A/N: Giant beasts ruin everyone's fun. LOL

Now, enjoy some Williams-Hamato tag-teaming. :D

Chapter 32: Pit

Blaine Williams didn't often question Donna; some things were best left unsaid. However, he found it maddening not knowing where he stood or how far he had traveled in the last several hours.

"Was the blindfold necessary?" the cop asked in a harsh whisper. His hand rose with a bandana and two earplugs in its tight grasp, yet Donna smiled as if the objects were normal to carry around.

"It's standard protocol," she answered, glossing over the dark corner they faced. "You aren't initiated."

"Initiated?" Blaine was almost scared to ask. "Initiated into what?"

A short paused followed, where the blonde's grin strengthened through the obscured lighting as she shook her coworker's hand. "Welcome to the Pit, Bling Blaine."

"You take me on a blind drive and then shove me into a place called the—know what? I'll never make it to retirement. Between Hugh, Noah, and you I'll be gray-haired and dead by the time—"

Clank!

Blaine spun—not from fear or shock over an opened door, but from annoyance. After so long, he was ready to meet the alleged EPF member Donna stowed away last winter. His shoe thumped against the concrete floor while the scarecrow of a man stumbled towards a metal seat. The brunette barley fit in the furniture due to his length, not mass, and Blaine frowned at how low his head hung, as if he had been in…

'Is this a prison?'

"What do you want, Sloan?" the captive started—a faint, tired action.

"You've talked with him before?" Blaine asked Donna.

She continued smiling under his hard stare. "A few times. But Mahoney here wouldn't say much and my visits are…limited."

Had they more time, Blaine would question the madness further. But for now, he settled, and regarded Mahoney after a steady inhale.

"The member's last name is Mahoney?" questioned a voice in Blaine's ear.

The blonde halted, having forgotten the setup even Donna wasn't aware of yet. "Yes, Donatello," he said while pressing a small receiver inside his ear.

"Can you get me a first name?"

'Frickin' people all trying to puppeteer—'

"Hello," Blaine greeted. He leaned forward on a narrow table—the only other furniture present within the little room—and smiled, albeit bitterly. "I'm Officer Williams and I have some questions for you, Mister…?"

"Agent Mahoney," the captive substituted. Okay, so he didn't give out a first name like prompted.

"Is that what it says on your birth certificate?"

"Why do you care?"

"No reason." The male blonde shrugged. "Just wondering why you'd keep a title from an organization that hasn't bothered to find you."

"I'm sure Bishop's looking," Mahoney hissed, rattling his shackles.

"Point out how low his status was."

Tapping a hand against his bugged ear, Blaine refrained from challenging Donatello and added, "You were pawn status, at best, Mahoney. Why would he bother?"

"Because I know things."

"Like where they'd keep prisoners?"

Slowly, the scraggly man grinned through his matted hair. "Lose someone, Officer? Please tell me it was that oaf from the Property Office."

God, Blaine wanted to hit the table so badly. His fists shook beside him, itching for movement, but Donna touched them, reminding him to breathe.

"That oaf's name is Hugh," the woman said while rounding Blaine. "He's kind'a our friend. Our best friend. So if you have any idea how to get him back, you should say."

"Or else what?" Scoffing, Mahoney leaned back in his metal seat. "I guarantee you, anything you people come up with in this pit is paradise compared to what Bishop'll do to your friend."

"Wanna bet?" Blaine snarled while slamming his palms against the tabletop.

"Blaine," warned Donatello, "we need to make it seem like we're in control. Don't succumb to his taunts; he should succumb to ours."

"I understand," the officer grumbled in return, his head ducked. "It's just that…Hugh has no clue. He's so…dense."

"Dense about what?" a second voice questioned over the line.

"Raph, I told you to stay quiet. We'll confuse Blaine."

"Please, if Mike were here, then he'd be confused."

"Having trouble?"

Blaine lifted his head so he could meet Mahoney's dark, sunken gaze. "Keep talking. We'll see who's in trouble."

"Give me one good reason why I should turn against the EPF."

"I'll give you a hint," Donna noted. "It isn't a new life, money, food, or a lack of obligation."

"How about morale?"

"Are you kidding me, Donatello?"

"No. Press the reason he's with the EPF."

Blaine sighed. "Has joining Bishop been everything you expected?"

"No one's ever prepared to join him," Mahoney replied, voice lowering.

"How so?" Donna asked.

Mahoney sent her a leer. "You never know what Bishop's going to do next. Who he'll use."

"Why stick with a boss like that?"

"Most of us accept what is, like soldiers. Some have no choice. And the rest? They're there for selfish reasons."

"Which are you, Mahoney?" Blaine interjected. "Are you a soldier, desperate, or selfish?"

"A little of all, I guess. What does it matter?"

"A man's motive is telling. What he strives for, how he lives, that's what defines him. Are you saying yours doesn't matter to you?"

Clicking his tongue, Mahoney arched his spine while rolling his eyes. "It did matter. Once. In fact, I completely disregarded my mother's expectations so I could become an architect with the EPF."

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. "You dreamed of being an architect?"

"Yeah," the prisoner replied with a scoff. "Ma didn't like the idea. I can still hear her nagging now: 'Julius, get away from that drafting table and tend the cows! Mahoney Farms has been in business nearly seventy years, and I won't have you jeopardize our family title. You hear?'"

The cops exchanged looks as Mahoney began chuckling. The younger one pretended to take a swig of a strong drink, insinuating with her rolling head that the EPF soldier was drunk. But Blaine knew it was unlikely.

"I have a full name and a farm to tie it to," Donatello said over the earpiece. "Thanks, Blaine."

"And what does that matter?" whispered Blaine. He planned on waiting for a reply, but Donna's suspicious gaze made him clear his throat. "So, Julius," he started as the prisoner cursed his slip of the tongue, "as an architect, would you know where Bishop would build his prisons?"

"Up yours," Mahoney spat.

"Wait, Blaine," Donna interjected in time to catch the fist the older blonde meant to deliver. "If we break his jaw, then he really won't say anything!"

"Least then his silence would be justified!"

"I don't owe you bastards anything!" Mahoney cried.

The older blonde faced him in a rage, shaking. "Unlike Bishop, right? You must owe him everything since he made your wild dreams come true, Cinderella."

"He gave me an opportunity, and you think I don't regret taking it? I told you, no one's ever prepared…"

Silence.

"Blaine," Donatello chimed in, "Mahoney was born in Birmingham, Alabama to a single mother in a large family. She raised him along with her parents, who died a few years back. Since most of his cousins chose government careers after he left, the farm went under. His aunt and uncle couldn't sustain it, and his mother fell ill from stress. She's in a hospital now."

"What do you regret, Agent?" Blaine asked in an undertone. "That you didn't make it far in the architect world? Or that your dear old Ma has been killing herself on that farm ever since you left?"

"How do you…?" Mahoney blinked, as if the rapid motion could keep him from gawking. "You know nothing about my Ma."

Shrugging, the blonde man ran a hand through his thick hair, listening to Donatello's guidance. "According to Birmingham news, she was a hard worker. Diligent, stern, and giving. She found pride in her farm and wanted you to be a part of it. But then you left. Her parents died. And your cousins broke away as well, probably because of your influence."

"Shut up," Mahoney whispered. His bony fingers clenched tighter on the table, but Blaine feared them as much as an outburst from his children.

"So if your mother dies"—Blaine kept his tone flippant on purpose, to see the prisoner tense even further—"then, in a way, it means you killed her. Right?"

"I said shut the fuck up!" Mahoney's whole body shook now, from his shaggy hair, down his scarecrow form, to his blackened, bare feet. He maintained a glare up until the moment Donna threw herself against the table.

"You're secretly a Mama's Boy, aren't you?" she questioned, leaning closer towards Mahoney.

"The idiot should've caved long ago," the prisoner countered. "It—it's not my fault she wouldn't give it up. It's not my fault she's…"

"You know," Donna started softly, "I'm sure we can arrange for you to meet her again. If you tell us where Hugh might be."

"I can't."

"But you don't owe Bishop anything. Remember?"

"I took this job without realizing what it entailed. Now, I'm stuck. I can't even let a broken man die in peace without Bishop injecting me with all kinds of shit. Kingston deserved better than to rot in a cell."

"Who's Kingston?" Donna asked, thin brows furrowed.

"He knew Kingston?" Donatello sounded surprised, yet didn't pause for long. "Nevermind. If he released Kingston, maybe…"

"Maybe he don't agree with Bishop after all," Raphael added. "An' he won't say nothin' 'cuz—"

"Because he could be in a similar situation like Melody was with Stephens."

"Which means what?" hissed Blaine into his hand.

"Blaine?" Donna slipped away from the table to give her friend a concerned look. "You okay?"

Stepping backwards, Blaine avoided her touch, a snide smirk across his face. "Just have some bugs in my ears. They'll go away soon. I hope."

"Not until we—"

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"Hey," Raphael said over the beeping, "it's Mikey."

"Raph, what did I say about confusing—"

"He should hear this, Genius. He's supposed ta be here anyway."

Before Donatello protested any further, Raphael answered the call. Static followed. Then, panting. It seemed distressed, not erotic like a prank, and its alarm brought Blaine to the room's dark corner again.

"What's going on?" he asked, low.

"I—I don't know," Donatello answered. "Mikey? What's up?"

"H—hell…hello?" a small, feminine voice replied.

"Starberry Girl?" Raphael growled. "What are ya doin' with—"

"We need help," the girl croaked near hysterics. "We were by Madison a—a—and they came out of nowhere. Th—the cani."

"What the hell are cani, Pink?"

"I—I—I didn't meant to. I couldn't. I tried moving, but…Then he told me to run and—oh, God, he won't stop bleeding."

"Who won't?" asked Donatello in a thin tone.

"Please. You know him; right, Nightwatcher?" Whoever Starberry Girl was, she paused to gulp loudly, her breath shuddering. "Help him. Find a way to help him. Please."

"Don—"

"Already pulling up his signal," Donatello told Raphael. "Blaine—"

"I understand," Blaine whispered back. "I have some questions about the Nightwatcher thing, but they can wait. Go get your brother."

"Your brother matters, too," the genius noted with a sigh. "Ask Mahoney if the injections done by Bishop made it so he physically can't say anything without being killed. Think Nazi spies, only the cyanide caps aren't voluntary. It should give you a good lead."

"Thanks." Lips taunt, Blaine wheedled the earpiece out of place then slipped it into his slack's pocket. Once his back was straightened, the cop spun on a heel, zoning onto the prisoner who peered up through wild brown hair.

"Problems, Officer?" questioned Mahoney.

Blaine kept his back strong while strolling forward. "You mentioned Bishop injecting you with shit. I'm curious to know what kind. Can you tell me?"

The dark eyes said it all. Their fear, frustration, tiredness—it translated into a glare that Blaine couldn't mistake. So he grinned, saying,

"Let's try something new."

.

Hun sent Pierce a long, hard stare in the hall. The fool knew better than to maintain the pompous smirk he had arrived with, and yet he wore it proudly around HQ anyway. Hun was curious as to why.

"Your meeting with Nikt had better have gone well," the PD leader started while raising his strong chin.

The dark-skinned cyborg snickered, clicking his blade fingers in a habit Hun loathed. "If anything, watching him squirm made things worth it."

Hun's eyes narrowed.

"Okay, okay, Boss." Standing at attention, Pierce turned serious—like he should've at the beginning. "Hugh Reese's arrest opened new doors. Nikt has been granted higher clearance in the EPF because of his high belief in the man's guilt. Think Bishop favors him for his hate alone."

"What has he learned?"

"Bishop's been cooking up experiments, although Nikt gets the feeling they're more about animals than cyborgs."

"So he hasn't found out where Hunt, Rojo, and Amanda are?"

Pierce stepped back when Hun's fingers curled, yet continued. "He's got his foot in the door—"

"That's not good enough!" Slamming a fist against the hall's wall, the PD leader snarled, cracking the cement as if it were made of crackers. "We planted it all—every bit of evidence against Reese—in reassurance Nikt can get us a location!"

"H—he's been sharing limelight with another officer," Pierce countered with raised, bladed hands. "A kiss-up. They're both advancing in the program, but he needs to be careful not to push so hard. Bishop will really suspect something then."

"I don't care how he does it," said Hun in a deep whisper, "he will find my cyborgs within the next week."

"Well"—Pierced shifted, his hands falling—"there is good news."

Hun pressed further by glaring.

"The, uh, Commissioner is doing a survey soon. He wants Nikt and another officer to walk the new base and see Hugh, as reassurance that Bishop's following the law. And you know where Bishop keeps Hugh—"

"Will likely be the same pit he'd keep Hunt. Or at least clues to his whereabouts."

"Exactly."

Hun didn't want to smile, yet couldn't help it: Pierced looked so relieved to end the conversation with his teeth intact. "Keep a trail on Nikt," the blonde started, upbeat. "The moment he leaves that hell hole, bring him up to me. I don't care who's watching."

Pierce gave a wheezy laugh, flicking his blades against one another. "Why, Boss, that's what I live for."

A/N: Hun's getting a LITTLE restless. That will come to a head soon. *rubs hands together* Hope you enjoyed Donna. Girl is...something else.

Next up: "Fear". It's ALL about our favorite hero duo! More of Sophia's past is revealed and it brings her a little closer to Michelangelo, despite the grimness. :)