Same disclaimers apply, and same warnings. Dark story ahead.

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CHAPTER TWO

Starsky washed his hands and turned around to find a tall, thin man staring at him. There was something in the stare that made him uneasy but he shrugged it off. The man was standing at the door, blocking his way.

"Uh, excuse me…" The man stepped to the side, still with the same cold stare boring into him. Starsky started to walk past him but was taken by surprise when his arm was grabbed and he was pushed forcefully face first into the wall. Being startled, he was knocked off balance easily and found himself against the wall, with his arm being jerked roughly upwards, holding him in place. Before he could react further, he felt the prick of a needle in his neck and he sank to the ground, unconscious.

The bathroom was located out the back of the restaurant and Starsky's assailant had come prepared. He poured whisky over the prone body and hoisted him up. To any observer, Starsky would appear and smell drunk. He was dragged out, with the assailant smiling in apology at the waiters.

"I'll just take him out the back so you don't get embarrassed." Without waiting for a reply, he continued to drag Starsky through the back and out to where his van was waiting. He opened the door and threw his victim down, tying his wrists and ankles quickly, and gagging and blindfolding him. He knew Starsky would be out cold for hours yet but there was no sense in taking any risks.

"Now, Detective Starsky, I've been waiting a long time for this. You and your arrogant partner are going to pay for what you did to me. Now we'll just wait out here for him to come looking for you."

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Hutch finished chatting up the waitress and looked at his watch. Starsky was taking a very long time. He looked around but there was no sign of him. He started to feel uneasy, remembering the Italian restaurant where Starsky got shot. Telling himself he was being silly and worrying unnecessarily, he made his way to the back of the restaurant and the bathroom. No Starsky. He walked back out again, looking to see if Starsky had found himself a waitress to chat up, but there was no sign of him.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" A waiter approached him.

"Ah, yes, I'm looking for my friend. He came to the bathroom but he seems to have vanished. He's about 5 foot 6, dark, curly hair, has blue eyes…."

"I saw a man helping a drunk out the back. Couldn't see his eyes but he had dark curly hair. He was definitely drunk, and there was a strong aroma of alcohol."

Hutch frowned. He knew Starsky hadn't been drunk and he didn't like the sound of what he'd just been told. He pushed past the waiter and made his way outside. The back alley was dark and quiet, with only a van parked. Hutch was tense as he

walked past the trash cans. Something felt wrong and his instincts as a cop were flashing warning signals in his mind. He walked over to the van, instinctively reaching for his gun.

"I wouldn't do that, Hutchinson!" Hutch whirled around at the voice coming from behind him. "Just move nice and slow to the van, if you want to see your partner again, that is."

Hutch tensed at the words, knowing Starsky must be in the van. There only seemed to be one voice. He whirled around, pulling his gun at the same time, but he had no chance. The searing pain of a bullet hit his shoulder and the last thing he was

aware of before losing consciousness was being lifted and dragged to the van. He blacked out, unaware of Starsky also in the van, or of the chaos of people shouting as they were driven away.