It happened so fast, Ludwig wasn't entirely sure what happened before he was knocked unconscious. He was fighting the brother, and he thought he had the upper hand. He had him pinned down and then… and then… something hit him in the side of the head. No, someone else came to their aid. Yes, that's what happened. But the first blow didn't knock him unconscious, merely stunning him. It was the boot to the face that was the finishing blow. He remembered trying to get his bearings, stunned and dazed. He had crawled a ways away when a kick to the ribs forced him onto his back. Then the kick to the face.

Now he was tied to a chair, his arms tied down to the arms of the chair with… God his head, everything was a blur… why did his forearms hurt so bad? He blinked, trying to clear the fog. He grew aware of the warm, sticky sensation of blood running down the side of his head. He was concussed, he was sure of it. His vision began to clear and he struggled a bit in his bindings when a cry of pain involuntarily left his throat. His gaze focused on his bindings, which he was now conscious enough to recognize the material tying him down to be the cause of the pain in his arms. Barbed wire, the schweinhunds! The sharp points dug into his flesh, his arms aching from the pain.

He tried to get a look at his surroundings, but his head would throb with every movement. But it was the smell that drew his attention. The smell of animals, hay. A barn he concluded. But that left the question, where were his captors? They were probably close, he would guess.

Was the team looking for him? Were they even aware he was missing? Did they take the girl and leave without him? Surely Heavy wouldn't abandon him, he was supposed to be his friend!

"Well, well, well," came a strong southern voice, pulling the medic from his spiraling thoughts, "Look who's awake."

Ludwig wearily looked up to get a look at his captor's face. He was a taller man, probably close to Ludwig's own height if not a bit taller. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses despite the dim lighting. A cowboy hat sat atop his dirty blonde hair.

"Who…the hell are you?" Ludwig questioned spitefully, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that shot through his skull with each word he spoke. The man chuckled and, leaning down to Fritz's eye level, pressed down on the barbed wire around the medic's left arm. A cry of pain erupted from his throat. He felt fresh blood trickle from his arm.

"I'm the man that's gonna make you talk." He said, matter of factly. He stood upright and walked off to a workbench a few paces away.

"'talk'?" He questioned with a scoff, "about what?"

"About your friends. We know there's at least two of you. In fact, we got someone going to take care of your sniper as we speak. But what I wanna know is who else is with you?"

"Shit," Ludwig thought to himself, "Mundy is in trouble."

"What makes you think we are not alone?"

"I'm no fool, buddy. But if you want to make this complicated, then by all means make my day." The man chuckled and picked something up, turning to Ludwig. It was an electric rod. This man meant to torture him, and the medic had a feeling that it was only going to get worse from here.

Mick fired another shot, picking off the guards one by one while they were focused on the others. "You've got a forehead on ya like a coffee table, mate." He mumbled to himself as he shot yet another guard. They were easy pickings. What was that? Number ten? Eleven? He's lost count. He chuckled. He was enjoying himself, maybe a bit too much.

The hairs on the back of his suddenly stood on end, a sixth sense he had worked years to hone. Situational awareness, and right now he felt someone creeping up on him. He quickly turned, throwing his gun up just in time to block the knife coming down on him. The person shoved him away, slamming his back into the wall. Mick threw up his gun to shoot the person but they quickly wrangled it from his grasp, tossing it to the side. Mick pulled out his knife, lunging forward at his attacker.

The attacker dodged the blade and slashed downwards, striking Mundy's arm at an angle. He grunted and stumbled back, glancing at his bleeding tricep.

"You bloody ratbag!" The sniper exclaimed. Now he was ticked off. He kicked his opponent in the chest, sending them back into the wall. Mick lunged forward, slashing his attacker across the face, but he was fast. After the first strike, the attacker grabbed the sniper by the wrist. He twisted, forcing Mick to drop his knife. Mundy's opponent then kicked him in the knee. Mick cried out in pain and was suddenly shoved back. He lost his footing and fell back, crashing through the old weakened stairs that couldn't handle the sudden impact of a 180 pound man's sudden weight. He cried out as he fell to the ground below, his back slamming into the dirt below, the air knocked from his lungs. He let out a pained gasp for air. His entire body hurt. He tried to move but it sent a shock of pain down his back and through his chest so agonizing he felt he would pass out.

Each breath was agony as his lungs expanded against his broken ribs, and by the rattling noise in his chest one of his lungs was most likely punctured by a broken rib. He turned his head to the side and saw his knife laying just an arm's length away. He reached for it, crying out in pain as he did so. His fingertips barely brushed the hilt.

"C'mon…" he said to himself through gritted teeth. It was right there, almost in his grasp.

Crunch!

He yelled in pain as a heavy boot came down on his hand, stopping him in his attempt to get hold of his weapon.

"What were you planning on doing once you got hold of that?" Mick looked up at his attacker, who was smirking at him. He knelt down, the heel of his boot pressed firmly onto the sniper's hand. Mick grunted. He wasn't about to give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him in pain.

"Piss off ya wanker!" Mick said, teeth gritted in stubborn defiance. The man chuckled, pulling out a gun from the back of his pants. This whole time he could have shot him? He lazily pointed the gun at Mick's head.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he began, "you're gonna tell me how many of y'all there are. We got your medic, that crazy bastard. I'd say he's bleeding like a stuck pig right about now."

"Piss. Off."

The man chuckled and grabbed the sniper's collar, pulling him close. Mick yelled in pain, feeling broken bones grinding together at the sudden movement. He grabbed the man's wrist, coughing painfully.

"You're dyin', buddy. I ain't even gotta touch ya to make you scream. But, I can give you a quick death. End your suffering," he took a moment to let his words sink in, "With the way you're wheezing, I'd say your lungs are filling up with blood. No telling what other internal damage that fall did to you." He looked Mick over, seeing the overwhelming look of pain in his eyes. He'd almost feel bad for him if he hadn't blown his best friend's head off.

Mick took a wheezy breath, grimacing as he did so. This bastard was right, but he wasn't about to betray his teammates to this worthless scum.

"Did you not hear me the first two times? Piss off you bloody bogan!"

He cried out as the man hit him in the head with the butt of his gun, letting him fall back. Spots danced before his eyes and everything spun. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt his consciousness slipping. He just wanted to shut his eyes, just for a moment-

"Stay with me buddy, I ain't finished with you yet."

Mick coughed, specks of blood dotting his lips as he did so. He shakily wiped it away, looking at the man darkly.

"If you think I'm gonna tell ya a bloody thing then we're gonna be here for a long time, mate."

"Stubborn aren't ya, pal?"

"It's me best defining quality."

The man chuckled at that, standing up.

"Let's take a different approach then, hmm?" Mick watched him warily as he made his way around toward his legs, which he was just now aware of his blood soaked pants leg. Guess with all the other shit wrong with him, he hadn't even noticed the chunk of wood impaling his calf.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?"Mick said, trying to pull himself away from him, grimacing as he did so. The man grabbed hold of the sniper's injured leg forcing a gasp of pain from him. He chuckled before pressing his fingers into the wound. Mundy yelled, digging his fingers into the dirt, struggling to get away despite his injuries.

"Ready to talk yet?" The man said, dropping Mick's leg like a piece of meat.

"F-fuck you!" The sniper stammered, breathing heavily despite the pain it caused him to do so. The man stood upright once more and placed a firm kick to Mick's gut. Mick coughed, closing his eyes to try and block out the pain.

"Go to hell, wanker!" He said once he was able to catch his breath.

Suddenly a gun cocked. The man turned on his heels in time to see Dell pointing his shotgun directly at his chest.

"You son of a-" the man was cut short before he could finish his sentence as the engineer pulled the trigger, filling him with buckshot. The man fell back from the force of the blast, a hole punched in his chest, blood spraying on the wall behind him.

"Shit, Sniper!" Dell exclaimed, rushing to Mick's side.

"Cheers, Truckie…" Mick said exhaustedly.

"I'll call Medic-"

"They got 'em."

"What? Where?"

"I dunno, mate, the bloke said somethin' 'bout it a moment ago." the sniper grimaced.

"Damn it all to hell," Dell said, pulling out his radio, "Heavy, Doc might be hurt. I need you to find him."

"Doctor hurt? Heavy will crush little baby men who hurt friend!" Mikhail's broken English came over the radio.

"Hurry and find him, Heavy."

Ludwig cried out as he was shocked yet again. He panted breathlessly, sweat and blood running down his face. He ached all over.

"You get anything out of that bastardo yet?" Said the twin as he walked into the barn.

"Not yet. He's proving more resilient than I thought." Responded Fritz's torturer. The medic chuckled breathlessly despite all that was going on.

"What the hell are you laughing about, gringo?"

"You better pray I don't get out of these bindings." Fritz said, looking up at the Hispanic man darkly.

"Oh really? What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to make you look like your brother." Despite the immense pain he was in, Ludwig smirked tauntingly. The brother clenched his fists and punched the medic across the jaw, snapping his head to the side.

"Hijo de puta! He didn't need to die like that!"

"You're right, I should have tortured him." Ludwig spit blood at him and chuckled.

The brother angrily grabbed hold of Fritz's neck, applying pressure. The medic gasped, struggling in the man's grasp.

"Don't kill him, now." Said the other man, but he made no move to stop the other. He smiled to himself as he watched the medic struggle, his heels digging into the dirt as he kicked, his attempt to grab his attacker's wrist, only causing himself more pain as he pulled against the barbed wire. Soon his struggle lessened, growing weaker from lack of oxygen. But he smiled even though he was on death's doorstep.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" The brother demanded.

"Behind… you…"

The brother froze as he heard the whirring of a minigun. He slowly looked over his shoulder to see the big, burly Russian standing in the doorway of the barn.

"Let go of doctor." Heavy demanded. The man let go and put his hands up, turning to face him. Ludwig coughed and gasped for air. Mikhail's eyes landed on the barbed wire around his friend's arms and glared at the two men.

"You hurt friend. You will pay with your lives." And with that the minigun came to life, hitting the blonde man, the bullets ripping through his body. Not wanting to risk hitting Fritz, Heavy laid Sasha on the ground and approached the other man. The brother stumbled back from him, looking up at the giant of a man.

"Wait, wait," he begged as Mikhail grabbed him by the neck, lifting him off his feet. The man struggled, kicking the heavy in the torso.

"Little man baby hurt friend. I will kill you now."

Crunch!

As if he were made of paper, Mikhail crushed the man's neck. His body went limp and he was dropped to the ground. Heavy hurried to his friend, and as gently as he could began to remove the barbed wire from his forearms. Fritz cried out in pain and Mikhail winced, feeling sorry for the medic. Once finished he carefully helped Ludwig to his feet.

"Dankeschön, mein Freund…" the medic said weakly, leaning on the bigger man.

"I will carry doctor."

"Nein, I still have my pride intact. It's not as bad as it looks." He lied. Heavy sighed and nodded.

"Sniper is hurt. He fell from tower."

"Take me to him."