Face was awakened with a jolt; his eyes flashed around the room. Ok, Ok. Stay calm. He needed to follow the instructions Hannibal gave him for when he was captured. Templeton was the team's con-man which meant that he could be expandable, or pushed to do other things that the other team members couldn't handle. Murdock, when trapped in enclosed spots would flair his upper extremities, shouting and drooling, imitating a rabid squirrel or dog. Bosco Baracus on the other hand, would tear the officers who would stand outside the doorway into two neat piles. That would definitely enforce 20, or 30 more years in prison, if it ever came to that. Hannibal simply was the man with plans. If he was captured, the team would fall apart. Like a child without its mother. That left Face, the youngest member of the team, to do every inside job that came to the team. Great.

First, observe your surroundings, look for any weak links that may lead to your later escape. Peck moved his head but found it difficult. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and moved his chin to his chest, looking down at his body. What he noticed was one of the many things the team always counts on in these situations. Ropes. There were four sets. One around his neck, lose enough for him to speak and breathe, but tight enough to keep his head to the table underneath him, another around his torso, and one around his ankles. The last was saved for his wrists. He could feel the pulse in them as they throbbed with the overly tightened rope. Secured tightly, Face could only hope that one of the Team members picked up on his absence.

Everyday Hannibal and the team wake up at exactly eight A.M, cleanse them selves of the nights before, and get ready for the day to come. There was one small problem.

Hannibal had woken up to light breathing and the tossing and turning of the Captain. Though that is what you would expect in a house containing the A-team, there was a certain sound that Hannibal had not been able to pick up on. The early morning hair salon Face had turned the bathroom into. Every morning Templeton would wake earlier than the team and make his daily routine. Without the wakening sound of the hair dryer or the water of the shower, Hannibal was immediately alerted to his absence. With that said, he woke the sleeping members of the team.

Two hours had passed since he found himself bound to the hard spine irritating table beneath him. Trying to shift his body he found the rope around his neck to tighten and cut off the air to his lungs. Quickly, he threw out the fabulous idea of comfort. He twitched his fingers and tickled the rope, trying to unwind the fine strands that made up the thick string. It was tedious at the least, but most of his escapes were, even though Hannibal was the escape artist. He sighed at the thought of his team. What if I don't see them again? I'll never know what it's like to be normal… He sighed once again, and continued working.

Within several moments, he heard the unnerving clang of the door. He stopped immediately unwinding, and wrapped his fist around the rope, to hide his escape attempt. Wincing, Face moved his head up, but found the rope tightening once again. He dropped his head down, regretting it the second it hit hard surface. He groaned slightly, but cut the air from escaping his mouth before he found out who his host was. The man (or woman) entered silently. He tried relying on his ears to pinpoint where the person was that had entered, but he realized it to be completely useless when he found no sound echoing to his ears. He could, however, see the shadow creeping across his vision, only making his agitation worse.

Since his visitor wasn't talking, he decided he'd introduce himself, "You know it's very rude to sneak up on a man who is trying to have beauty sleep." The shadow ceased, and Face wondered silently to himself if he made the right decision to speak up first. Maybe they thought I was unconscious and were waiting for me to wake up. Nice going face, who knows what they'll do now that you're awake. He twisted his neck uncomfortably, trying to get a look at the person. The silence was driving his nerves into frenzy. He caught a glimpse of an olive green uniform. Face took studies under clothing that people wear all over the globe, but he knew this one in particular. He moved his head back before he went unconscious once again from the rope around his neck.

The man seemed to be observing him, Face concluded. Watching the way his body twitched, and how he moved his head to spot him. He stopped himself thinking he was amusing the visitor. He decided to wait until the man would introduce himself. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the man who was next to him. He propped an eye open when the silence was becoming overwhelming. Blinking, he gasped with wide eyes. The man had moved over him, and into his vision. Face jerked his body upward to move away from the somewhat evil stare he was receiving, but ended up in a strangle hold from the rope. He moved his body downward before he could do any harm.

"Well don't go and kill yourself. I won't have any fun." The man leaned closer to Peck and examined his handsome face. He put his hand on Face's cheek and pinched, causing the lieutenant to jerk his head from his hand in pain. Smirking, the man touched the bruise that rested around the side of Face's left eye. "Didn't know I had it in me," he said chuckling, "I should sign up for wrestling." The man's crude humor brought no comfort to Templeton. It made his desire for rescue higher. Face barked, "Don't touch me! Let me go Decker!" The older man shook his head in disappointment. "Do you not understand defeat Peck? I was sent here to interrogate you, since it's my honor for capturing the infamous Templeton "Faceman" Peck. But after you kissed and manipulated my daughter, you made this personal…" Face winced as he could feel Decker's cold breath close to him. He stuttered, "wh-what exactly d-do you intend to do to me?"

Decker smirked. "I intend to show you hell."