Callen P.O.V.
Callen looked around, his head throbbing. Where the hell was he? He remembered the car crash on his way home…
He had been driving home after a long case, shoulders slumped, one hand steering the wheel. As he parked near his house, a truck suddenly came bursting out of a small road, driving at high speed. With a glass shattering, door buckling crash, the truck plowed into his car. Callen was thrown left hard, but managed to sit up quickly with a slightly dazed look in his eyes. He managed to get up quickly and escaped into his house. He counted 5 men follow him, and 5 stay outside. Knowing he would be cornered if he ran any further into the house, Callen quickly spun around and sent a strong kick towards his first pursuer. The man ducked and they engaged in some furious hand-to-hand combat before the man went down. Callen turned around to face the next pursuer, but a tranquilizer dart hit him in the leg before he could do anything. He fell forward, unconscious before he even hit the floor…
Callen noticed the other people in the room, and felt slightly reassured than none of them were his teammates. He seemed to be the first one awake, though others were also stirring. He stayed still, not wanting to alert his kidnapper to the fact that he was awake. Callen had been captured before, but this was strange. The position he was in was strange. The fact that there were so many other people that he did not know there was strange. Still, it seemed like the only thing he could do for now was wait.
Isabella P.O.V.
"Hello, everybody." A man dressed in black appeared. Nobody reacted. The man chuckled.
"Oh, I know you're all awake, no need to keep pretending."
Isabella sighed resignedly and opened her eyes. She still couldn't believe she had gotten captured; she was a top agent at the CIA for god's sake. True, it had been her against ten men, but still. And even worse, she had no idea what was going on. She had no idea where she was, and no idea who these other people were. She did notice the people who were creating a semi-circle with her all looked fit, tough, strong. And the ten in the middle looked…normal.
"Now, I expect you're all quite confused the man continued. Let me explain. Except for the ten civilians in the middle, the rest of you are all top agents. Plus, you all know something, or some things that I would like very much to know. And now, you might think that you will always be brave and strong and stand up for your country, but let me tell you, the tools fear and pain have aided me so that I have yet to met a man I could not take information from. Now introductions. I am the captor. Civilian 1, 2, 3, 4. G Callen, NCIS. Isabella Knight, CIA…"
Isabella stiffened as she listened to the introductions. The man hadn't been lying; everyone here was someone she had heard numerous stories about. Very very impressive stories.
Suddenly, the sounds of machine guns rang out. A second later the ten civilians were dead. Isabella stared, shocked. The guns had appeared from the wall, and then had melted straight back into it. She couldn't believe it. Sure, she saw death everyday in her line of work, but seldom was it done so very emotionlessly. It was sickening.
"Consider that a warning to behave." The man said quite mildly. "Now, I seem to have a shortage of independent cells to keep you in, so you shall be sharing. Let's pair you up.
About ten minuets later, Isabella was sitting together in a tiny cell with Callen. The size of the cell was about the size of a single person bed. There was a TV screen covering the whole ceiling. Isabella was glad to notice that there was no video camera in here-hopefully it meant that her team would not be forced to watch any of this. The silence was getting slightly awkward when Callen decided to break it with:
"Considering this is a kidnapping, we seem to have been comparatively well taken care of so far."
Isabella looked at him incredulously. She could hear the slight sarcasm in his tone, but realized that he was right. The captives had been killed-but the ten agents all seemed to be in good condition. Still, the captor had talked about all their torturing rather like it would be happening soon.
"I'm pretty sure that that will change soon," Isabella said.
"My partner says that I'm pessimistic." Callen quipped with a smile,
Isabella smiled back. She understood banter; it was something that helped keep people sane in crazy situations. It was lighthearted; it didn't require any deep emotion sharing in-between two people. She definitely was not one to ever engage in any deep emotional conversations.
Callen P.O.V.
Callen found himself feeling quite impressed by Agent Knight. He had heard the stories about her, and he also knew that it took a good agent to keep calm in such dire situations. Callen thought about how strange it was that there were no camera's recording their every move in the cell.
All of a sudden, the TV screen above them flickered to life. It showed a man handcuffed to a beam on the ceiling. The captor was beating the man. Callen saw the agent fighting to keep quiet, but the captor just continued until the agent let out a horrible groan and begged for the captor to stop. At that point, the captor stopped and the screen went black. Callen understood all this.
Callen felt horror rising up in him. He didn't know these agents personally, but such acts should not be committed on any living person. Who was this captor and why was he doing things like this? What was his motive? This is why I do my job, he thought. So that guys like this go to jail. But there's nothing I can do now. Right now I'm the victim. The thought repulsed, and frightened him. It made him want to do anything to escape the torture. His fear was starting to take control and it was exactly what the captor was trying to achieve by making them watch the videos. Not long after the first agents groan and the screen going black, the screen lighted up again, this time with another agent. He remembered talking about her in OSP with Sam and Kensi the other day, discussing her feats in the US. She had managed to single- handedly bring down a bunch of guys with dangerous missiles. Her name was Sarah Wong. She worked for the FBI. It had been a humorous conversation between teammates, full of admiration for this spectacular agent. He had never thought that he would meet her, especially under such disastrous circumstances. Another face flashed up onto the screen.
"I worked with him once." A voice interrupted Callen's thoughts. "Andrew Maxwell, DEA. It was a joint task force. Whole bunch of people wanted to blow up a place. You probably know him as the guy who is currently on screen for our entertainment." Isabella said with a sarcastic laugh. "He's a good agent, a great agent. He did most of the work that day, going undercover, getting us all the evidence we needed against the bad guys." "You ever work with anybody here?"
"NCIS Los Angeles's work doesn't cross over much with other agencies." Callen replied. It was a half-truth. He had never worked with the other agents during his time at NCIS, but he had met some of them briefly before when he was with other agencies.
Isabella nodded, then went back to staring at the screen. She remembered how confident the agent had been the day of the mission. Now he was reduced to a shaking wreck. Her hate for the captor mounted up.
And so it continued, one agent by one agent, all beaten quite badly, all eventually screaming or groaning in pain. Name after name flashed through Callen's mind as he remembered things he knew about each of these people. Callen knew that it would be either him or Agent Knight next. The captor had not demanded any information from them. He was smart; he knew that these agents would not give information away easily. He was content to win small battles for now. He glanced over at Agent Knight and noticed that she was sitting in a position that was neither too tense nor too casual, a position that gave nothing away.
At this moment, their captor appeared. He picked Callen up from the handcuffs and dragged him from the room. When they arrived at what Callen called the torture chamber in his head, the captor handcuffed Callen to the wall, his wrists locked together above his head. He felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as his heart rate sped up, his body tensed and everything around him seemed to begin to slow down. As Callen's shirt was torn away from him, he was pretty sure that he knew what was coming. Sure enough, a whip lashed into his back, tearing his skin. Callen stifled a groan as he steeled himself for the upcoming ordeal.
Isabella P.O.V
Now that she was alone Isabella couldn't stop a small gasp as she saw Callen chained to the wall with a whip lying besides him, ready for the captor to use. She could see that new items had been bought into the room. Items used for drowning, electrocuting, whipping. Items used to cause much more pain than bare fists. But why? Why was Callen being treated differently from the others? She had to admit that out of the ten agents, she and Callen were probably the two best ones, the ones most unlikely to break. She disliked the thought, as she disliked any form of bragging. But there had to be a reason why whipping had been bought into the equation. Also, would she also be getting this "special treatment?" She might have had countless hours of training, but they hadn't taught her not to fear. Fear could keep you alive and fighting, but it could also destroy you. A crazed fear entered her mind and body, stripped away her control, making only thoughts centered on keeping herself alive. She couldn't die. She didn't want to die. She wished that she had something she could break the TV screen with. Torture was bad enough, but having to watch it happen to other people too? That just made it so many times worse. She hoped that her team was finding out who he was, and would come storming in here soon, shooting him straight in the heart.
The thought disappeared from her mind as she saw the captor rip off Callen's shirt. He looked good without a shirt…Isabella immediately kicked herself? Where on earth had that thought come from? This was hardly the time or place, and besides, she was never so unprofessional. Just then, the whipping started. Isabella watched on. After the tenth lash, the captor finally stopped. Callen had not let out a single sound or movement. She allowed herself to feel impressed and also relieved that the captor had not kept going until Callen reacted. Still, Callen was already by far hurt worst that any of the other ten. So far.
The captor threw Callen in roughly, not bothering to cuff him again, obviously knowing that Callen would not have the strength to resist or escape after the whipping. Isabella was dragged out of the cell and into another room. A tub of water lay there, and Isabella felt her fear rise tenfold. Different memories fought for dominance in her mind. No…not drowning. The captor wasted no time, pushing her head under a tub of water. When Isabella's lungs were at the point where she felt like they would burst, the captor pulled her up and shocked her. The shock caused more pain, but the drowning was much more traumatic. Her natural flight or fight instincts began to take in as adrenaline surged through her. Drown, shock. This went on for ten times. Adrenaline war really more of a hindrance than help; extra energy was of no use when what you really needed was to calm down and stay still. Drown, shock, drown, and shock. Isabella fought down the terror rising in her. This definitely counted as the "special" treatment, it was much worse than simply getting beaten up. She got hauled back into her cell. As soon as the door closed, she began humming a little melody to herself. It was a familiar tune that she used to hum every time after she nearly drowned as a kid…it was soothing, and calmed her.
A minuet later, the captor re-opened the door, threw a medical kit in, and then said to the two of them: "Clean each other up."
Next chapter: Meanwhile back at OSP…