Ian Rider grinned as he tore the black hooded mask off of his victim. It was so much fun to kidnap people, he thought. He exhaled slowly. If only the law did not consider abduction an offense – Ian Rider would kidnap many more people.

At least the New York State Police Department was on his side, he thought with a grin. He had worked there when he was younger. Not many people there took their oaths seriously. Ian Rider smirked as he watched the man he was holding captive blink in shock. "What is your name?" Ian Rider growled as he pressed against Eagle's already injured arm, holding the man back against the wall.

"Why… do you need to know?" Eagle asked warily, his eyes on the knife that was held in Ian's hands. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that he could be killed because of the fact that he had tried to protect Alex.

Sure, he knew he could have died anytime during his training at SAS, but did he really have to die during his week off?

Morbidly, Eagle wondered whether or not the sergeant had anyone looking for them yet. On one hand, he hadn't checked in. On another hand, since when did Eagle ever follow the rules with to a 'T'? Eagle knew that his only hope was that he had checked in the first time on time; that might give the sergeant some motivation for finding him.

Or for at least calling the rescue squad.

Ian Rider grinned, an evil smirk on his face. "Your name," he said, taking out the bread knife that he had stolen from the house. It was now time to make good use of it and abandon it in an alley blocks away.

"I asked," Eagle said through clenched teeth, always hating to repeat himself, "Why on earth you needed it?" Part of him wanted to say, go ask Alex, but the other part of him knew that would be signing Cub's death warrant.

"You're asking for it," Ian growled. He forced Eagle to lay on his stomach and lifted up his shirt sleeve. He had forced Eagle to change after they'd arrived; he was planning on shipping Eagle's clothes back to the sergeant. A wicked idea appeared in Ian's mind. He could send the bread knife back to the sergeant! That would be a great idea. "Name."

"Fuck you," Eagle said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fox always said the torture was worse if you had to look at the instrument the torturer was using. Fox would know - he was held as POW for six months by an unfriendly country before he'd joined the SAS.

Eagle hoped he didn't have to be held captive six months. Even getting out of latrine duty forever wasn't worth that.

"No, fuck you," Ian responded. He then took the bread knife and positioned it on Eagle's skin. Eagle winced as he felt the blade, trying hard not to move. Stillness had never been one of his strong points. "Your name. I'm not asking for a miracle, here; I just want your name!"

Eagle remained silent this time, wondering if that would antagonize Ian more or de-escalate the situation. His eyes remained tightly shut. He may be prepared to take this for his country, but that didn't mean that he wanted too.

"You had your chance," Ian growled. Maintaining his position, he decided that something more had to be done. He should have known. An SAS member wasn't just going to roll over lightly. He took the knife he held and cut it into the bird's skin.

"Fine," Ian responded. "You won't tell me your name? Then I'll carve it into your arm." Ian grinned as he cut the knife into the surface of Eagle's arm, making Eagle wince as he felt the knife. First, the letter 'E' appeared on Eagle's skin. By the time the final cut happened on the letter E, Eagle had finally given up and screamed.

Ian hadn't given the man a chance to redeem himself. He had tried to be polite before and it hadn't worked. He couldn't understand why his mother always said being polite was better – it was being aggressive that got the answers.

Growling, Eagle didn't try and fight back, knowing from experience that fighting back from open knife wounds was painful.

Flashback

"I just wanted your f-n' name," the man growled as he dug into Fox's skin. It was the SAS team's first mission and it was a disaster. Eagle and Fox had ended up being captured and separated from their comrades, held hostage by Iraq criminals who were posing as police officers. "For the record books."

"Go to hell," Fox growled. It looked like he was going to have a short-lived SAS career: this was the 2nd time he had been kidnapped.

"No, but you're going there, soon, if you don't tell me what I want to know." The man grabbed Eagle and slammed him against the wall. "Tell me your name, or I'll kill your comrade."

Eagle's determined eyes met Fox's. They had been told that Wolf and Snake were dead. Both knew there was virtually no hope of a rescue. But that didn't mean that they were going to roll over and give up.

Eagle shook his head quickly at Fox, and then said, "No, don't tell him my name –he'll think we're pussies for giving in too easy."

That startled Fox into a short burst of laughter. "He'll think we're what?"

End Flashback

The pain brought Eagle back to reality. Eagle would never forget his codename now, even if he wanted too. The hoarse screams that he'd heard had been his. Ian was almost finished carving his code name wrong.

"Now," Ian said, "Your name, please?" He didn't really need Eagle's name. There was no point in gaining a name from a victim you were planning on killing. But he didn't want to start on Alex until Blunt got there, and this would give him something fun to do in the meantime.

"Go to hell," Eagle growled as he looked at Ian.

## break ##

Katakana, Wolf, Snake, and Fox were all handcuffed. They were thrown one-by-one into the black van. All had their mouths duct-taped shut and had pillowcases thrown over their heads. Wolf knew Katakana would be suffering the most, and felt bad for saying he wasn't good to work with earlier. But he only felt mildly bad, because Wolf had very limited empathy.

You would think this was straight out of a warzone or something, Wolf thought. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the handcuffs he wore around his wrist. The NYPD officer hadn't bothered to be gentle when handcuffing him but had instead handcuffed him tightly.

Even if these were legit police officers, Wolf knew that this method of transport – duct-taping their mouths and the like – was completely illegal. So that left the question of how the NYPD was corrupt, and what they could do for their side.

Probably, not much.

The four men were herded out into the abandoned area. Wolf growled as he was forced down a flight of stairs. He silently thanked God for his sight – he hated being blind. He winced as his police officer shoved him non-too-gently against the wall.

It made Wolf almost pity for the people who he'd tormented earlier to get answers. Then again, maybe not. He sighed. He wished the NYPD would give them some great clue as to why they were here – it would be helpful.

One by one, their masks were ripped off, and the duct tape was removed from their mouths. Wolf remained silent, not wanting to antagonize the gunman.

You are here for crimes against the state of New York," the first police officer spoke up. Wolf somehow knew it would be very bad to interrupt him, so he just waited for a pause. "You are charged with first degree murder. We have been actively staking out that house, and you were all in it. We think that you are all guilty."

The shock that was clearly visible on his friends' faces surely must have mirrored Wolf. Recalling some of his drug classes, Wolf thought, is this man high?

"We can and will torment you anyway we want to get the answers you know," the second man spoke up. "We are not the NYPD. We are the CIA, and we have special permission to use force in this situation."

"Like this," the first man said, speaking up. He picked up his rifle, and shot Katakana point blank in the chest, ignoring Fox's screams.

## break ##

Thanks for all your reviews!

Challenge:

Who thinks Katakana will survive the bullet?