AN: It's getting intense, guys! Thank you so so much for your continued love for this story! I especially appreciate those of you who faithfully read and follow this story. You make it such a joy to write. Enjoy this chapter!

Warning: violence

When Chin said that she probably wouldn't like his idea, she didn't expect him to be understating it.

She didn't just 'not like it.' She hated it.

"Seriously, cuz? This is your brilliant play?"

He shot her a side eye as they both stared at the metal door. "If you'd think about it for more than two seconds, you'd see that it's our best option. He's cooperated before and he'll cooperate again. Hopefully. Not to mention that this happens to be his area of expertise."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got that the first fifty times you said it. But why do I gotta be here for this?"

"Because as you so aptly pointed out, Kingsley's kidnapping us one by one. I like our chances much better if we stick together, don't you?" A faux-innocent expression plastered on his face, he dared to add one last dry comment. "Besides, he seems to like you. Maybe that'll make him talk."

Rolling her eyes, she scowled at him. "Hardy har har. Where was this brevity when you kicked the crap out of my first boyfriend?"

"He was a player and a scumbag, Kono. I was doing you a favor."

"But you're totally fine with a convicted - -"

The buzz of an electric lock cut her off, both returning their attention to the metal door at the other end of the room. Bracing herself, Kono schooled her expression as the door opened to reveal a familiar figure in an orange jumpsuit with a guard guiding him into the room.

"Heyyyy, it's hot an' spicy in here! Just couldn't stay away from all dis, eh?" Smirking, the convict somehow managed to saunter over to the chair despite the fetters around his ankles. "If we're gonna get busy, you're gonna have to take these bracelets off. Restricts my movements, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"Watch it," Chin growled.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" Looking around in mock concern, he shot Chin a smirk that rivaled Steve's. "I don't see no ashtray lyin' around that you can hit me with this time, cop."

"Sit down and shut up or you're gonna have bigger problems than a spontaneous attack from an ashtray." From years on the professional surfing circuit, she mastered a 'I won't hesitate to gut you alive' glare that made weak-willed suspects pee their pants.

Unfortunately, Sang Min wasn't one of those people.

He smirked and plopped down in the metal chair across the table. "And to think I thought you were some poor, scared girl. This is so much more sexy."

"Keep it up and you'll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life."

Motioning the guard out of the room, Chin waited until the door closed before pulling out his favorite gadget. He scrambled the camera's audio and shot Sang Min a smirk of his own. "Congratulations, bruddah. You get a chance to fractionally redeem yourself for all the scumbag acts you've committed."

Licking his lips, the former snakehead leader slithered his shoulders. "I thought I already did it when I gave up the dirty cop for your haole. So you're gonna have to do a little better than that, de-tec-tive."

Kono rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Sentence reduction, change of venue, and fresh seafood delivered to my cell twice a week."

"How about you get none of those things," Chin leaned forward and rested his hands on the table, a falsely congenial smile on his face, "and instead, I promise not to spread word that you're a rat and keep you trapped in general population?"

Eyes flitting nervously from side-to-side, Sang Min's jaw dropped. "You serious, brah?"

"As a heart attack." Sighing, Chin relented a bit. "We'll also put you in protective custody, move up your parole timeline by 2 years, and let you see your wife and son on the outside after our case is over. That good enough?"

"Depends on what you want me to tell you."

Kono took over, easily sliding into an interrogative tone. "Do you still have contacts in the human trafficking trade?"

Ever an annoyance, Sang Min leered in her direction. "I don't know nothing about no trafficking, Spicy. But even if I did, I wouldn't give up my boys. I'm a loyal man."

"Uh huh, sure. So the name 'Brad Kingsley' means nothing to you?"

And for the first time ever, the smirk fell off Sang Min's face.

Straightening, he shook his head with an expression too serious for the man's normally sneering face. "I can't help you."

"Can't?" Kono pressed, sensing a sliver of a doorway. "Or won't?"

"Doesn't matter. I may be good looking and daring, but I'm not suicidal. You could give me a 'get outta jail free' card and I still wouldn't take it." Shuddering slightly, he dropped his gaze. "No one crosses him and lives to tell about it."

Chin drummed his fingers on the table. "Sounds like he's the type of guy who needs to be taken down. Plus, wouldn't it benefit your business to have him gone?"

"Can't run a business if you're dead." Eyes flitting to the camera in the corner, Sang Min's voice dropped. "He's got everyone on his payroll: HPD, government officials, people in hospitals, prison guards. Take some of my free advice and let this one go."

Exchanging a quick glance, Chin nodded slightly and motioned for Kono to go ahead. "We can't let it go," she admitted flatly, measuring her words. "He sent a little girl to commit multiple murders. He's kidnapping and using children for criminal activities and selling others out to the highest bidder."

"What if that was your son?" Chin piggybacked Kono's plea. "Would you want us to let it go then?"

Sang Min shifted in his seat, still unnaturally serious. Still, she could see him wavering, fear the only thing holding him back. "It's not like that, man. You don't understand."

"Oh, I think we do." Chin opened his hand, subtly flashing the tiny, handheld device. "This thing scrambles the camera's audio and any bugs that might be in the room. Plus, we're calling in at least 5 other known traffickers and asking them the exact same stuff. Your back is to the camera, so no one can tell if you're talking or not. Kingsley's gonna have nothing to go on - he won't know where the leak came from."

"And we plan on bringing him down before he gets the chance to find out there was any leak at all." Fire roiling in her gut, Kono clenched her fists and forced her tone to remain even. "If you tell us everything you know, that'll happen a whole lot faster."

Sang Min hesitated, apprehension still radiating off of his body language. If they didn't know just how dangerous Kingsley was before, this interaction certainly cemented it. Down two men, this was shaping up to be a David and Goliath battle.

"None of this will come back to me?"

"If it looks like it will, then we'll deal with it." He didn't need to know how useless that promise was. Given the current state of Five-0, they weren't really able to deal with much of anything at the moment.

Finally, Sang Min relented. Keeping his body language relaxed for the cameras, he maintained a low tone despite Chin's assurance that no one could hear him. "Kingsley deals in elites - mainly kids, I guess. Officials turn a blind eye or even help 'cause they don't like elites and they love money. Every once in a while, I get someone who starts flashing fancy powers and I'd call him. Never had the resources to contain an elite, but he did. Plus," he added, "he paid me real good for it."

"When that happened, how'd you make the drop?" Chin asked.

"It depended on the situation, brah. He sent me a location an' a time, and I'd go with the merchandise. He never came himself though unless it was a powerful elite. Usually, he just sent some of his goons and the doctor chick."

"Doctor?" Kono demanded.

But Sang Min only smirked. "Man, you guys really don't know anything, do you? He got some doctor lady - brunette, wears glasses, boring as hell, don't know her name. Once, I watched her cut open a kid and stick something in their neck right in front of me." Shuddering, he raised his hands, palms out. "Creepy, right?"

Resisting the urge to comment that Sang Min had no right to call someone creepy, she redirected the conversation. "How many guards does he have on the ship?"

"How should I know? I ain't never been on it. I only seen it from a distance. But he's got a lot and they're professionals. Plus, he's paying everybody and their auntie on this island. You're takin' on an empire here."

"It sounds like you don't know much at all." Frustration was creeping into her cousin's normally-placid tone. "We need facts and hard evidence to take him down!"

"Hey, hey, who do you think you're talkin' to?" Sang Min spread his arms as wide as the cuffs would allow and grinned. "I got the jackpot, bruddah. Kingsley keeps records, man, of everyone he pays. He brags about it all the time to scare people into not talkin'. But they're only accessible on the main computer on his ship where he keeps the merchandise - - I mean, the kids. It's super encrypted and shit like that."

"But you have no idea where this ship is?"

"I'm stuck here! How am I supposed to know where some random boat is?" Pausing, he tilted his head and sent a leering glance in Kono's direction. "But for you, spicy, I'll give up a little secret. I know where he's gonna be."

Smiling sweetly, Kono's words came through gritted teeth. "Start talking before I shoot you and claim it was insanity induced."

Sang Min whistled, then relented when Chin waved the sonic scrambler in his face. "Once a year, he has a lil 'showcase event' with his biggest partners. I got invited once or twice but never went - was busy in ShangHai at the time. He dishes off some of his merch and outlines some of the new talent he's acquired that they can rent out. It's a big ass party on his private yacht, and his ship is nearby so he can transport elites back and forth."

"What's the name of the yacht?"

"The Clark Kent." Grinning, the trafficker dropped his hands back down to his lap. "No joke. It's impressive, so I've been told."

Exchanging a weighted glance with her cousin, she asked, "Where is this happening?"

But Sang Min only shrugged. "The coordinates are never the same. But he always has it in Hawaiian waters, then he moves off to international waters. Probably your only shot to take him out."

"When?"

Pausing, the trafficker dropped his ever-present smirk and met her gaze steadily. "Thursday night. Three days from today."

~H50-

Three days was not nearly enough time and Chin knew it.

Neither one of them could claim to be in top form, which is exactly what they needed to be to take down Kingsley's immense empire single handedly. They were both running on fumes, signs of exhaustion evident in Kono's dragging steps and pinched expression. His own body begged for reprieve - however brief - and it took him a little longer to push it aside each time he tried.

Plus, the Governor called every few hours to demand updates and ask where Steve was, which further cut into their already-tiny window. Clearly, she didn't buy their whole 'we split up in order to close both cases' story - she knew them too well for that. However, she didn't call them out on it either, which Chin remained utterly grateful for.

At the same time, three days was too much time and Chin knew that as well. Danny had already been missing for nearly two full days and Steve for one. A waiting period of three days could be the difference between life and death for their friends.

Back at the Palace after the futile interviews of six more inmates to smokescreen Sang Min, Kono was once again sweeping the office for bugs while he ran a malware scan on all of the computers. Both of their cars appeared to be clear. Moreover, a check of Danny's gas tank showed diesel gas in his tank as well.

So Steve had been the lone target - a precise operation, not one of opportunity. Evidently, even the bad guys didn't know which car was Steve's.

Taking another sip of the scalding coffee in hopes it would jolt him awake, Chin blinked at the nearly-finished progress bar. So far, no malware had been found, which led him to believe that Kingsley hadn't thought that far ahead. The lack of bugs in Kono's search seemed to support that theory.

He wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved or insulted.

"The office is clear," Kono announced, carrying an extra-large coffee mug in one hand and the bug sweeper in the other.

The Smart Table beeped to signal the end of the network's malware scan and Chin nodded in satisfaction. "So are our computers. We've still got a small advantage, at least."

"Yeah, maybe. Doesn't seem like much of an advantage, though."

That was easily the understatement of the century. Thanks to the valuable information from Sang Min, they now knew more about Kingsley's operation. However, they still lacked any sort of idea on how they would take him down with no support from anyone.

And they couldn't just take out Kingsley. The entire organization needed to be wiped off the face of the planet, something that was nigh impossible for only two people to do. Moreover, the added element of protecting the abilities of the innocent children stolen from safety made the situation even more complicated.

Oh, and how could he forget his own teammates currently held prisoner by the trafficker? Both relied on a level of anonymity and secrecy about their abilities to perform their jobs - they all did. A takedown of Kingsley would reveal their status to the world.

No matter how he framed this, it wasn't going to be pretty.

Puffing a drawn-out sigh, he gritted his teeth and gathered his thoughts. "Alright, let's lay it all out - old school. I want objectives, needs, resources, obstacles, and opportunities laid out."

It was an exercise he used often once he made detective at HPD, one that helped him sort out cases and operations from a wide variety of perspectives. When a puzzle seemed unsolvable, it was best to step back and look at the big picture. This exercise did precisely that, and it was one of the first things he taught Kono when she graduated from the academy.

Kono was back in an instant with a stack of sticky notes as he wrote the appropriate category labels on a nearby whiteboard. "Objectives?" he asked, accepting half the stack and a pen from the rookie.

"Arrest Kingsley," she answered immediately, then jotted it down and stuck it on the board.

Or kill him, he added mentally. It wasn't a good choice or his first choice, but he knew the realities of the system all too well. Kingsley could do significant damage - especially to his ohana - if left alive.

"Find Steve and Danny," he said aloud, shoving the dark thoughts away for now. "We also need to find the kids Kingsley kidnapped and get them to safety. What else?"

Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Kono hesitated briefly before writing something else down. "Sang Min said that Kingsley kept extensive records. If we can get those, then we'll have details of his entire network."

His cousin never ceased to amaze him. Adding that sticky note to the growing list, he nodded in satisfaction. "That'll set us up to take down everyone. Unfortunately, we also need to protect these kids, who will also be present in those records. It's gonna be messy."

"We'll figure it out." Kono patted his shoulder, then turned back to the board. "What's next?"

Several hours and dozens of sticky notes later, they stood back and stared at the full whiteboard. Every conceivable variable - no matter how small - was up there somewhere. Now, if only it were possible to make sense of it all.

Rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to rid himself of an inevitable migraine, Chin eyed the single note under the Opportunities header. Sang Min's tip was all they had, and it wasn't much. They didn't know the time, the location, or much of anything beyond a rough timeline for it.

But it was the only option. One shot with everything to lose or half of their ohana would disappear for good.

He sighed and skipped over the insanely long list under the Obstacles header - far too many to even begin to tackle. Much of it revolved around the many unknowns of the case - unknown number of captives, unknown number of guards, the name of the cargo ship, locations, how to disable all of the chips in the kids so they wouldn't be used as leverage in their attack - -

Wait a second.

"Kono," his tone was slow and even, not daring to hope as an idea flickered to life, "did you have Charlie analyze the chip Dr. Sterling removed from Sarah?"

The rookie nodded, brow furrowed. "Yeah, I asked him to keep it on the down low and not file a report. He's still working on it, but his preliminary results showed that it emitted low voltage electrical shocks when activated by some sort of remote signal."

"Did he find anything that resembled a GPS tracker on it?"

"Yeah…"

Then Kono's eyes widened as Chin's hint of an idea took shape. "Yeah," she breathed again, understanding dawning on her face. "He said it was unusually long-range for such a small transmitter, but he didn't really focus on that."

"Call him. Tell him we need a full readout on the chip, specifically focusing on the GPS." Finally risking a grin, he welcomed the swell of hope stirring in his chest. "If we can tap into that frequency, we'll have a location of everyone within that tracking range with a chip."

"So we'll get the location of Kingsley's ship!" Kono finished, her own smile matching his. However, it fell far too quickly. "But the ship is probably out of range."

"We'll figure it out," Chin said fiercely. "We have to. This is all we've got."

Nodding, she spun on her heel and all but bolted for her office with her phone pressed against her ear. Forget coffee, this was the jolt of energy they needed. With renewed purpose, he scanned the board as his mind churned up possibilities.

One of his buddies - a solid guy who served in the Air Force as a chopper pilot - was the sergeant in charge of choppers and boats at HPD. He would most certainly be willing to help them get in range of the trackers if need be. That took care of the unknown location. Duke and Kamekona, whose names were at the top of their resources list, could undoubtedly find the Clark Kent and he could figure out a way to stick a tracker on it. Yachts needed to be docked and he doubted Kingsley would go to an enormous amount of trouble to hide the seemingly-innocent ship.

The more he looked at the board, the more the playing field seemed to level out. Their resources, though small, were mighty and determined. Though he'd never spoken to Catherine Rollins, one vague implication that Steve was in danger (without exposing the guy's abilities) would be more than enough to convince her to provide them with satellite footage. He was pretty sure Kamekona had a weapon's stash hidden somewhere that would no doubt be untraceable.

No, they might be down but they weren't out. Not by a long shot.

Fire burned in his chest and muscles bunched in unconscious preparation for what was to come. As a plan slowly pieced together in his head, a fierce, plotting sneer gradually creased his face. It'd take a whole lot of luck and more than a little cunning on their part, but the task no longer seemed impossible. In fact, he was almost looking forward to it.

Sure, it was still two people versus an army, but that hardly seemed to matter anymore. See, one of those people happened to be a water pureblood and Kingsley's operation was smack dab in the middle of her home turf. Kingsley would be better off surrendering now than face Kono when she decided not to pull her punches.

(and the other person was fiercely protective of the people he claimed as his, and Kingsley made the grievous error of harming two of those people.)

Kingsley had three days, then he was scheduled for an encounter with Five-0 - the real Five-0. And they were spitting mad.

~H50~

Danny didn't know how much time had passed since he'd landed in this screwed up situation and he hated it.

Part of the blame for the loss of the concept of passing time lay in his gradually deteriorating state. He couldn't remember feeling this awful in his entire life and he barely had the wherewithal to keep his feet as giant thugs dragged him from one place to another. His entire body ached from head to toe, a cacophony of escalating agony, but that wasn't the worst of it.

No, the worst of it was exhaustion so overwhelming that it hurt. The worst of it was the incessant feeling of wrongness in his body, each electrical shock and forced healing scrambled his organs and ripped apart his muscles. The worst of it was his body's growing dependence and simultaneous rejection of the electrical shocks and whatever artificial energy that doctor lady kept injecting in his veins.

Throw in the incessant nausea from the combination of being stuck on a boat in the middle of the Pacific freakin' Ocean and his power's side effects and it amounted to one complete picture of misery.

At one point, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror and internally cursed up a storm. No wonder Steve looked at him with such concern, such fear on his behalf.

Speaking of his partner, he hadn't seen Steve in… well, quite awhile. At least a day or two, he thought, maybe more. He managed to fall asleep at some point in that dark room curled into the warmth Steve offered (and no, they were never going to talk about that if he had anything to say about it), but shouting and rough hands woke him some time later. Weakly struggling before his eyes even opened, he earned nothing but another stinging backhand to the cheek.

Steve's enraged shout signaled his attempt to take on three guards with guns single handedly, but Danny had managed to raspily warn him off before the fool got himself shot. The last thing he'd seen before he was dragged out into the too-bright sunlight was Steve's furious and fearful face.

Of course, he'd seen Steve other times when Kingsley shoved a video feed of Steve kneeling with a gun pressed against his head in front of Danny's face. It happened far too frequently and it was really beginning to piss him off.

Or maybe his bad mood had something to do with Kingsley's evil doctor lady jabbing him with syringes every other minute. He never really liked doctors and medical stuff, but this experience took that hatred to a whole new level.

None of that was truly the issue, though. They were merely the results of his current situation, one that he was trying his very hardest not to think about at the moment. If he did, he would break down for certain and neither he nor Steve could afford that.

So, he did what he'd been doing since his father died at the hands of far clumsier traffickers than Kingsley. Taking the broken pieces of his shattered soul, he bundled them tightly in a cloak of anger that he wrapped around himself like a blanket. It was both a shield and a comfort.

Take now, for example.

"Get your hands off me!" he growled at McCallister, shoving her arm in a futile attempt to prevent her from wrapping yet another tourniquet around his bicep. Both arms were already bruised black from her numerous blood draws. "I'm not some practice dummy that you can stab with needles at your every whim, alright? Hands off!"

From across the cabin of the latest yacht Danny was dragged into, Kingsley's lips twitched in a vague frown. Clearly, he didn't approve of Danny's incessant need to talk, but he'd also cut back on the shock therapy by recommendation of the doctor after Danny seized for a third time. Punches and slaps were still in the playbook, but those hardly compared.

In Danny's mind, that was all the permission he needed to verbally protest every single thing he could think of. Sure, it was a futile endeavor and changed nothing about his current situation, but it made him feel slightly better. And thanks to the plethora of drugs and chemical stimulants McCallister pumped into him to keep him upright, he didn't even stutter.

Of course, they only enhanced the overwhelming feeling of wrongness in his body, but Kingsley hardly cared about that so long as Danny was functioning. He'd watched dispassionately when Danny puked and trembled violently after each injection.

Now, he only nodded at his loyal guards, who immediately descended on Danny. He got a few good hits in before he was roughly subdued and held down. McCallister ignored curses spat through gritted teeth from her 'patient' and clinically secured to tourniquet to begin the draw.

Kingsley watched it all with a slight smile on his stupidly smug face.

"You gonna leave any?" he snarked, fury bubbling in his gut. "Y'know, I can't exactly do anything if I pass out from blood loss."

All that earned him was a boulder-sized fist ramming into his solar plexus.

As he gasped for breath, he vaguely remembered a cartoon Grace watched. Though he'd never really paid attention, one scene played in his head in crystal clarity.

There was a boy on top of a mountain in a rainstorm, lightning flashing around him in alarmingly close proximity. But the boy stood unafraid, fists bunched as he screamed at the sky in a blatant dare. He challenged the lightning to hit him because life never hesitated to strike him down before.

When Danny first saw that scene, he chuckled at the drama of it all. Leave it to teenagers to assume the whole world was against them.

Now, he was beginning to understand where the kid was coming from.

For the first time since the initial medical examination on the cargo ship, Kingsley addressed Danny directly. "If you insist on continuing to hurl sarcasm at those with more rights than you, I will come up with a permanent solution for your snark. Believe me, you will not enjoy it."

"Those with more rights than me? Are you insane?" Ignoring the guards who still held him down, Danny decidedly ignored the order to shut up. "Lemme just tell you something, schmuck. Kidnapping doesn't give you some sort of elite status as a human being! In fact, it actually lands you in a cage with a little orange jumpsuit and you actually lose intrinsic human rights! And I'll be more than happy to personally escort you there when - -"

His very justified rant was interrupted by another guard (seriously, how many did Kingsley have?) opening the door and taking a step into the cabin. "He's here," he grunted.

"Excellent. Give us a few more moments, then show him in."

Swallowing hard, Danny knew exactly what was coming next. Still, there was absolutely nothing he could do when Kingsley pulled out his phone, tapped a few buttons, then flipped it around so Danny could see the screen. "I suppose I don't need to remind you what will happen if you don't cooperate fully, do I?"

"No, I got it the other six times you pulled this routine." He wasn't exactly sure if it was six times, but he vaguely remembered seeing at least one sunset and Kingsley mentioned three appointments for that first day. Maybe it was more. He didn't know or particularly care anymore.

Still, he stared at the video feed of his partner kneeling with a gun pointed at his head. But this time, something new caught his eye. Bruises littered his face and Steve held himself stiffly, a tell-tale sign of pain.

"Care to tell me why my friend looks like he took a beating? Because lemme just say, my cooperation is dependent on him being unharmed, Kingsley."

Unbothered, Kingsley smiled sickeningly. "I can do whatever I choose with my property. As you can see, he's still alive and will remain so if you do as you're told. But if you have a problem with that, then I'll just have him shot now and - -"

"Alright, alright!" Danny growled before he could stop himself, hating himself all the more as he acquiesced yet again. "I got the picture, okay?"

"Excellent. I'm so glad we're on the same page." Rising, the snake of a man smirked. "Eventually, you will realize that resistance is futile and I will no longer need to resort to these… theatrics."

Throat bobbing, he did his best to ignore McCallister's freezing fingers lifting up his shirt and placing wireless leads on his chest. Two guards yanked him to his feet, their fingers digging into his biceps in such a way that would certainly leave bruises. Swaying as his head protested the move, he blinked away stars and accepted the gray ski mask from the guy on his left.

Kingsley was extra-cautious in regards to the safety of his new toy. He forced Danny to don the ski mask to ensure that none of his clients knew the elite's identity in case one decided to try to take Danny for himself. Though Danny hated the sentiment behind it, he appreciated fewer people tying his identity with his abilities.

If they got out of this, maybe the fallout wouldn't be as bad. Maybe.

Before he was ready, he was prodded into the main cabin of the yacht. Lined with furniture and art too fancy to be on a boat, it painted an impressive picture of wealth and power. Kingsley stood with his personal entourage at the far end chatting with a shorter Oriental man, two guards flanking him. The conversation appeared amicable, but it ended as soon as Kingsley caught sight of Danny.

"Shall we begin?" he said cordially, gesturing towards the ornate chairs nearby. Though he was attempting to be suave, the scumbag still managed to be utterly slimy about the whole thing.

The unknown Oriental man half-bowed in Kingsley's direction before settling in one of the chairs. Kingsley sat in the other, then motioned Danny forward. "Mr. Yang, I understand you are suffering from pancreatic cancer."

"That is correct," came the soft yet regal reply. "My doctors are pessimistic about treatment options. Yet you claim to have the solution to my problem."

Blah, blah, blah. Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. These guys were all the same - posturing, thinly-veiled threats, et cetera. It wasn't as impressive as they seemed to think it was.

Sure enough, Kingsley smirked slightly before schooling his expression. "Solutions to unsolvable problems are my primary product, as you well know. This is no exception."

"We shall we, won't we?"

The guard pushing him towards the seated men was really beginning to annoy Danny. He resisted the urge to snap at the man, not willing to risk further damage being doled out to his undeserving partner. Judging from Kingsley's slight amusement flitting across his face, he knew exactly why Danny quietly complied with every order.

The client - Mr. Yang - eyed Danny with unabashed interest, staring at him with little regard for the rules of polite society. All of Kingsley's associates looked at him like that and his skin crawled each time he encountered it. It once again iterated that Danny was nothing more than an object in their minds and it only reinforced his determination to take them all down.

Kingsley folded his hands in his lap, a clear sign of impatience, and Danny's fingers twitched as he took Yang's hand. Immediately, the sickening sensation of dying cells assaulted him, screaming at him to pull away. A sharp ache stabbed his upper abdomen and his nausea doubled. Then came the internal demand for his energy to fix it - reserves that were long since spent.

He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't.

"Well?" Mr. Yang inquired, his skepticism directed at Kingsley despite Danny standing right in front of him. "Is something supposed to happen?"

So much for stalling. Time was up.

Reluctantly, he began targeting the sick cells and renewing them. The dreaded cold consumed him, weakening his knees and yanking him towards the cliffs of unconsciousness. Everything in his very being resisted this expenditure, his body threatening to tear itself apart as Danny the last remnants of himself.

As the pain of his sickness practically drowned his unwilling savior, that bastard Yang smiled with something that could only be described as pure ecstacy. Somehow, that hurt more than the pain transference.

His knees wobbled when he finally pulled his hand free, threatening to send him crashing to the floor. Eyes slipping shut against the incessant vertigo, he could feel Yang's amazed stare and Kingsley's lustful sneer, but he lacked the energy to care.

"Incredible." The voice sounded tinny and distant, like his ears had suddenly cut to half power. "I had my doubts, but you continue to surprise me."

Hands grabbed him under the armpits just in time even as Kingsley smugly replied, "I'm pleased you appreciate the addition to my business, Mr. Yang. I believe the others at the auction will agree with you."

"Name your price."

"I'm not in the habit of selling off my most prized possessions, Mr. Yang. However, the going rate of the service will be determined at the auction. In the meantime, I'll settle for the other half of the promised payment."

"Of course."

He flinched when a freezing wipe swiped against his upper arm, a brief prelude to the sensation of a needle jabbing his skin. As the sickening warmth of yet another drug flooded his system, he desperately reached for the now-fleeing cradle of unconsciousness.

The drugs did nothing to ease his suffering - they only enhanced it. In the end, all of the doctor's 'treatments' did nothing but banish the sole comfort he had left. Moreover, whatever the hell she kept pumping into his system was rapidly losing its effectiveness and the only thing keeping him on his feet were the two guards' tight grips.

If Kingsley kept pushing him like this, his 'most prized possession' was gonna croak before the week was up.

Still, the stimulants gave him the burst of energy he needed. Allowing himself to slump, he waited until the guards grabbed his biceps before making his move. And, as a kid who tended to be shorter than all of his tormentors growing up, he had no problem fighting dirty.

After a few jabs with his elbow to rather sensitive anatomy, he was off sprinting towards the speedboat moored to the larger yacht.

Of course, he never stood a chance - he knew that from the moment he tried it. This escape attempt was purely on principle - unless it worked, of course.

However, the jolt from the stimulant was gone in a flash, and his wobbling knees would've probably sent him crashing to the deck if a guard's thick forearm didn't beat them to it.

Head swimming, it took far too long for him to realize that he was moving - or, more correctly, being moved - from the wooden deck. Prying his eyes open, he caught a glimpse of the narrow walls of a hallway before his stomach protested the constant spinning of the outside world. He could vaguely hear McCallister rattling off reading and asking him questions, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a low groan.

I just wanna go home.

Hell, he'd even take Hawaii at this point no matter how much he hated the sun-bleached rock from hell.

The ski mask was pulled off and fingers roughly peeled open his eyelids. "His body's rejecting the stimulants," came McCallister's voice from what seemed like outer space. "That was extremely unwise, Daniel. Mr. Kingsley will not be pleased."

No shit, Sherlock.

"Put him in the hold for now. I'll run tests once Mr. Kingsley returns, and he'll deal with this act of rebellion."

Not bothering to attempt to get his feet underneath him, Danny allowed the guards to drag him down the narrow flight of stairs. He took a small amount of pleasure from the sound of them cursing his boneless weight, even though it meant that they were less than careful with his floppy limbs. The pain of his body thumping against sharp corners paled in comparison to the pain of healing Yang's cancer.

It barely hurt when the guards threw him into the tiny, dark hold. A thin pad did little to cushion his fall and his head smacked against a jutting corner of the wall, and the ensuing warm trickle of blood tickled his overly-sensitive skin. Lacking the energy to brush it away, he simply curled up on his side and wrapped his arms around his trembling torso.

This would be the rest of his life, he realized. No more than an object in Kingsley's warped mind, the trafficker would continue to bleed him dry until there was nothing left to give. And if he figured out that the transfer ran both ways…

Well, Danny would rather die than allow that to happen.

For perhaps the thousandth time in his life, Danny cursed whatever stroke of fate had made him an elite. These powers weren't a gift, they never were and only a fool would think so. Screw being special. It had cost him everything.

His father, his friend, his partner, his marriage, his daughter, his newfound family, and soon enough it'd cost him Steve. His best friend.

As he drifted into the realm between restful sleep and the waking world, he pictured the boy on top of the mountain with tears streaming down his face as he hurled insults at the stormy sky.

Only this time, Danny was right beside him, challenging the lightning at the top of his lungs with trembling fists and tear-stained cheeks.

Maybe it wasn't so dramatic after all.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, another AtlA reference. I just can't help myself :) Also, Sang Min was such a blast to write. It's all coming together now, so get ready for a wild ride. Thanks for reading!