"What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you" HIM- 'Wicked Game'
Lila Archer drank in the scene before her. She finally had him. Her green eyes took in the few loose brown curls that escaped the blindfold, dangling over the silken scarf, his nose slightly protruding from under the blindfold. The silver duct tape that stretched over his luscious lips, keeping him silent. The dark stubble adorning his jaw. His hair hung loosely over the collar of his shirt underneath the scarf. The dark purple bruising stretching from his chiselled jaw and disappearing under his collar. The way his black shirt stretched over the curves of his shoulders with his wrists cuffed tightly to the chair. The way his knees were parted, his ankles chained firmly to the chair legs. The way his trouser legs had lifted slightly, revealing his colourful, mismatched socks. His chest gently rose and fell, his head bowed as he sat in a drug-induced slumber. She had waited for far too long for this. Lila took out her cell phone and started recording. She had to let his team know that he was safe.
Spencer recoiled at the sight of the men gaining on him. He himself was a tall man, but these were much bigger. One of the men grinned wildly in front of Spencer whilst the other two were behind him.
"It's party time," said the man in front of Spencer. Spencer's arms were wrenched behind his back and tied tightly with a ripped up towel.
"Aah! Help! Help!" called out Spencer, his heart drumming a hole in his ribs. A roll of socks was stuffed into his open maw, stifling his cries. A handmade shiv was pressed into his cheekbone next to his wide, terrified eye.
"So you're too good to be with us? We offer you friendship and what do you do? Spit in our faces. Thinks he can survive in here without our help."
Spencer sat on the side of his cot, his hands clasped between his parted knees. His cell door slid open to reveal two men cracking their knuckles. He came to his feet, his throat suddenly devoid of moisture. The smaller man was the first to address him.
"What's up, snitch? That your girlfriend come to see you?"
"She's my friend, " answered Spencer as he tried to steady his voice.
"You never got any? What's wrong with you, man?!" Spencer was roughly slammed into the side of his cell. His spine collided with the cold bricks. A towel was pressed tightly over his mouth as a fist was thrown into his stomach. He grunted, curling in on himself. The towel briefly came free.
"Help!" Spencer was swung around and thrown onto his cot. The bigger man straddled his hips, pinning his wrists to his sides with his knees and forced the towel over his mouth again.
"Snuff him!" Punch after punch rained down on him, connecting with every part of his face.
Spencer jerked as he returned to the realm of consciousness. Sweat beaded his forehead and trickled underneath the blindfold. His chest heaved for breath. As he tried to return to the present tense, he was reminded of his situation as the handcuffs sliced deeper into his already mangled wrists. His shoulders ached. From one nightmare to another... Lila was behind him; he could feel her breathing on the back of his neck. She ran her hands up and down his stiffened biceps. Spencer felt his anger boiling in his chest. He had to try and get away, one way or another. Spencer threw his head back and felt it collide with hers. Pain spread like wildfire throughout his skull. He let out a muffled groan of pain.
"You bastard!" screamed Lila. Spencer panted as his head spun. He despised not being able to see what his captor was doing but he was overwhelmed with a sense of unease. He felt something hard collide with his left knee. His kneecap shifted and shattered. Spencer let out a scream of agony. He was unable to prevent the involuntary tears of pain that leaked out of the corners of his eyes. The fire spread throughout his thigh and down his leg. A wooden bat... His breaths came thick and fast. The chair he was seated on was given a hard shove, sending it toppling backwards. Spencer felt his left wrist snap under his weight. Bile bubbled in the back of his throat. He couldn't stop the sob that left his throat. The bat connected with his temple, instantly rendering him unconscious. Blood trickled over his skin, merging with his hair from a Iarge laceration above his right eyebrow.
The team were drowning in coffee and manila folders, desperately searching for a clue as to who had their friend and colleague. Penelope typed frantically on her laptop, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. Emily let out a deflated sigh and rubbed her aching forehead with the tips of her fingers.
"Well, we can rule out Lindsey Vaughn and Cat Adams. Cat'll still be licking her wounds," answered David who chuckled at his own joke. Emily glared at him. Luke flicked open a folder.
"What about Claire Dunbar?" asked Luke. JJ furrowed her brow.
"I think this goes back further. What was the name of that actress? The one that was being stalked by her PA? Elle was still on the team then."
"Lila Archer," responded Penelope. An image flashed up on the main monitor on the wall. A smiling woman with blonde hair and green eyes stared back at them, "She kissed him in the swimming pool after she pulled him in. Apparently her acting career dried up in L.A. so she moved to DC a year ago and got a job... Oh no..."
"What is it, Garcia?" asked David, his eyebrow raised in concern.
"She's a cleaner right here in Quantico. She could have been listening to our conversations. We don't know how much she knows about what Spence has been through." A pinging sound cut through the air. Penelope glanced at her screen to find an unread email. Curiosity crept in and she clicked on it. A video opened up in a new window.
The first thing they saw was a pair hands limply hanging from a set of handcuffs that pinched tightly into bruised and bloodied skin. The palms of the hands were coated in dried blood. The left middle finger was heavily bruised. The handcuffs were hooked around a slat in the backrest of a wooden chair. Creased sleeves hung loosely over the cuffs. The camera panned up the slender arms, then back down again. It moved around to the front. Ankles were shackled to the front legs of the chair with another two sets of handcuffs. The trouser legs had lifted slightly revealing mismatched socks- one was striped and the other was spotted. The knees were parted. The team immediately recognised the figure as their brother. The camera continued up the figure, moving slowly as if to relish the sight. Spencer's black button up shirt had been fastened all the way to the collar. Deep black and purple bruising stretched from the jaw and disappeared under the collar. Several needle marks were noted in the side of his neck. There were also the angry red welts from a human bite mark. Spencer was unconscious, his breaths slow and shallow. A large strip of silver duct tape was firmly secured over his mouth, stretching from ear to ear. A purple silky scarf was tied tightly over his eyes, blinding him from the outside world. Penelope's mouth bobbed, tears gathering on her lower lashes. JJ was shaking, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. Emily pressed her fist to her mouth.
"We need to find this bitch, and fast," pressed out Tara, desperately tried to keep a neutral expression.