Sorry for the late update - life's getting in the way.
Hope you'll enjoy the read.
Steve's first instinct was to search the bodies of Makoni's lifeless henchmen. With the complete darkness encompassing him, and his almost completely numb hands tightly bound behind his back, it proved to be quite a challenge.
His hands fumbled in the darkness, desperately searching for a lifeline. Time seemed to slow as he meticulously explored every pocket, every inch of the fabric, every seam of their clothes, hoping for any weapon, a tool. Anything, really, that could sever the restraints and help him to escape this metal prison.
His fingers traced the contours of their bodies, encountering sticky blood. The coppery scent filled the heavy air, and he felt a shudder run down his spine as his touch brushed against the lifeless skin, a chilling reminder of the recent violence. He kept on searching, trying not to dwell on that.
But minutes later, despite his desperate search, Steve's hands came up empty. The men had nothing on them. No weapons, no tools, no means of escape. Makoni must've disarmed them while Steve was out cold.
There was no play in the heavy-duty door either. No way of opening it from the inside without any aid.
He was out of options. But he knew that even the smallest action could make a difference in the face of adversity.
"Hey!" he yelled, willing to try anything at this point. "Hey! In here!"
He listened intently, his senses heightened, hoping to hear a response, a sign that his call reached someone. Anyone.
"Anyone out there?"
Silence.
"Come on!" He kicked at the wall, desperation seeping into his bones.
There was nothing. No voices. No sound of footsteps. In fact, a complete silence. He called out again. And again. And he kept trying, but it was futile.
After what felt like an hour, the cruel reality sank in. He wasn't going anywhere.
With a defeated sigh, he slumped to the floor and rested his cramping back against the wall, feeling the unforgiving hardness pressing against his battered body. The knots of worry tightened his stomach, a sensation that mirrored the tension in his aching muscles.
The weight of his own predicament was magnified by the uncertainty surrounding his friends. Were they safe? Were they injured? Or worse, were they gone? His heart ached with the mere thought, but he couldn't afford to think that way. He had to hope they were alive. Probably looking for him, too, knowing he'd never go AWOL in the circumstances like this.
He also thought about the people who had died in the explosion. For a moment, he even considered being responsible for their demise. Then he remembered that was probably what Makoni wanted him to think. No. The man was a heartless monster. He had caused more than enough suffering already, and would do much more if Steve hadn't arrested him years ago.
Yet, the concerned thoughts pressed upon him, further intensifying the throbbing pain in his head. With each beat of his heart, his head pounded relentlessly, the ache reverberating through his skull. The concussion from the brutal kick was making its presence known, clouding his thoughts and impairing his ability to focus. A sudden wave of nausea washed over him mere minutes later, causing him to retch and empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor.
As the minutes stretched into hours, time seemed to taunt him. The suffocating stillness of the container enveloped him, amplifying the sense of confinement. He could do nothing but wait, his thoughts consumed by a mixture of anxious anticipation and a desperate desire for a plan of action. The silence was only broken by the sound of his own breathing, the raspy inhales and exhales echoing in the confined space.
With each passing moment, his frustration grew. He pushed it in the back of his mind, knowing he had to stay in control of his emotions if he wanted to make it out alive. Joe hadn't taught him to succumb to despair every time things got tough. He'd taught him to stay focused, to draw on his training and his instincts. To steel himself and wait for an opportunity to arise. To believe that sooner or later, a path to freedom would reveal itself.
Steve just hoped it would happen sooner, rather than later.
He knew time was not on his side.
Whatever Makoni's evil plan was, Steve was certain that the consequences would be dire and cost a lot of lives. He had to be stopped before he could cause any more damage.
But Makoni's plans weren't his only problem now. He had more pressing issues at hand.
It was mid-August. The hottest month of the year. And he was trapped in a metal container exposed to the scorching Hawaiian sun. The temperature inside rose with each passing minute, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, trickling down his bruised face.
He thought back to a brief moment the container door had been open after regaining his consciousness a few hours earlier. He had caught a glimpse of the morning sky. There hadn't been a single cloud obstructing it. Which could only mean one thing.
The container would soon become an inferno.
Danny walked through the doors of the headquarters, exhaustion etched across his face and body weighed down by the night's events. His head throbbed incessantly, and every breath he took sent a jolt of pain through his ribcage. But he paid it no attention.
The brightly lit room buzzed with urgency as Lou, Tani, and Jerry, all huddled together by the smart table, talked, trying to piece together the puzzle of the recent bombing.
Danny's heart ached as he thought about the chaos and carnage left in its wake. The pain it had caused. The innocent people who didn't make it. The injured who still fought for their lives.
Adam and Junior would be okay. But the thought of how close a call it was made Danny sick. It made his blood boil. But as much as he wanted to find those responsible, he couldn't focus on anything else but the fact that his best friend was missing and more than likely in great danger. Or worse. Danny's mind was racing with the possibilities of what could have happened to Steve and none of them were good.
As he approached the rest of the team, their weary faces mirrored his own anguish. They exchanged glances filled with unspoken questions, the weight of the situation pressing upon them.
He'd filled them in the moment he found Steve's car, and kept them updated ever since. They kept him updated on their injured colleagues' condition and the case, too. He knew that while he'd been trying to find Steve, they worked all night in cooperation with HPD, gathering witness statements, reviewing surveillance footage, and analyzing every piece of evidence they could find.
"You don't look very good," Jerry said.
Danny disregarded his concern. "I'll be fine."
"Did you hear back from the crime lab?" Tani asked.
Danny nodded, trying not to let despair creep into his voice as he spoke. "I just spoke with them," he said. "Steve's phone is too damaged to recover anything and they didn't find anything useful in the car, either."
A heavy silence enveloped the room, each of his friends absorbing the disappointing update, knowing that words alone couldn't bring comfort.
"Please tell me you have something," he pleaded as he closed the space between them.
His words hung in the air, the tension thickening for a few seconds.
"Actually, I think we do," Lou began, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I've been checking the surveillance footage from Hilton Hawaiian for hours. And then I noticed this guy leaving the restaurant just five minutes before the explosion."
Lou displayed a series of images on the screen, capturing a man from different angles. However, his face remained hidden beneath sunglasses and a dark hooded sweatshirt with rolled-up sleeves.
Danny was about to ask how was this supposed to help, but it was as if Lou was reading his mind.
Lou zoomed in on the man's arm. "Take a look," he said, pointing to a scar in the shape of an arrow etched across the man's forearm. "Looks familiar?"
Danny's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the image. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. "Makoni," he whispered, his voice trembling.
"One of his men for sure," Lou confirmed. "I don't think it's a coincidence."
Danny shook his head. "No, it can't," he said. "Neither is the fact that Steve went missing tonight."
"I don't believe in coincidences," Jerry chimed in.
Lou arched an eyebrow. "Really? That's what you don't believe in?"
Jerry shrugged it off.
"Can anybody explain what's going on?" Tani asked, her face scrunched in a confused frown. "What are we looking at here? Who the hell is this Makoni?"
Jerry pointed at the scar on the screen. "It's the arrow of Sagittarius," he said. "It's a brand Roko Makoni used to mark his army of kidnapped child soldiers back in his days."
Tani's face went pale. "What now?"
"Makoni is a Congolese warlord who Steve had pissed off a few years ago," Danny explained. "The long story short, we arrested him a few years ago, after he'd murdered a journalist trying to uncover his crimes and one of his soldiers who managed to escape and flee to America with his younger brother."
"So, us being at the restaurant at the time of the explosion wasn't a coincidence either, was it?" Tani asked. "You think Five 0 was the target?"
Lou nodded. "I'm afraid so. That guy hates our guts."
"Especially Steve," Jerry added.
"Yeah," Lou agreed. "He was milliseconds away from shooting McGarrett's brain out when Kono got him."
Tani nodded with a concerned frown. "That paints a picture."
"Isn't he in prison?" Danny asked, still trying to process the information. He didn't want to think back to that day. The memory of Steve on his knees with a gun pointed at his head sent shivers down his spine.
"He was, until two weeks ago," Lou said. "Somehow, he managed to escape."
Danny's mind raced, connecting the dots. Makoni had four years to plan his revenge. If he risked returning to US soil with all the heat on him, he was far from done. Was the explosion at the busy restaurant just the beginning? A message? A warning?
"We need to find Steve," Danny said, his voice wavering against his will. "If Makoni has him–" He didn't even want to consider the possibilities.
Lou leaned forward and squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "We'll find him, all right?" he said.
Unless it was too late. "What if he's–?"
"Don't even think that way." Lou sounded definitely more certain than Danny felt. "I'm sure he's fine and holding his own. And he needs us to stay focused right now."
Danny sucked in a deep, calming breath. He knew all too well that Makoni wanted Steve dead. And his best friend had been missing all night. But Lou was right. Right now, they couldn't afford to entertain the possibility of Steve being dead.
"You're right," he said after a moment.
"So, what's the plan?" Jerry asked, eyeing Danny.
"If we are right, finding Makoni would be our best bet. Lou, reach out to Interpol. He had once been the most wanted man in the world. I'm sure they know he's roaming free. See if you can get any information."
"On it," Lou said.
He turned to Tani. "Tani, keep scouring the CCTV footage. Steve's car didn't drive itself off the cliff. Maybe the cameras caught something."
A nod from his younger collage.
"Jerry," Danny said. "Find out if the crime lab already determined the composition of the bomb. If we manage to trace its origin, it might lead us to Makoni."
"Sure," Jerry said.
"And I'll–"
"Detective Williams?" A female voice cut him off.
Startled, they all turned to its source–a middle-aged woman with an air of unwavering confidence, dressed in an impeccably tailored navy blue suit that exuded sophistication and authority. Her piercing eyes held keen intelligence, and her sleek, shoulder-length hair framed a face that seemed to have witnessed its fair share of challenges. Standing beside her was a tall, distinguished man with a commanding presence dressed in a charcoal gray suit.
A young receptionist hurriedly ran in after them, panting for breath. "I'm so sorry, they wouldn't leave. I tried to tell them they couldn't go here."
"It's all right," Danny said, his eyes never leaving the unfamiliar duo.
The receptionist nodded and quickly left the room.
Danny took a cautious step closer to the newcomers. "Who are you?" he asked. His voice was firm, his instincts on high alert.
The woman's lips curved into a polite smile, but her eyes remained guarded. "We're here on a matter of national security," she said, her tone measured and composed. "I believe we need to talk."
*to be continued*
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