A/N: PLEASE READ THIS! Word of caution, this chapter will contain some things that may be considered torture, so please be careful while you read! It may or may not trigger fears or emotions, so this is your warning. If you don't want to read that, go past the little star thingy (*) and start at the end of the other (*) those are called asrto-holo-gliph-something-something right? Or just don't read the chapter at all. Lol. Good reading!

Day? Time?

Maverick groaned, his eyes squeezed tight and moving his neck away from the painfully bright light shining in hie face. His head was killing him, his thigh was throbbing with his heartbeat. Where was he? Where was Rooster?

Maverick opened his eyes slowly, willing them to adjust to the white light. He wasn't sitting anymore. He was strapped to a cold, hard metal table. He couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't anything but never-ending pain. His eyes slowly adjusted, and he looked around the otherwise dim room, which smelled very clean and sanitary.

He realized he was in a hospital type of room. There were white cabinets along the wall, with a sink for washing things. He could see medication bottles and the cyan-like colored gloves. Blinking slowly, Maverick turned his head to the other side. He saw a heart monitor and noticed that he was attached to several wires and an IV.

Gosh diddly darn, where on the wide, beautiful, goodness-gracious green earth was he? Maverick didn't know if he was with the good guys, he didn't know if he was with the bad guys.

At least he still had his flight suit on. He could still feel some things in his pockets; thankfully they, whoever they were, hadn't thought to take anything out. Maybe he could reach for his radio in his other pocket? Did he even still have his radio? Goodness, he hoped so.

At that moment, screams suddenly erupted though the halls of the dark place. Maverick's heartrate shot up instantly as he realized he recognized those screams. Those were Rooster's screams. He had to get out of here. He had to protect Baby Goose. He's promised to keep him safe.

Maverick ignored the pain as he jerked at the straps holding him down. His body screamed at him to stop. He ignored it. He had to get to Rooster. What were they doing to him? Maverick felt a crack in his wrist and pain shot up his forearm. Great. He'd probably broken that. He kept on struggling. If the military taught him anything, it was to never give up trying. So, he listened, and kept thrashing about.

Finally, he felt the straps loosen, and one last tug sent him jerking up. Maverick quickly undid the straps at his legs and slid off the metal table. The sudden rush of standing when he hadn't had water in a good 5 hours sent the world swirling around him. Maverick willed the dizziness to stop and stumbled for the door.

The screamed stopped abruptly, and Maverick's heart plummeted to his stomach. 'No, not Rooster. Not him too. I can't lose anyone else!"

Day: 3 Time: 0206

On the carrier:

Cyclone stood with his hands behind his back, alert, steady. This was their sixth SAR mission flown in the past three days. Two missions a day; two pilots a mission; six hours each. Right now, Hangman and another fighter pilot by the name of Thorn were flying. Cyclone and everyone in communications listened intently to the conversations held in the sky.

"Yellow one to yellow two," Hangman's voice said, "Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear." Thorn answered in his deep, raspy voice.

"Do you see anything?"

"No sir, nothing."

Hangman sighed heavily and continued looking around. Three stinking days the Daggers had gone without a leader. Three stinking days they spent looking for any sign of their friend's lives. And what did they come up with? Nothing. Nothing at all. He was getting frustrated. He had to admit to himself that he missed his roommate. Even if they would get into agreements quite a lot, he missed him. Rooster was like the brother he'd always wanted. Maverick was like the father he always wanted; he looked up to him. And now they were gone. He had to keep looking.

That's when he heard it. Some static sounding noises coming from his radio. He flew a little onward, and the static faded to silence. Hangman's face drew into a frown, and he looked quickly back at his fuel gauge. Enough to fly a few more rounds. He turned the aircraft around, and back to the static.

It was a bunch of voices speaking in a different language.

Hangman quickly pressed his communication button down and didn't say anything. He listened to the voices for a few more minutes, but then they stopped. Hangman let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yellow one to Head." He said, "Did you get that?"

"Yes. It's being translated right now. Recommend yellow one return. Fuel is low." A feminine voice answered him.

"Understood." Hangman's heart was pounding in his chest. It was the first thing they'd heard on this island. It was their first clue to finding Maverick and Rooster. They were back on the trail. Hangman turned his plane, followed closely by Throne. He sent a quick prayer to anyone who would listen to keep them safe. Gosh, he hoped they were safe. How very wrong he was.