A newfound panic gripped Steve that he quickly towelled himself dry and almost forgot to put on his pants in his haste to get Tony to confirm his suspicion. If what he thought was true, then tick tock, they had to haul ass right now. He slid the glass door open with too much force it almost shattered, and he half-stumbled into the bedroom. Despite the ear-splitting ruckus Tony remained exactly where he was, lying prone on the bed, unmoving, his eyes blown and fixated at a spot on the far wall.

Steve backtracked into the bathroom to gather a face towel.

The cold, calculative part of his brain dictated him to pack up, grab Tony and run. He eyed the electronic bits of the vibrator that he'd laid by the sink as the towel he held under the tap soak up the warm moisture. The human part of him though realised there'd be loads of recovering to be done that night. And explaining. Try as he might, there was no way to erase what'd just transpired, and if not for the unadulterated dread that was growing in the pit of his stomach, there might be just enough space for guilt. He wrung the towel dry and reached into his pocket. Think, just think – and he pulled out his phone.

He dialled 999.

"Talian kecemasan: sila maklumkan tujuan untuk panggilan ini."

Oh, God.

"Police, please. Is this the police? I've a crime to report."

Do people speak English around this corner of the world?

"What is your current location, Sir?"

God bless.

"Pullman Hotel, Bangsar."

"What crime do you wish to report?"

Steve already had a story lined up. He took in a shuddering breath hoping it'd sounded like a self-calming one and half-stammered out, "I think – no, I'm sure that someone had drugged my friend, and did something to him. I brought him back from a store room of some sort. I don't think he's hurt, but I need help."

"Do you require immediate medical attention?"

"No. No, I don't think so."

"Stay where you are, Sir. A patrol unit has been despatched and is currently heading your way."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "OK. Thank you." He hung up and silently hoped that this gambit would pay off. Steve scooped the towel and bits of the vibrator, and exited the bathroom. By now Tony was sitting up on the bed and had recovered some of the colour in his cheeks. He took the proffered face towel wordlessly and started mopping up his forehead.

"I need you to take a closer look at this."

Steve uncurled his fingers to reveal the scattered electronic bits on his palm. Tony took one glance at it and the shock was enough to distract him from cleaning himself, shock that quickly morphed to disbelief, and Steve didn't like the way his expression darkened.

"No, no. This can't be right…"

Steve grimaced, "A tracker?"

"Yeah." Tony looked up at once. "What's it doing in – I mean I don't –"

"Now look at this." Steve whipped out his phone and searched for the message that'd directed him to the store house where he found Tony earlier that evening. "Did you send me this?" It was a curt one, containing only an address, signed off with a "Please hurry." Tony gestured for his pants and Steve collected it from the floor. He fished for his phone from one of the pockets and studied the message log.

"It was sent out from my phone, no doubt in that."

"But did you send it?" Steve pressed on testily.

"No."

That was all the confirmation he needed. Steve started hurling their strewn around belonging into his bag. Tony didn't wait for further instructions. He quickly dressed himself and helped clear the bathroom of their toiletries, and did a quick sweep of the room to ensure no vital documents were left behind. Almost like an afterthought, he slipped both their passports into his pocket. He limped around searching for his laptop and realised – belatedly – that his kidnappers had actually taken his sling bag.

"What?"

Steve was surveying him impatiently, catching Tony gape morosely at the coffee table.

"They got my sling bag."

"The one you brought to the meeting?"

"Yes. Doesn't matter," he shook his head dismissively, "most of the stuff on the reactor tech are stored on a private server anyway." He looked pointedly at Steve. "They're not after the reactor tech, are they?"

Steve resumed pulling clothes from the wardrobe. "No."

In under ten minutes most of their collective possessions were a messy heap in Steve's luggage. Steve wasn't generous with explanations and Tony didn't plan on asking for any, not yet, not wanting to stall their progress. The fact that somebody had taken him and sent a pick-me-up to Steve from his phone only meant one thing: a trap. But for whom? If their objective was him, or his work, they already had him where they wanted. Defenceless, alone in that God forsaken store house. If they wanted Steve, they'd succeeded in luring him out. All they needed to do was wait until Steve show up to collect him.

Neither happened. So what was their end game?

And someone rapped on their door twice.

Unsettled, they exchanged a brief look before Steve cautiously peered out of the peephole. Tony half-expected someone to fire a gun right through it, through Steve's eyeball like a sick scene of Final Destination but Steve nodded curtly and pulled the door open, so Tony guessed whoever it was on their doorstep was legit. A man wearing a rather genial expression, dressed in a white polo T-shirt bearing the crest of the hotel on his breast smiled kindly at Steve. But he was abruptly shoved aside to admit a group of four of – judging by the arrays of gang tattoos adorning their arms – thugs. One of them was Eurasian, and he closed the door unhurriedly behind them.

"Steve Rogers. How good to see you here."

He made for a handshake which Steve didn't take. The soldier held himself warily, his eyes icy as his fists curled dangerously by his side.

The man turned his attention to Tony who was standing shiftily by the bed. With a grin, bestial that didn't quite reach his eyes, he asked no one in particular, "And how do you find Malaysia so far?"

"Who are you?" Steve demanded.

"You don't, and won't know who I am, Rogers. But you know who I represent." He settled himself graciously in the corner armchair. Then he pointed a finger squarely at Tony and said, "Take him."

The other three nameless ones swarmed over him in a second. One had roughly pulled his arms to his back, locking them in place while the others secured a leg each, pinning him down almost spread eagle waist-down to the bed. He began to curse in protest when the man that was trapping his ankle – opportunistic as he was – pushed a handkerchief into his mouth.

"Don't touch him!" Steve moved towards him, but the Eurasian held him back. Tony caught a glint of metal pressed against Steve's side, that of a short blade's.

"Give me a reason, and I will."

Come on, disarming one guy can't be that difficult, Tony found himself praying, but when Steve kept his silence and dropped his fighting stance, Tony felt even more helpless than he ever was.

"Frankly I'm a bit disappointed," the man began conversationally. "A man like you Rogers, should know better. These… anchors, emotional attachments… they're weaknesses. They only hold you back. And people like me, well, we look for weak points like this in men like you. And we show no mercy." He re-sheathed the blade. Tony mentally prompted Steve to tackle the man to the ground, disable the threat, something, but Steve stood resolutely still. "This boytoy of yours is something else though, isn't he?"

Tony's eyes widened at that. He shook his head from side to side as hard as he could. The man who'd had him by the arms tightened his grip and Tony winced. A little bit more and he could've easily dislocated a shoulder. Steve somehow had gotten his breathing under control. He could be planning something, Tony resorted to comforting himself, he must be, because God help them both, he didn't want to know what was waiting for them at the end of this talk.

"You took Tony this evening. Then you gave him back. Why?"

Steve was stalling. Steve was definitely planning something. Tony had got to believe in that.

"Bait. I want you, Rogers."

"You texted me with his phone, knowing I'd come at once."

"And you played your part beautifully."

"Then why didn't you take me then? That had been so easy."

"Oh, that wouldn't be as much fun, would it? Obviously you've found the little present I hid in him." He turned to Tony again, this time a hint of hunger playing on his face. "I only have to wait a little longer to know where you're staying, and," he looked up to Steve, "voila. I know your MO. You'd choose rooms with certain features. Window looking out to the open instead of another building to guard against spies and snipers. Emergency staircases within your vicinity for a quick escape. Soundproofing, just in case. So why, Rogers, would I not carry out my crime in a place as perfect as this?"

He stood up. Now standing shoulder to shoulder with Steve, Tony noted that this man was just as tall, but lankier, lacking the virility and built that Steve's physique exude. Yet, there was still the noteworthy rigidity in his posture in the way he move – perhaps he too shared a military past like Steve?

The Eurasian lifted a finger at Tony's direction again, "Strip him."

Tony didn't quite understand the implication of that order, until the buttons of his shirt and pants were ruthlessly undone. He struggled more vigorously against their vice grips but to no avail, and his cries were all muffled by the handkerchief that was strategically pressing down on his tongue. He was completely, and utterly useless and at their mercy.

"I'll give it to you, though. You have impeccable taste in men."

The hair on Tony's nape stood on ends as the Eurasian leered at his naked form. He crept closer to the bed.

"We were in a hurry just now so I didn't quite get a close look, but Dr Stark, we now have all night to ourselves."

His hands were callous, marred by lines of backbreaking labour where Tony didn't doubt bloodshed and cruelty were implicated. When he leaned in, his lips hovering just within striking distance, Tony smashed his forehead horrifically against the man's, the sickening thud of bone on bone drowned by an eloquent "Fuck!" Tony would've savoured the moment if not for a brutal fist deep in his stomach, followed up by a knee – his vision blackened for a split second as he swallowed back the burning acridity of bile.

"Rogers must've loosened you up here nice and easy," the Eurasian spat, "seeing how he got the tracker out of you. We made sure we got it planted deep where it feels good for you faggots."

Tony bit down hard on his handkerchief when he felt fingers intruding his entrance again. While Steve handled him with some form of care, this man was the least worried about causing discomfort, if any, Tony was certain he was doing his best to cause the most of it. Tony winced as fingernails scrapped against him, and he instinctively looked over to Steve, who could only watch the scene unfold in silent horror. His fists were still curled tightly by his side and his jaw was set, and he looked like if he could, he would've cracked the side of the creep's skull with a vase – Tony bodily protested when the man attempted a second finger – then good God, just follow through with it!

"Bet you like to take it from Rogers like a good little whore you are."

Tony didn't understand why they kept harping about that, and it wasn't true in any sense. He'd tell them they were wrong. He'd say it over and over again, over the agony in his rear until his voice go hoarse. A tiny part of him suspected that these people were gunning for Steve and he was just collateral, and the soonest that thought came to him he twisted his neck to look at Steve. The soldier's gaze was almost apologetic, but that counted for shit didn't it, not when someone was trying to rape him right here, right now and Steve had a chance to make a difference –

God, how did it all came down to this?

The Eurasian hooked his arms under Tony's knees and folded the legs to his chest. Tony fought against his restraints but they were unforgiving, and he bulked and kicked – but the man had learned his lesson and was taking no more chances, locking him good with vice grips. His muscles ached at the strain, he didn't think he'd been bent over at angles like this since fourteen – and then there came a tell-tale push at his entrance. He stilled, and the rigid mass breached the rim –

There was a smart rap on the door again.

Tony exhaled shakily, and had enough presence of mind to be deeply grateful for the interruption. His heaving chest was the only movement in the room until the Eurasian haughtily instructed one of his men to look through the peephole. But Tony was still reeling in shock, and though he was aware that he was spared – for the time being – physically he was still prisoned by it. He was let go immediately, his limbs strewn haphazardly across the bed. Steve took the opportunity to pull up the discarded pants to Tony's waist and slip his dress shirt on. And very quietly he mouthed, "I'm getting you out of here."

The door opened, this time revealing a quartet of policemen in their deep navy uniform. A patrol unit possibly, and Steve couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief. The newcomers appraised all of them and remarked, "Is everything all right? We received a report –"

"Officers," Steve spoke up, beckoning for the police's attention. The Eurasian directed a sharp glower at him, but Steve met it with levelled gaze. "It's my friend here. He's gotten into trouble earlier this evening so I called for help."

A lady in black headscarf came up to kneel beside Tony immediately. Sensing the tension in the way the scientist was holding himself, she grasped his biceps tenderly. "Can you walk? We'd like to take you to the police station to assist investigation."

"For what?"

The Eurasian had expertly schooled his prior arrogance into what Tony interpreted as a professional air of dismay. "It could be just a prank call made by someone from the building. Look, we're having some really good time ourselves. Clearly there's been some kind of misunderstanding."

Steve kept his hold on Tony as the latter took measured breaths to steel his nerves. His shaking had stopped, and the lady policeman urged him to stand.

"Let me show you the way, gentlemen."

Steve took Tony by the shoulders and together, they walked out of the room, their hearts pumping ferociously in their chests but they made it – in a few more steps they were clear of the perimeter and Tony visibly relaxed at the distance. His eyes searched for Steve's, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Relief, gratitude, confusion – and terror – when a couple of gunshots rang in the air.

The policewoman pulled out her pistol, "Stairs. To the left. Now!"

Tony readily appreciated Steve's expertise in military combat. Steve sheltered him with his own body whenever there was no cover, and he'd duck and check for obstructions before they took a corner. His grip on Tony was firm and authoritative, but there was a certain bout of composure in the way he was handling the situation. The policewoman was hot on their heels, covering them, the barrel of her pistol unwavering, aiming at anything unfriendly that were to emerge.

There was another gunshot and Steve shove themselves through the emergency exit. Three flight of steps down and Steve pulled Tony through another door and they charged towards the other end of the floor. If going by the view that the ceiling-to-floor window provided, Steve could be aiming for a side entrance.

"More cover," he panted, and they pushed through another emergency exit.

The policewoman was no longer behind them.

Tony's breathing catches in his throat, but he didn't permit himself time to recover. He padded along vacated corridors and more staircases, his steps a tad clumsier than the soldier, but they both made it to ground floor. They emerged into a back alley – there was the clanging of pots and pans within earshot, so the hotel's kitchen could be adjacent – and Steve patted his arm again.

"We need to go," he strained.

They tried to flag a cab and got lucky; one came to a stop by the curb in less than a minute. The driver wasn't using his meter but there wasn't any luxury to nit-pick. Half-way through the journey when Tony had settled enough, he started worrying about having enough cash for the ride. He made to check his wallet – still stuffed snuck in his pocket, as were their passports – and was immediately thankful by the sight of a comfortable wad of Ringgit in it.

Steve had asked the cab to take them downtown. Like a gifted peddler of lies, he spun the most believable touristy tale that the driver gleefully reciprocated with suggestions of where to go, what to eat and who to meet. Eventually he suggested them both to put up at another five star hotel near Bukit Bintang – which his cab was now idling at its glamorous porch – and Steve paid him RM80 as he demanded. He waved the cab off despite knowing full well he'd just been ripped.

Tony wrapped his arms around his chest and made for the hotel's entrance. Steve pulled him back a step.

"No. We'll have to stay low for the next couple of days." He licked at his chaffed lips and surveyed the foreign area a bit. "Come on."

He reached out for Tony's arm again and didn't miss the passing flinch that seized Tony's feature. He let his outstretched hand flop to his side and settled with jerking his head to the direction he intended to take. Despite the ghastly hours and the chilly breeze of the night the streets were still spilling with people. They chattered in languages both men didn't understand, and they kept their chins tucked while avoiding as much eye contact as possible without appearing suspicious. At what looked like a random junction to Tony, they ducked away from the crowd and forged deeper into an alley. The few stragglers that were huddled by the clogged drain quirked an eyebrow at them and cat-called, but Steve marched ahead and kept his eyes on the road, so Tony did the same. They kept at the pace for close to 15 minutes and the adrenaline that was the only thing keeping Tony upright was beginning to wear away. He started lagging, widening the distance between them. Just when he thought he was going to lose the soldier at yet another junction, Steve turned around and took him quite steadily by the shoulders. His blue eyes sought out Tony's, and they were tentative, as if that simple contact would burn as it did prior, but Tony remained quiet – or too far gone to care.

And Steve never let go after.

"Just a bit more…"

Tony nodded, but said nothing.

Soon the bustling of the city quieted down as they emerged at the outskirt of Bukit Bintang. There were vacancies up at a shoddy looking motel plugged into the corner of a block, signified by a blinking sign made up of bendy fluorescent tubes. The walls were somewhat mouldy with paint peeling off where it was closer to the ground and pipes, and the windows were all tinted black. Steve didn't like the general air to the place, and if going by the hesitancy scrawled all over Tony's face neither did he, but they were operating on limited resources and wherever they could scrounge, they should.

"We'll probably have to stay hidden here for a couple of days. Is this fine with you?"

Something in him snapped and Tony shot him a dark look. "So now my opinion counts?"

"Tony –"

"We should get off the streets as soon as we can," he said curtly, and walked past Steve to enter the motel.

The rate was as cheap as the exterior and Steve had no problem paying off the deposit in cash. As they had no idea when they would be able to leave, he asked if they could pay on a day-to-day basis. The person manning the registrar – a middle-aged Chinese man with receding hair and gum line – said they could work with that.

As luck would have it, the motel had only two kinds of room – single, or king.

Steve drummed his fingers on the unpolished counter as he pondered on the options. Given current circumstances, separating would be a terrible idea, plus they didn't have enough money to pay for two rooms. But Steve understood that Tony deserved space of his own and he was thinking if he could ask for a single room and an extra cot, or maybe offered to sleep on the floor instead – but Tony interjected and asked clearly for a king. He completed the transaction – money and key swiftly exchanged hands – and they traipsed to their assigned room.

Steve wasn't expecting a Pullman of course, and wasn't very surprised to find it barely serviceable. The air-conditioner was loud and clunky, the TV had no reception and the bathroom looked like it could do with a renovation, and there was a lingering scent of cigarette in the air.

Tony was half-leaning against the wall, right next to the door, his hand closing tightly over the knob. He regarded Steve with an even glare, the anger unmistakable behind the dark irises.

"You telling me what's going on?" The click was pronounced when Tony flicked the lock up. "Why me? Or are they after you?"

Steve sighed sadly and seemed to chew on his tongue. He could only offer, "I'm so sorry."

"Damn right you are! Start talking or I'm going straight to the police!"

Tony shook where he stood and grasped urgently at the wall for support. Steve made to steady Tony again but the scientist started at the proximity. This time it did dig painfully in Steve's gut. Very slowly he edged away and sat on a corner of the bed.

"What do you want to know?"

"How about who you fucking are? Really."

Steve moistened his lower lips as he weighed his words carefully. "How I introduced myself to you from the beginning was all true. There really was a grant available for weapon R&D and I was sincere in offering you the opportunity to submit a proposal for it. I am part of the approval committee, though I represent the interest of the government – the Military side of the government, to be exact.

"But my primary assignment has always been scouting out the research scene – academia, industry – and monitoring progress done in the field. If things get too, ah, interesting, we step in, before other people do."

"Research done on what?"

"Weapons development and manufacturing, mostly. Biological, chemical, anything goes. Behavioural studies. Political analyses from different parts of the world. Anything and everything that could potentially be developed for criminal purposes. I ensure our side has a bird eye's views on these things, ensure we're always a step ahead of other parties. Naturally this job comes with enemies."

"And what's that got to do with me?"

"Your work on the reactor tech is deemed too dangerous to be let alone. In the wrong hands, it could be made a WMD. You as the creator described it best: it's the ultimate battery. Imagine if one were to have the power to manipulate the energy sector. Imagine the impact on global economy for starters. And the provision of basic utilities to humanity in general?"

Tony scowled in disgust. "And you think I'd do such a thing?"

"No, you won't, but this is bigger than you. First they will charm you, try to have you part with your patents willingly in exchange for money and reputation. If that fails, they'll threaten you. They'll take away your research opportunities, your position in the university perhaps. It'll escalate to violence."

"Like today."

Steve sighed. "Yes. Partly."

"Right," Tony swallowed thickly. Colours were starting to drain from his skin but he stood as straight and steadfastly as he could. "Right, because they know you. Called your name. Probably know the name of your dog." He looked away, and Steve squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"They've been a thorn in my side for as long as I'm at this job. Like I said, it comes with enemies. The information I have at my disposal? Priceless. They couldn't buy over my allegiance. So they're down to intimidation."

"Intimidation? That was a straight out murder attempt! So what, all this crap that's happening to me right now is sheer misfortune by being here with you?"

Steve didn't answer that, but it was enough telling. Tony gave out a nervous chuckle, "Oh God, I'm so fucked…"

"Calm down –"

"No, Steve! No! There are people out there trying to kill us – how is any of this – no, no, no, we got to go to the police."

"Tony –"

"Ask for help. Explain the situation. Get protection."

Steve's lips pressed tightly into a thin line. "I'm sorry. But we got to wait this out."

All the things Steve just said ran through Tony's mind in a blur. Suddenly he found it so silly that just yesterday evening he was worrying about perfecting his PowerPoint. It wasn't fair. He was Tony Stark, Assistant Professor of Boston U, just trying to get some grants and keep the lab afloat. He was going to get published in Nature, possibly make a successful crossover to medicinal science and get that Howard Hugh award. He wasn't ready for this. He hadn't asked for any of it. Steve's world was violent and manipulative and fucking confusing, as confusing as the way the shoddy room spiralled and caved in beneath his feet. Steve was at his side in an instant, worry etched blatantly on his features.

"You need to rest. Here, let me –"

"Don't – stop touching –"

"Just let me help you –"

With the last ounce of strength Tony could muster he held Steve back against his chest. Sounds were but a muffled whisper in his ears, and the room a passing shadow. He knew he was fading, but he ground himself to the wall, to the floor, and forcefully forbade himself from falling. His vision closed in around the periphery and he stilled, focusing instead of the hardness of the wall against his back.

"They drugged me with… things…"

Steve knew that. Steve knew what Tony needed medical attention. He doubted it was anything lethal – case proven in point – but with four murderous thugs prowling the street looking for blood, going straight to a hospital would just light up beacons. And Steve couldn't risk that. Tony himself had never once brought up the need to go to one either, but it was evident that his deteriorating condition warranted a look-after.

"Are you hurting? How are you feeling?"

Tony slipped an inch along the wall and Steve held him tighter around the elbow. "I think they gave me sedatives? I can't… quite think. It's all fuzzy up here," he waved a shaky hand around his head. "And I think… Viagra?"

Steve promptly looked down and there it was, the painfully obvious tent in Tony's pants. Hesitantly, Steve asked, "Do you…?"

"God, no. No, no." Tony let out of heavy breath and his eyes slid close. He sunk completely into Steve's waiting arms and moved no more, finally heeding the call for oblivion. Steve picked the scientist up and settled him gingerly on one side of the bed. He hoped the sleep could while away the effects of the drugs, and the next best thing he could do for them both at the moment was a fresh change of clothes and some warm food.

But Steve allowed himself a minute. He sat down on the carpeted floor and kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. The minute this was over, he swore to disappear from Tony's life for good.

Yet another life ruined.