Warning. –This page contains torture, gore, and violence; some curse words may be used. If you are under the age of 13, and/or can not hear, think, or see anything of the sort, please move to the next chapter and don't read any chapter with this warning. Thank you for your cooperation.
Murdock groaned, early awakenings were one of his many weaknesses, next to the simply obvious fact of his mental stability. He sits up, as he always does in these occasions, and tries to locate his mental dog, Billy. "Billy?" He asks, whistling, "Here boy!" The large African American sleeping next to him stirs.
He winces as he stands, holding a small brown teddy bear close to his chest. He takes a cautious step over the man, and makes his way around, whistling and looking for the image of his mind. After about an hour of searching, he comes up short. Sighing, he looks at the sleeping man. Quickly, he moves, until his knees are imbedded into the carpet and his face looms over the darker pigmented.
He uses the paw of the stuffed animal that was buried into his chest to lightly tap B.A's cheek. Baracus always had his temper problems, but the team usually avoided them, with the help of the youngest, Face. He'd con B.A into thinking that everything was alright, and no one was hurt, suffered any trauma, or in some cases, flown by a mental patient to a different far away land. Without Faceman how will we ever survive?
Murdock looked down. He was actually afraid of loseing Templeton. He had already lost his mind but the lieutenant was the only one of the team that bothered to get down into the dirt and help him find the shattered glass that remained. He needed someone to talk to, and with Billy gone, that left him with one other option. The questioned remained, was B.A up for comfort?
He sighed, and pressed the bear paw back on Baracus's cheek, pushing it in lightly. He almost screamed and flew from her perch when he saw the brown eyes snap open with anger. He stumbled back feet kicking at the hard floor to push him to the wall. He could hear the growl raising in B.A's throat. He swallowed his pride and stood, pulling the bear closer. "Uh-uhm. B-B.A?"
Of course B.A cared about his team. He cared like Murdock does, and Hannibal, but when it comes to actually tolerating them, he finds it a different story. Glaring at the shaking man he grunts, "What is it now fool?" And what was replied to his question caused the heart of B.A Baracus to soften from its hard outer shell. "I'm scared B.A, I'm scared about Faceman…" Hannibal had just entered the room when he heard the ending statement. He shook his head, "Face is tough, he'll hang in there till we can figure out where he went."
Face winced as tight cuffs pushed into his sore wrists. He let out a small groan stifled in his sleeve. His back, now against a wall instead of a table, crooked in the middle from the day he spent lying in a most uncomfortable position that his back now refused to mold from. He resumed his sarcastic dialogue, and rude comments, but it seemed that none of it reached Decker's ears. The man was determined; Face had to give him points for that. He looked at the device the man had hooked his body to. It resembled a table, only placed against a wall. A large wheel like device pushed and pulled chains to his right.
He quickly looked at Decker, "This is a war crime!" Decker grinned, "It can't be a war crime if this isn't a war." He pulled a lever and the device started. Slowly it moved, pulling Face's arms and legs into an X' like position, but it didn't end there, it continued to pull, until extreme pain filled his joints. He pushed his head back and screamed into the dark room.
He sat up quickly, eyes wide, and newly formed sweat beading at his brow. His heart was racing as fast as the room span. He looked at the driver of the vehicle he had found himself awakening to.
"B.A?" He asked. The man driving the car doesn't bother to turn and face him, he lazily moves his eyes to the rear-view mirror, and takes a glance back to Murdock.
"What is it now fool?" Murdock's face contorts into a pout as he looks down at the floor where his feet lay and mumbles, "never mind." Hannibal, whom at the moment has his nose buried in a road map, takes a quick glance at Murdock, he sighs,
"B.A I think Murdock is worried about Faceman. You should really be more supporting." B.A growls, "The day I support him is the day I die." Murdock whimpers and draws back into the seat. Watching the trees become a blur outside the van window.
"Ok, so we all know that Face's favorite bar is the Naked Lady," Hannibal stated, almost laughing B.A interrupts, "like that'd be a surprise." Hannibal rolls his eyes and directs the van into the direction of the bar. Once there, they search the area. Murdock calls for his imaginary dog, which never comes to help him. He looks down at the ground shifting under his weight and sighs, knowing that Billy isn't coming along on this rescue mission.
Face's eyes shift around in his blurred vision. He can feel sharp tingling feelings above his brow. He can only guess weather he'd been cut upon his forehead, or if that is the sign that he will lose consciousness soon. Quickly, so he won't waste the time he has to himself, he glances about the room, looking for a small tool or spring he could mold carefully into a cutting device, to release the bonds that hold him.
Through the hours that the team had been searching for him, Decker had gone to work. He lies now, in a pool of his own blood. The clothing around his torso was cut and torn by a whip that was swung fiercely by the military officer. His wrists and ankles are bruised and torn by the chains and ropes that were assigned to them. Around his neck there are small slits and deeply colored bruises. Blood trickles down his forehead and mixes with the hair of his eyebrows, turning there light brown color into a deep maroon.
Unable to move, unable to aid himself, he sits helpless, afraid that if more blood is lost he'll never be able to see his precious Danielle, or the team members he had bonded with. He coughs until lungs fill with pain and he wheezes, trying to pull air back into the starving organs. His eyes fill with tears, and he cries curling around his painful chest on the cold concrete floor. "Help," He cries, "Someone, please help me..."