Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 5 Limpy
He had been through the alphabet, naming every comic book character he could remember . . . twice. The exercise was preventing him from hallucinating but it didn't subdue his concern over Amy's safety and welfare.
He wondered why his captors were leaving him alone for so long. Not that he wanted to find out what they wanted him for. If it was anything like the last mission he did for the Agency . . .
No! I won' think o' that. That wasn' me. Looked 'n' talked like me, but that wasn' me. Think o' the present, not the past . . . think o' the present . . .
Murdock remembered the team's discussion of Hannibal's plan to bring the Tannini organization to justice. That seemed so very long ago now. How long ago he had no way of knowing. Time was being measured by the sound of liquid dripping and the pain he was inflicting upon himself to keep his mind focused.
Both Face and he had argued with Hannibal about allowing her to accompany Murdock to Giuseppe Tannini's office. The Colonel didn't like the idea either but the journalist showed no signs of giving up.
"It's dangerous, Colonel. You know that." Face cast an overly protective glance in Amy's direction. "If Tannini's doing what we think he's doing and they get caught, he'll think nothing of killing Murdock and selling Amy into prostitution to the highest bidder."
"Gotta agree, Hannibal. I got my cloak to hide me when I go in, but it sure ain' big 'nough to hide the both o' us." He blushed when he realized what he said and gave Amy a sheepish grin. "Not sayin' yer chubby 'r anythin', darlin'."
The invisibility cloak was Murdock's latest fixation ever since he read the latest Fantastic Four comic book. In it, The Invisible Woman sneaked into a Mob boss's office and emerged with a file full of incriminating documents. Sue Storm not only could make herself invisible with her own superhero powers but she could conjure up force fields to protect herself and others.
That would be useful, he thought to himself as they discussed Hannibal's plan. For now, he was content to use what he had. He patted the pocket of his jacket where his invisibility cloak was.
"It's barely big 'nough to hide Billy's doghouse from the head nurse. It'd be a tight squeeze under that cloak for the two o' us." He gave Face a mischievous grin. "Come to think o' it, that might be kinda fun. Right, chica? Ow!" Murdock protested as the Lieutenant swatted him across the head with a rolled up newspaper. The blow sent the pilot's navy blue cap flying and him ducking for cover in case Face decided to follow it up with another swat.
B. A. snorted. "Hit 'im again, Faceman. Make the fool realize ain't no such thing as a cloak makes you invisible. There's nothin' in that pocket of yours and there ain't no dog neither."
The pilot crossed his arms and pouted as he looked at Face and B. A. with disgust. "You o' so li'l faith," he fumed.
"That's alright, Murdock. I don't need a cloak. I can be as careful as the rest of you. Besides, I know the names you're looking for from the research I've done on this story so far." Amy put her hands on her hips and stared the Colonel in the eyes.
Man, she's cute when she's stubborn, Murdock thought to himself as he gave her a discreet once-over. No wonder Faceman's got his sights on 'er.
"It's either both of us or you don't get the list of names to send Tannini away and shut down his operation." The journalist arched an eyebrow and waited. Murdock smirked, knowing Hannibal and Face together were no match for Amy when she was determined to be part of a mission.
Heck, even B. A. can' hold 'er down when she wants t' do somethin' bad 'nough.
In the end, Hannibal grudgingly agreed to her terms.
As B. A. and the Colonel created a diversion at the building housing Tannini's escort service storefront, Face served as a lookout for Amy and Murdock. Amy went in disguised as an after hours cleaning lady. Murdock reluctantly wore a janitor's uniform, insisting his cloak was disguise enough. Even so, Amy noted he was careful to avoid the security cameras.
They had almost been successful.
Murdock frowned behind the blindfold. They would have been successful if not for the quartet of ski-masked men.
Pretty sure who these losers work for, too. Lord help the both o' us if I'm right.
All he needed to hear was one voice, a voice as familiar to him as Hannibal's, Face's or B. A.'s to confirm his suspicions. A voice he never wanted to hear again after the last mission he did for the Company which had gone south on them all ten years before. The mission that never quite made it into his official military record or any other, for that matter.
A door opened and closed again with a click. Footsteps, one person, a person who seemed to have an uneven gait, approached him. He remembered back to the man who had pressed the elevator button. "Limpy" was the name Murdock decided to assign his captor.
He smirked at his unseen visitor. "Glad ya came t' visit. Pull up a chair, rest a spell."
He wasn't surprised when his comment yielded a full force back hand blow that snapped his head to the side. Tasting blood from the laceration in his mouth, feeling the pain in his cheekbone and cheek, he took a deep breath and silently thanked the man for refocusing his thoughts.
Pretty sure Limpy won' tell me where Amy is even if I asked. Conversation ain' what any o' these guys're 'bout.
Limpy was snugging up the restraints, checking what Murdock assumed was the IV tubes in both arms. A localized sting in the vicinity of one of the entry points alerted him to what else the man was doing.
"So what kinda juice ya feedin' inta me?" he drawled. 'N' what's it gonna do t' me?
No answer. With a final tug on one of the wrist restraints, Limpy seemed satisfied. The pilot heard uneven footsteps walk away to his right. They returned with the sound of squeaking wheels accompanying them.
Murdock tried thinking of something he could hum to prevent the fear of the unknown from consuming him but all he could think of was the Rolling Stones' song "Paint It Black." In the condition he found himself, the lyrics to the third verse were not encouraging.
I look inside myself and see my heart is black.
I see my red door and it has been painted black.
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts;
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black.
He heard more squeaky wheels approaching from the left. Round adhesive-backed patches were being applied to both arms and calves. He had felt the same type of sensation during stress tests at the VA hospital. The strap around his chest loosened to allow six more patches to be placed. Then it was tightened up again in a new position just under the patches. A click from behind his left shoulder and a series of steady beeps told him what had just been done.
Why do they gotta monitor my heart? This ain' lookin' good.
Sweat broke out over his body. The open wounds where he had torn his skin open from rubbing against the restraints burned. Droplets beaded on his chest, back and forehead and trickled down.
The heart rate monitor was beeping faster. His own pulse was thundering in his ears.
"What'd ya give me?" He forced the words out and heard no responding sound but the quickening beeps to his left.
Amphetamines? This's gonna be a chemical train wreck with the other stuff I take.
He groaned his growing discomfort. The shuffling footsteps paused beside him. Someone made sure the wrist and ankle restraints and the strap over his thighs and abdomen were tight. Then the footsteps receded. A door clicked shut in the distance.
His mind was racing too fast. Impossible thoughts ricocheted around in the deep recesses of his brain and created panic.
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue.
I could not foresee this thing happening to you.
If I look hard enough into the setting sun,
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes.
His head lolled back as wave after wave of whispered voices threatened him. He began to descend into a psychotic nightmare courtesy of a simple blindfold and the drugs being pumped into his veins through the IV. He could not control the emergence of the white dots nor what they morphed into after appearing. Nor could he stop the series of terrified cries which escaped his lips as in his mind the images with the slavering jaws and ravenous appetites attacked him.