Just one teeny tiny chapter for now because…long day on the farm, everything's hurting and we're off to a wedding. It's such a nice feeling to watch dear friends tie the knot. Definitely a welcome distraction from all the drama surrounding us all.

ACT IV

The TV in the kitchen had slowly pulled him out of his deep trance. The words that were being said by the news anchor awakened something in the back of his mind, but he couldn't focus enough to know what it was.

The floor beneath him, even the air surrounding him had turned cold, causing goosebumps on his skin. Blinking his burning eyes a few times, Steve noted traces of dried tears on his cheeks but couldn't remember from what.

"As you can see in the picture, Inspector Stephen Keller is described as Caucasian male, thirty-two years old, five-foot ten, 160lbs, green eyes, medium length light brown hair. He was last seen wearing a black suit with a white dress-shirt and a bright red tie. He would have been equipped with a .38 Service revolver, handcuffs and his police badge."

He knew instinctively that these words had a deep meaning, that they should set off alarm bells, but nothing came to mind.

Staring at the light gray walls ahead, Steve tried to move his head, finding that his neck had become stiff from his uncomfortable position on the ground.

"Missing along with Inspector Keller is a chartreuse four door Sedan, a 1973 Ford Galaxy with light green interior, California license plate 3G5 LL9. According to Chief Condon from the San Francisco Police Department, at the time of the kidnapping, there would have been several file folders on the passenger seat."

File folders. Galaxy. Words that used to have some significant meaning to him, but somehow, now, were fading from his mind.

"This is Salvador Tidari, with Channel Twelve News. As you can see behind me, the parking lot to the Hall of Justice Building in Downtown San Francisco is overfilled with cars, as detectives and patrolman alike stream in to assist the Homicide Department on their search for the illusive murder suspect Albert Mulligan. Judging by this commotion you would think this was a new case, but in fact, Mulligan has been roaming the Streets of San Francisco as a free man for over a month now, thus far killing four young men, with a fifth one missing since Wednesday. However, it wasn't until Lieutenant Mike Stone's partner, Inspector Stephen Keller was also kidnapped, that police significantly upped their staffing on this case, diligently preaching to find the killer before he can murder his two victims."

"Mike…"

The name felt strangely soothing when he said it. Words such as unconditional trust, devotion and deep friendship came to mind. And somehow, the more he said it, the better he felt.

"Mike…"

"Will you please just shut up? I can't hear that name anymore…That's all you've been mumbling for hours. How much of this drug did that crazy woman give you?!"

The raspy voice behind him brought Steve to his senses and he rolled onto his back, and then carefully shifted to his left shoulder to face the man.

Tied up against the radiator, the other man's wrists were rubbed raw from the continuous strain. Glancing up, Steve noticed that he too was tied up. Looking at the handcuffs, another memory popped up in his brain.

Pushing a man against the hood of the Galaxy, before reaching for the cuffs on his belt and tying his suspect's hands.

The Galaxy. The handcuffs. Authority. He was the authority. But what was he doing cuffed to the radiator now?

"Oh man, you're looking bad. She's got you drugged up to your eyeballs, doesn't she?"

The man across from him looked scared, his eyes haunted as he glanced around the room, seemingly looking for help. And for some strange reason, Steve felt sure that he was supposed to be one helping him.

Their one-sided conversation was disrupted by two sets of footsteps approaching from the kitchen.

Glancing up as much as the restraints allowed, Steve saw a friendly looking red-haired woman and a burly man walk toward them decisively. As he tried to use his legs to push himself into a near sitting position, the woman quickly knelt down beside him, her gentle hands massaging his shoulders to get him to lie down again.

"Relax puppet, you've been through a lot. You need to rest."

Accepting the slight pressure, Steve leaned back against the floor, resting his aching head in the crease of his elbow for the time being. As a reward, the warm hand gently brushed through his hair again, before caressing his face. As the soothing voice behind him fell into a mantra-like singsong, he felt his tired muscles relax, until he started to become sleepy.

"Time for you to go away…", the heavy-set man noted gruffly and Steve saw him bend over his new friend. With his back toward him, all he could hear was a yelp of pain and the high-pitched swishing of metal on metal.

"Help me! Please!", came the desperate plea from behind the wide back shielding his sight, and Steve tried to sit up straight again, every instinct inside screaming for him to move.

"Easy, Puppet, settle down now."

The stern warning from behind was followed by delicate fingers digging into his shoulders to try to push him back down. But the wheezing and thrashing noises coming from a few feet away alarmed him enough to keep fighting.

"Puppet, settle down!"

The once soothing voice had turned cold and calculated now, the hands on his shoulders trembling slightly, as a kick to the back of his knee unceremoniously sent him back to the floor.

"You need to stay still!"

As he continued to fight the restraints, the hands suddenly let go and he could hear frantic footsteps returning to the kitchen. Ceasing the opportunity, Steve pulled himself up to a sitting position, high enough to see his friend's lifeless body pushed against the radiator, his blank, bloodshot eyes staring back at him in heart wrenching guilt.

"No…NO!"

Not the least bit affected by his commotion, the large man tightened the metal wire around his friends neck relentlessly, never giving in, even when small trickles of blood began to appear beneath the skin around his throat.

"No…stop it!", he begged and jerked on the handcuffs holding him in place, until the entire radiator began to shake.

"Susan, what is taking you so long?!", the burly man barked in unmasked frustration, his cold brown eyes running back and forth between both men on the floor.

Finally, the hasty footsteps returned from the kitchen, along with the glug-glugging noise of fluids being dumped out of a bottle. Interrupting his violent protest for a moment, Steve glanced around in time to see the woman pour the clear contents of a glass bottle onto a white rag.

"I am sorry puppet, but you won't listen…", she said almost remorsefully, before setting the bottle with its remaining liquid onto the nearby table, "You are not adapting well to being with us…"

Kneeling down behind him once again, Steve was powerless to fight the damp cloth being placed over his nose and mouth, the pungent odor making his eyes tear up instantly.

Within the first couple of breaths, Steve felt his lungs burn and scream for much needed oxygen. The woman behind him used her free hand to tilt his head back against her chest, opening his airways to take in more of the poison, while forcing him to take his eyes off the sight of his lifeless friend just a few feet away.

As his limbs grew heavier with every forced breath he took, Steve felt his legs give out from underneath him. Following his every move as he slowly collapsed back onto the floor, the lady released a stressed sigh, before clearing her throat again.

"Are you done, Al?"

There was that cold and calculating voice again that sent shudders down his back. Looking over at the burly man as best as he could in his current predicament, Steve froze in his spot when he stood up, revealing the still form of his friend leaning against the radiator, his lifeless eyes staring straight ahead now, as the crimson stains around his neck grew in size, the wire still carelessly draped around him.

Feeling a bout of panic rise within as the man approached him, his condescending eyes staring down at him like a piece of roadkill, Steve tried to move but found that it was no longer possible.

With the pungent fumes burning his throat, he was forced to give up the fight, as his eyes began to roll to the back of his head, his mind welcoming the blissful darkness that laid ahead.

"I don't think I like this one either, Al.", the lady behind him said disappointedly and held the rag tighter against his face, "He's pretty, but he's got too much fight in him. Plus, his face is all over the news. We should get rid of him too and maybe you can find me someone else again, hun? Pretty please?"