.
Face was pacing back and forth in the hotel room, wearing a black tee, dark cargo pants and a belt of ammo. He knew he looked suspicious and that was kind of the point. Lynch wasn't one for subtlety and a pair of business men was way, way too subtle for him. In that guy's mind, 'agent' meant 'ninja' and any regular looking agent he sent into the field would inevitably be accompanied by a heavily armed 'ninja.' That left Face to take the armed bodyguard position.
Ordering his thoughts, he went over the plan again.
Step One: Enter the building at eight-o-clock sharp – as Lynch's letter had said – where the fake IDs and Hannibal's disguise should be enough to get him and Face past the guards.
Step Two: While Hannibal distracts Brenner, Face moves off to search the treatment rooms. If he's not in one of the regular rooms-
Face closed his eyes, willing himself to remain calm…
If he's not in one of those rooms then he's probably being questioned. He will proceed to whichever part of the VA appears the most heavily under guard, guided by Bosco who would be hacked into the surveillance cameras by then.
Step Two and a Half: If the agent's clearance isn't high enough to get him into the guarded area, he takes out the guards with weapons and a little good old-fashioned Ranger training. That's when the clock really starts ticking.
Step Three: After finding Murdock, they make their way to the first floor, Murdock's room if possible, and signal B.A. to take out the patrolling guards so they can escape through the nearest window. If that doesn't work, they shoot their way out and get to the van any way they could.
They had a total of maybe half an hour before Hannibal ran out of lines to feed the guards and Brenner… less than that if Brenner was alert and wary enough to see through the disguise. Face considered this one of the worst plans to date but it was a plan and he wasn't going to wait for a better one to come along. They didn't have the time for that. One little slip could mean the difference between bringing Murdock home and getting them all killed… and even with that danger staring him in the face, (no pun intended) Face couldn't stop thinking about the horrors in Brenner's past, his own nightmares, that phone call….
"I d-… I don't like it here n'y more."
I know buddy, we're trying, Face thought back.
"I wanna come home, Temp… please, please, please… I wanna come home."
I'm coming, just hang in there. Just a little longer.
"… kay, Facey."
"Face?"
"Face?" Hannibal's voice jolted him from his thoughts and he looked up to find himself staring into concerned blue eyes. "You okay, kid?" Face nodded.
"Yeah…" he swallowed, forcing the fear out of his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get going." He started toward the van but a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"We'll get him back, Face." He looked over his shoulder at the Colonel, surprised yet somehow reassured by the steely glint in the older man's eyes. "I promise you that." He clapped Face on the shoulder and moved toward the van, pulling out another cigar for the trip. "Let's go get our boy."
"An' pity the fools that get in our way…" B.A. growled, following Hannibal and passing Face the agent's tac vest before getting in himself. Face felt a slow smile spread across his lips.
I'm comin', Murdock, he thought and somewhere in his mind, a memory answered.
"…kay, Facey."