Mac was jumping awake as he felt cold water on his face. With a shock of the sudden cold he sucked in a breath – thank god, no nitrogen this time.

Wearily his head lolled to the side, eyes still closed. He felt a few slaps on his cheeks. Not hard, but hard enough to actually bring him back to reality. A reality Mac didn't like.

He still felt the chair beneath him, so he hadn't been moved. A hasty glimpse showed him his guards, still standing. So he wasn't out this long. Actually he felt like was out like a few seconds, as his body was still screaming for oxygen. His breath rattled.

"Now talk?"

His torturer came in his line of sight. Mac's eyes and brain were still too dazed to actually process what was happening right in front of him, so he felt like seeing through the guy.

As he tried to form a word with his lips, he felt the iron grip once again. So his time for an answer was up now.

No!

With a last effort Mac drew in a large amount of air and then kept his breath. Again the man noticed and pulled strong at Mac's hair, but Mac knew it was coming. Although his brain was still a mess, his body was on survival mode. And with a brain still not able to fully process his surroundings, he didn't feel the pain as hard as it was. His body jerked a little bit in pain, but Mac managed not to breath. Only a little whimper made it out of his throat.

The man growled. His hands changed position and found their way right to Mac's jaw and stretched his head back even more. Mac kept his eyes clenched his eyes shut. It started to hurt like hell. And there was still his urge to breath.

No!

He started to shake his head violently. Blond strands fell into his face. He felt the grip hardening around his chin in order to keep his head in place, but Mac just didn't want to. He couldn't bring himself to breath once again. But his lungs were on fire and his neck hurt so much.

As his hands were still taped to the chair, he started to kick out with his legs. He felt his right foot connecting with something and then a scream of pain was in the air. But Mac was too focused not to breath and free himself from the mask he didn't even waste a thought for his little triumph. Instead he was jerked up even more, so his butt wasn't even connecting with the chair.

And this was the point when he breathed.

Immediately the effect came. The feeling of filling his lungs with a gas that felt like water in him. Mac's eyes flew open as he sucked in more and more of the nitrogen. Searching for a point to focus his eyes on, his visions became blurry again. As his eyes started to roll back, he felt the mask removed from his face. But the iron grip remained. His head started to loll a bit but was forced back up. His eye lids dropped half way down, short gasps. His heart was racing like crazy, Mac was close to hyperventilating.

A harsh dark voice made it's way to his ears. He didn't get the meaning and was about to answer to the not heard question as he recognized the man didn't talk to him. Instead he felt his feet being grabbed by strong hands and spread wide. Mac panicked as he heard the sound of tape being ripped of. With fast movements his feet were tied to the chair. The grip disappeared and Mac knew it was pointless. None or less he tried to kick out once again to find his feet unable to move. Tears started to fill his tired eyes.

Jack, where are you?

With the harsh grip to his chin he was unable to move now. He jerked his shoulders around but it didn't bring him anything good. Again he began to shake his head wildly.

No!

The mask was back on, Mac trashing around. The chair started to shake, but there was no giving in of his bindings. Mac panicked, felt his body hyperventilating, felt his eyes rolling back in their holes. His limbs began to tingle as a sign of his body going into shock.

This time he didn't even realized he faded out.

The next time he came around El Noche crouched in front of him. So after his little shock thing his man actually called for their boss. If Mac wouldn't feel like just coming back from the dead, he would laugh. So the gang was worried about their own methods.

"Feeling more talkative?"

Mac tried to focus on El Noche, his head was swimming. What was the question again he was forced to answer?

"Name?"

Ah! His name! All this stupid nitrogen-thing because of something lame as his name. Mac smirked. No way he was going to answer that!

El Noche seemed to understand. With a sigh he stood up. "You know what", he said with a broken English as he leaned over Mac. Mac slumped back in his chair. "I always thought you are clever, little American, you know, your way of breaking out was thought-out so well." He shook his head, "But you are the stupidest guy I've met. Getting yourself killed over a name."

With his finishing Mac's head was once again pulled back hard, the familiar pressure on his face. As he felt a little nitrogen entering his nose, he stopped his breathing immediately. The man made a tsk-sound. El Noche noticed as well.

"This is getting you nowhere, little American."

Oh, it was getting him somewhere. Even though Mac knew he wouldn't keep this up very long, it brought himself satisfaction. The satisfaction of bringing anger to El Noche.

The man holding Mac said something in Spanish, and El Noche leaned once again over Mac. Still holding his breath Mac glared at him. "So you did this a few times now?" A smile was forming in El Noche's face. He waved with his hand and the mask was pulled away. Surprise was written over Mac's face.

El Noche yelled a few words Mac didn't get and one of his men disappeared. Through his blurry vision Mac tried to follow him at first, but then used the short break to actually give his body a little rest. As he hadn't breathed in this much nitrogen, his lung was having almost full access to oxygen. With long deep breaths he drew in as much as possible, before the man came back. He was bringing something with him, an iron stick. Immediately Mac tensed and swallowed hard. A chill was running down his body.

"This will help you talking", El Noche commented as he pressed a button on the stick. Mac jolted as he heard the sound of electricity.

Oh God no!

Sweat was forming on his forehead as he saw the stick coming closer to his body. His breath sped up once again, his mind and body preparing for the incoming pain. Then his jaw was grabbed once again by the man behind him and stretched upwards. A surprised gasp made his way out of Mac's throat, then his world exploded.

The pain was immense!

Even though he had his eyes closed shut, he didn't see the normal black, everything was screaming white. He heard his own voice tearing the air as he tried to back away from the pain. Hell, it was so much pain! So much pain he couldn't even breath.

After what felt like hours but were merely seconds, the pain disappeared as fast as it had been coming and as Mac's scream ebbed out, his body still jerked with the last bit of the electrocution. Mac didn't have a single molecule of oxygen left in his lungs because of his scream, so he opened his mouth to draw a breath of air.

This was the moment the man was waiting for. Mac felt the mask pressed down hard on his face again as he breathed in deep. Now there was nitrogen everywhere.

Panic raised in him. He started to jerk as hard as never before, pulling so hard at his restraints that he actually thought his wrist were about to break. He felt the tearing of his skin as he tried to rip the tape by sheer force, tears leaking out of his eyes. Fanatically he breathed, again and again, but he couldn't fill his lungs with what they were crying for. More and more tears were streaming down his cheeks, he felt like dying. Strong hands kept his shoulders steady as he didn't stop trashing.

Then everything was over. The mask disappeared.

"Name?"

If Mac would have had the power to deny, he would have done so. But no answer was also an answer as the mask was shoved on his face again. With terrible pressure. Then the pain came and a scream howled through the house.