Disclaimer: I do not own the guys; I just tend to play with them a bit…

Dedication: To many of my friend's that inspire and sometimes push me to write…THANK YOU ALL!

Warnings: This one may be a bit dark at times and some scenes of torture lie ahead…The views of this story are in no way reflected by the author!

No Turning Back

Chapter Six

Hutch stood under the thin aluminum awning as he heard the pinging of the rain drops hitting the cover above him. He looked around and saw very few people milling about. Across the yard, he saw a door open to a warn building, an armed man stepping through the doorway, followed by another haggard figure. The second man was thin and wearing torn clothes. Hutch immediately noticed his bare feet and the way his shoulders slumped forward, apparently riddled in defeat. A third man brought up the rear, he too was armed with an automatic weapon. It took a few minutes for Hutch's eyes to make out the shackles that adorned the prisoner's wrists and ankles. The tall blond watched in horror as the man was led to the center of the yard, to a small cage, one of three lined up side by side. They approached the middle cage, four barred walls and a barred ceiling. The men accompanying him used a key to open the box as the prisoner obediently entered the 5 x 5 foot cell.

"What're they doing to him?" Hutch asked his tour guides.

"Allowing him to serve out his punishment." Winters explained as they all watched on.

Hutch was almost unaware of a young boy that ran up to his side, eyeing the new stranger, looking him up and down, excitement filling his face. Hutch broke gaze from the man in the cage only briefly to look at he young man, he smiled, tipped his head and the returned his gaze to the appalling ritual that was playing out before him. He vaguely heard Winters addressing the young man as Billy, and asking why he was out of his room. Hutch didn't even hear the child's response. The tall blonde's face paled as he watched the guards unlock his shackles, and close and secure the door, locking it with the key from the outside. The man immediately began to unbutton his shirt, looking straight ahead, out into space, not making eye contact with anyone or anything. He striped off his shirt and his body began shivering in the cold, damp night air. The fog that escaped the prisoner's mouth with each exhale was evident, even from Hutch's vantage point. The man then pulled his worn, stained cotton pants down, off his waist, dropping them to the ground and stepping out of them. He bent over, picking them up, and handing them to the guard through the bars of his cage. He turned and stepped to the back of the small box, sitting in the corner, his body trembling even harder now, as he sat against the hard cold concrete, his eyes again fixing on something only he could see, straight ahead of him, barely blinking, focusing on something no one else could see.

Hutch's gut wrenched as he watched this man suffer the ultimate humiliation, he was naked, sitting in a cage in the middle of the courtyard. Three guards passed him by, two of them taking the time and effort to turn their heads and spit on him, hitting him in the face, and on the chest. The man never flinched.

"How long do you keep him out there?" Hutch asked.

"Most infractions earn anywhere from 24 to 48 hours in the box." Rigsby answered.

Hutch turned his head to look at the young boy who had stepped even closer to Hutch, his eyes locked on the prisoner in the cage. The blond sensed his fear and anger at what he was seeing, but he never made a face, never showed an outward disgust. He just watched.

"The more defiant Jews could be left out there for days, even weeks if their behavior continues." Winters added.

Hutch looked around the courtyard, his mind racing. How could this be happening? This was 1976 in Bay City, wherever the hell they were, human slavery, right here in front of him. How could no one know about this place? This was bigger than he thought it was, he had to get to a phone, he needed to get to Starsky, he never felt so far away…

"Let's go inside, we've got someone we want you to meet." Rigsby broke Hutch's trance as he snapped his head around, looking at the fair haired man who turned and headed into the building, Winters holding the door open for him. Hutch looked down at the young boy, Billy. The dark brown eyes of the preteen pierced the Nordic's heart as the child smiled and then scurried away. Hutch followed the two through the threshold, into what, he wasn't sure.

The tall blond couldn't help but think about the brunet boy that he had just encountered. What in the world is that boy doing in a place like this? Where his parents? Were they prisoners, or even maybe some of the guards? His heart broke, either way, this was not going to be a good outcome for that young man.

He followed Rigsby into the building. It was an older complex, the walls in the poorly lit room showing their age. Chipped plaster, and spider webbed cracks gave character to the whole aura of this Nazi type camp. Hutch noted the old hanging lamps with metal framed casing hanging low from the ceiling. They continued down the long corridor as Hutch looked around, he tried to find something, anything that would give him some type of clue where he was at. If he found a way to get word to Starsky, he needed to be able to tell him where to start looking. He looked around, into every room with an opened door, looking for a telephone, a radio, something he could use to make contact with the outside world. There was nothing…he suddenly felt like he had gone back in time, like he had entered the Twilight Zone…

He was finally led to the last door on the right, at the very end of the hallway. Rigsby knocked twice, paused, and then knocked three more times.

"C'me in." An ominous voice from the other side bellowed as Rigsby looked back at Winters, and then to the door, turning the handle slowly and pushing the door open. They heard the man in the room, his voice raised, apparently in a heated discussion.

"You what?" he shouted into the phone as Rigsby passed through the threshold, being waved in by the man behind the desk, his neck cocked, the phone pressed against his ear. "Who the fuck gave you the word to do that?" He fumed as he looked up and made eye contact with Hutch, his brow furrowing at the sight of a stranger. "Get him ready, I'll be there to process him myself…and Montag…don't go anywhere, I'm not finished with you!"

Jason Kiles slammed the phone receiver back down onto it's cradle as his face flushed in anger. He looked up at Rigsby, "Did you give Montag permission to go out solo and bring in his own Jew shit bag?" Kiles raged as he rose from behind the desk, grabbing his jacket and throwing it over his shoulders.

"Now why the hell would I do that?" Rigsby asked as Hutch felt his stomach turning, just listening to the way they were referring to other human beings.

"Well, he got the idea from somewhere…" the red-haired man with extremely fair skin and crystal blue eyes ranted to his comrade.

"Jason, this is Kent Cummings, that guy I was telling you about" Rigsby attempted to introduce the two as Hutch extended his hand in greeting just to have it ignored.

"Do I look like I have time for socializing?" he snapped, "Why don't you show him around, but keep him in your sight, you can explain to me later what he's doing here!" Kiles quipped as he pulled open the door, and rushed through it, slamming it behind him.

Both Hutch and Rigsby exchanged looks before leaving the small office.

ooo

The cab they rode in smelt of stale smoke, urine and vomit, making the hooded brunet nauseous as the car drove through the streets of Bay City and then passed the city limits. Starsky lost tack of all the turns and stops the car had made. One thing he was pretty sure of was this wasn't just any cab…the driver was obviously in on the illegal activities as he over heard the conversations between Montag and the anonymous driver.

"So how much you think this one will bring in?" The unidentified voice asked from the front seat.

"I'd say at least 75…he's in pretty good shape. As long as he cooperates, he should fetch a pretty penny. It would be a shame to have him wind up sick, emaciated or injured. He's a good product so far, guess we'll just have to see how much he cooperates." Montag explained as the driver snorted in agreement.

"Take this blindfold off," Starsky demanded, "whata ya' afraid of?" He taunted.

Montag ignored him as he continued to converse with the driver about everyday subjects, like the previous night's football game.

"Didya eear me? Take this God damn thing offa me!" Starsky demanded a little more aggressively.

Without word or warning the brunet felt a fist connect with the right side of his jaw, his head snapping to the side, his temple hitting the glass window.

He paused a moment and then straightened back up, deciding it would probably be best if he kept quiet and waited for the right time to make his move. In this situation, timing was going to be everything.

They pulled into the gated complex as Starsky fell to the side with the sudden sharp turn. The brunet felt the car come to an abrupt halt and the door open.

"Get out!" Montag growled as he reached in and roughly grabbed Starsky around the upper arm, jerking him out of the aromatic vehicle. Starsky felt the rain and cool air hit him painfully in the face. Unable to see where he was going, what he was doing, or what to prepare for, he fell on to his knees, the mud and water soaking through his jeans in an instant as he felt a handful of his hair being gripped and pulled upward, instinctively pulling him to his feet.

"Whata good Jew, kneeling before me already." Montag laughed.

"Fuck you asshole!" Starsky spat as he felt himself being jerked forward. The brunet heard several voices, shouting orders as he was pulled into different directions.

"Give him over to me, Kiles is pissed," another voice resonated in the detective's ears, "…you better figure out how you're gonna explain this one. Two fuck ups in two months, he's gonna kill you!" An unidentified voice spoke.

"Yeah, well he can go fuck himself for all I care, I make him more money then any of the recruiters in here, he should be thanking me for this one!" Montag argued as Starsky felt himself being jerked back his direction.

Starsky could barely walk, his ankle throbbed, his body screaming in agony, still trying to heal from its previous beating. The loss of his sight made the brunet more then uncomfortable, his stomach turned as he fought back the fear that threatened to creep its way up to the surface. He felt himself be shoved forward, all hands holding him. Releasing their grip as the detective fell forward, first onto his knees and then flat on his chest onto the muddied, wet ground. He stayed put, hoping that they would leave him there, give him a chance to rest, and orient himself with his surroundings. He hoped they would remove the blindfold, giving him back the advantage of his sight. Neither of his wishes was granted.

Four strong hands jerked the brunet upright, dragging his lower body through the dirt and puddles as he found himself at their mercy. There were several voices, all talking at once, some had to do with him, and others did not. Starsky kept his hearing trained on Hutch's voice, he wanted so badly to hear his partner's voice, he needed to hear it, to know he was in the right place. So far, nothing, no familiar sounds. Starsky sighed heavily, praying that he hadn't made one of the biggest mistakes in his life, separating him and his partner forever. He allowed his body to relax, to stop struggling, making the journey easier on his aching bones.

He heard the sound of keys jangling, a door creaking, and then he was moved again. A certain amount of panic started rising in the normally calm officer.

"Where am I? What're you guys gonna do to me?..." He asked quickly, "Take of this blindfold…look me in the eyes and tell me what's goin' on!" He continued as his fear rose to almost an uncontrollable level.

He was pulled into a standing position, being careful not to put too much weight on his ankle, hobbling slightly.

"Don't you worry none you fucking Jude, you'll see all of us soon enough…" Starsky felt a hand grasp his throat squeezing firmly, just barely cutting off his air and then releasing.

"Let 'im go!" Starsky heard a very authoritative voice coming from behind him. He was pushed up against cold metal bars, pressing hard against his back.

Starsky had no idea what to expect, or where to expect it from. he stood tall, his chest expanding as he breathed heavily.

"So you're my new merchandise," the voice spoke ominously.

"I ain't no merchandise." Starsky protested, feeling the slap of an open hand connecting with his burlap covered face.

"Don't you fucking talk to me, you piece of shit Jew, I'm gonna teach you some manners and show you exactly where your place is in this world. My fucking dog ranks higher than you!" A punch connected with his gut, bending him over as he nearly threw up right then. "You will learn respect and manners, but most of all, you'll learn your place in this world," A handful of hair again grabbed as his head was snapped back, "you understand me?" Even through the burlap, he could feel the heat of his breath on his face, knowing that the anonymous voice was very close to his head.

Starsky was once again pulled up into the standing position, he felt hands on his shirt as the fabric was roughly pulled taught on both sides, ripping it from his chest and abdomen.

"Maybe Montag was right; this bastard may bring in some good money." Kiles stated as he used his fingers to poke and prod Starsky's bared muscles.

Kiles turned and moved away from the detective, what Starsky heard next, he wasn't prepared for…

"Strip him!" He heard the man order as several hands started grabbing and groping at him while the brunet struggled to free himself, not knowing what they had planned for him.

To Be Continued…