A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I apologize for taking so long to update!

~M~

Peter managed to get through the door first. "Mike? Micky?"

Davy ran in and noticed their guests gathered around the telephone. He went over to them while Peter searched the house. "What's going on?"

Mr. Sweney looked up from the paper he was writing on. "Micky told us that if anything went wrong with Michael's broadcast, we should call everyone we know who is affected by those parking lots and have them call the station showing their support for Michael."

"If something went wrong?" Davy felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "What went wrong?"

"We aren't sure." Mrs. Homer flipped through the phone book. "There wasn't a broadcast. They simply said that there had been technical difficulties."

"Do you know for sure that they made it to the station? Nobody stopped them on the way?"

Mrs. Filchok finished her call and hung up the phone. "Only Mike went to the station. Micky went to city hall."

By this time Peter had joined them at the table. "Why would they split up?"

"Micky wanted to look for the two of you while Mike did the broadcast." Mrs. Homer looked at Peter. "He was worried you might have been captured or something. Have you been captured or something?"

"Or something." Davy shrugged as he tried to think of what they should do next. He wondered if he and Peter should split up to look for the others. No, that would just make it even easier for them to be picked off. He wondered what had happened to make Mike miss the broadcast. Surely Zeckenbush wouldn't try to hurt Mike in front of others. Davy sighed. But he might have bought off anyone who witnessed it. They knew by recent experience how quickly people could change loyalty when money was waved in their faces. There was also the possibility that Mike never even made it to the station. Zeckenbush had had someone following Davy and Peter. What was to say that he didn't have someone following Mike?

"I think we should go back to city hall. If that's where Micky went, Johnson may have grabbed him." Peter tapped his fingers on his legs to try to hide how nervous he was.

Davy nodded. "You're right. For all we know, Micky might have been upstairs while we were escaping. I doubt Johnson was very happy when he saw we were gone."

Mrs. Filchok looked at them worriedly. "You boys are going to get yourselves hurt. More than you already are." She took Davy's hand and held it up. His wrist was scraped and covered in dried blood.

Davy looked at his other wrist. It matched the first one. He guessed it was from the ropes. "I didn't even notice."

"You should stay here and get cleaned and bandaged. You can meet me at city hall." Peter turned so he didn't have to see Davy's injuries.

"Absolutely not! We are not splitting up! They're not bleeding, I'm fine. Doesn't even hurt." Davy yanked his hand away from Mrs. Filchok.

"What if they get infected?"

"What if you get captured again? There's a lot of 'what if's'." Davy took a deep breath. "We need to get Micky back. Then the three of us can figure out where Mike is and rescue him."

Peter slowly nodded. "You're right. But promise you'll get them taken care of as soon as this is over?"

"I promise. Come on, let's go find Micky."

Mr. Sweney sat down his pencil again. "Should we keep doing this? Is there something else we could do to help?"

Davy shook his head. "No, the people at the station need to know that there are people who support Mike. And I don't want anyone people going missing between here and city hall."

~M~

Mike felt like his head was going to explode. He tried to open his eyes. He closed them again immediately. Even as dim as it was, the light made his head throb and his stomach lurch.

"You know, you could audition for a monster picture and get lead role without any makeup."

Mike tried to lift his head and open his eyes again. He stopped. It felt like he was going to pass out. "Micky?"

"The one and only!" Micky's bravado told Mike that something was wrong. Obviously something was wrong, Mike couldn't get his head to stop spinning.

Mike let his chin drop back to his chest. He felt awful.

"No, you don't, Mike! Stay awake! You've got to stay awake!"

Mike raised his head again. Why did Micky sound so different? He finally managed to blink his eyes open. Once his sight cleared, he saw he was in what must be a basement. He looked down. Why was he tied to a chair?

"Mike?"

Mike slowly turned towards Micky's voice. "Micky?"

Micky smiled as Mike made eye contact. "That's better. I really was getting worried."

Mike was so confused. Micky was tied to a chair the same as him. Why? Where were they?

"How are you feeling, man?" Micky could tell that Mike was struggling.

Mike didn't answer. He just stared at Micky. "You're hurt," he said, finally.

"Well, sure, it'll be difficult to play drums with a dislocated shoulder, but at least I can tell which way is up. What did they do to you?"

Mike continued staring. "Why do you sound strange?"

Micky's eyebrows shot up as he looked down at his blood-soaked shirt and back at Mike. "Nosebleed."

"You should pinch your nose and lean your head back."

"Escaping is going to be interesting. You're not even on this planet." Micky sighed as he looked around for the hundredth time. Surely he could come up with a plan the way Mike usually does. Micky once again tried to pull on the ropes with his good arm.

He froze when he heard the door at the top of the stairs open. "Mike, someone's coming."

Mike looked at him blankly. "Are they bringing hot dogs?"

"What?"

The door in front of them opened and Johnson entered the room. "Good, he's awake."

"That depends on your definition of awake," Micky grumbled.

Johnson stepped out of the way as Zeckenbush marched in.

"Nesmith, it's over. I win. Now come with me and signed the papers verifyin' your withdrawal."

"But I'm not good at drawing."

"It's too late to save yourself by being funny. If you don't cooperate, I'll let Johnson have some more fun on your campaign manager here." Zeckenbush smiled at Micky's glare.

"I like fun. Let's play checkers." Mike's voice was slurring into a thicker accent than normal.

Zeckenbush's smile faded. "I've had enough of your antics, Nesmith." He snapped his fingers.

Johnson grinned as he punched Micky in the stomach. Micky cried out and leaned forward as far as the ropes would let him. Mike looked from Micky to Zeckenbush. "That wasn't very nice."

Zeckenbush stared at Mike. "What are you playin' at?"

"Aw, did the game start without me?"

"What is wrong with you?"

Micky struggled to get his lungs to work again. "What'd you expect, man? You tied him up in a basement instead of taking him to a doctor."

Zeckenbush watched Mike intently. He turned to Johnson. "Untie him and bring him upstairs."

"What about the other one?" Johnson slowly swung at Micky to see if he'd flinch, laughing at the anger on Micky's face.

"Leave him. He could still be of use. If not, we'll get rid of him later."

Micky fought against his bonds as Johnson cut the ropes holding Mike. "Leave him alone!"

Zeckenbush sighed. "Would you please shut up?"

"You'll never get away with this!"

"I'm so tired of people sayin' that." Zeckenbush stood in front of Micky. "Thankfully it's usually the last thing people say to me."

Johnson pulled Mike to his feet. Mike tried to take a step but stumbled. He fell to the ground. Johnson pulled him up again, only for Mike to end up back on the floor.

"Hurry up!" Zeckenbush walked over to the door. "As soon as I have his signature, I can have his withdrawal printed in the papers."

Johnson grabbed Mike under the arms to drag him out the door. Mike met Micky's gaze. His eyes darted to the pile of rope on the floor and back to Micky. Micky gave him a puzzled look. Mike glanced over at the ropes again and winked just before the door closed, leaving Micky alone.

Micky stared at the door. Had that whole thing been a charade?

He didn't see anything out of the ordinary about the rope. But Mike had seemed adamant that it was important. Gritting his teeth, Micky managed to scoot his chair a little closer.

Micky laughed despite the pain. One of the times Mike had fallen, Johnson set his knife down beside the rope and forgot about it.

"And that's why you make a great leader, Mike."