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Lost - Part One
Sep. 4th, 2011 07:27 pmA plan for revenge on Hannibal has dire implications for Face. Warning for explicit non-con.
___________________________________________
Hannibal knew the exact second that Face's voice disappeared from the comms link that the kid was in trouble. They were tailing their mark through the streets of Los Angeles, taking turns to dip in and out of the hunt, making sure it was discrete but efficient, keeping in contact with each other and Murdock and BA back in the van the whole time.
It had been going well.
“Okay, boss, I got him now, I'll pick him up outside that 7-Eleven.”
“Roger that, kid, I'm on the other side of the road, I'll hang back for ten.”
There was silence in the van, Murdock marking their route on a street map, while BA constantly adjusted dials and knobs to keep the comms links working at 100%.
“Right,” there was a snap of urgency to Face's voice this time, “he's turned into an alley, down the side of the Wandering Salesman Saloon, you see it boss?”
Hannibal raised himself up on his toes to see above the throngs of people. “Yeah, I'm about one hundred yards back, other side of the road, be right behind you in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay, I'm going in after him.”
“Be safe.” Hannibal always said this to his boys, always, had done since long before he'd even met these three, said it from the first day he was a Captain and was leading his men into battle. But somehow, now, ever since he and Face had finally succumbed to the 'something else' that had flitted around the edges of their relationship, somehow now, he meant it more than ever. He realised that he loved Face, probably already had, still wasn't sure what the kid felt for him, but suspected he may well love him back; the thought of something happening now, when they were right on the edge of finding something good in this pile of shit that was their current situation, was terrifying.
As it turned out, those were the last words that Hannibal said to him, well the last words that Face definitely heard anyway, as his next sentence went without a response.
“Okay, Face,” Hannibal had found himself whispering, even though he knew he didn't need to, “I'm at the top of the alley, where are you?”
Silence.
“Face, report. Where are you, kid?”
Even though it had been seconds, just a few seconds since that missed response, Hannibal's heart was already beating out a terrified rhythm in his chest, even though his voice remained steady “BA?”
“Nothin' here, man,” the worry was clear in the big guy's voice as well. “Tracker says he's still in the alley, 'bout ten metres in front of you, to the left.”
Hannibal craned forward, but the alley was empty. Ten metres to his left was a dumpster, and, drawing his gun, Hannibal crept on. He wondered if there had been enough time to inflict some damage on his lieutenant and drop him in that bin, wondered if their mark would be smart enough to have a suppressor on his gun, or maybe he just went for the baseball bat around the head routine, but Hannibal knew that none of that made sense, if anything like that had happened to Face, he'd have heard something over the comm. There had been nothing, not a single out of place sound. Now he was there, right at the dumpster and he paused, holding his breath and readying his gun as he slowly, slowly, raised the lid and peered in – nothing. Just refuse sacks, cardboard boxes, nothing else. He let out a long sigh and put the lid back in place, turning to look behind, see what was jammed up next to the wall, but there was nothing. He ground his teeth in frustration.
“Nothing,” he reported to the others in the van, “you sure that tracker's right BA?”
“Absolutely, boss. You're standing righ' on top of it.”
BA's words made Hannibal look down and his heart clenched in fear as he saw the comms device, with its built in tracker, on the ground nestled up against the wheel of the dumpster. With shaking fingers he bent down and picked it up, the fingers of his empty hand forming a tight fist. “I've got it,” he reported back, voice tense, “but there's no sign of Face. We have to assume they got the drop on him and have taken him with them. Get the van back round here, guys; we need to start a search and retrieval operation.”
______________
For two hours Murdock and BA combed the alley and surrounding area for clues, but nothing came up. Hannibal meanwhile, backtracked their steps of that morning, right back to the hair salon where they originally picked up their mark first thing, but again nothing. They already knew that the guy used the hair salon under a false name, knew there would be no trail to follow from there, so, dejectedly called BA and asked to be picked up.
An hour after that they were back at the warehouse they used as their base of operations, sitting around the huge oak table that Face had got from somewhere, looking at each other and waiting for Hannibal to come up with a plan
When he did, however, they didn't like it. Not one little bit.
There was a silence, a definitely stunned silence, before Murdock piped up, “That's it??? We just carry on and do nothing to get Face back?”
Hannibal had expected this, so his answer, when it came was calm and carefully thought out. “Captain, what else can we do? The brief from our client was to find out who these guys were, and why all of his customers were suddenly so scared of them. The only fact he knew about them was that the guy with the beard had it trimmed at that O'Reilly's place every few days. So that's why we hung around outside for all this time, that's why we had a chance to make our move today when he finally showed up. But now he's disappeared again, and with Face too it seems, so what else have we got other than to continue the way we were and see what else we can find out? We find them, we find Face.”
“But...” Murdock looked to BA for backup, but the big guy just shook his head.
“Boss is right, fool, we aint got nothin' else to work on.”
Murdock looked about as dejected as the others felt.
“Don't despair, Captain,” Hannibal said, patting his arm in a futile gesture of comfort. “You know if anyone can get himself out of a tight spot it's Face, now don't you?”
______________
By the time two whole days had gone by without a word or a single sight of Face, however, Hannibal was starting to go crazy with despair. He had always hoped his words to Murdock would be true, that Face would turn up in a taxi one day, looking tired and a little sheepish and Hannibal would take him back to the house they were currently staying in and fuck his brains out until the panic receded. But he didn't show. And the guy with the beard didn't turn up at O'Reilly's again, and they didn't get one single further lead.
BA was in a constant temper, Murdock couldn't sit still, pacing, shredding tissues, tapping his foot, bouncing a ball, constant edginess, and Hannibal? Well, he was living in a state of constant terror. He was no fool, knew if those guys had taken Face instead of just killing him, then they wanted something from him. Information was the most likely, and Hannibal knew damn well that Face wouldn't give them any, not at first, was about as stubborn as he was well trained. But, and this was the thing, everyone had their breaking point, even Face, and the longer these guys had him, the closer he would be getting to it – and the more pain he would be in. Hannibal couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't think of anything other than Face being hurt, and all the while, believing with the unshakable faith he always had in Hannibal, that they would be breaking the door down any second to bust him out. Hannibal knew damn well that the kid would handle the pain a lot better than he would handle the crushing disappointment when no one came for him.
____________
It was getting dark on the second day and Hannibal was going over and over the notes they had from their client yet again. How these guys had just popped up, taken all his customers, and the only thing that he'd been able to get from them was that one of them liked his beard trimming at O'Reilly's. Hannibal had tried to get back in touch with the client, see if there was anything else at all he could tell them, but he wasn't answering his phone, wasn't in when they called; Hannibal was getting a very, very bad feeling about this whole thing.
BA was at the other end of the room, laptop on his knee, and Hannibal heard the exact second that he sucked in a breath and his eyes were on him immediately. “What?”
Murdock appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, eyes full of hope and fear all at the same time and they both stared at BA as he frowned at the screen.
“Boss,” he sounded shocked, “you better come and have a look at this...”
In a second, Hannibal was on his feet and making his way to BA's shoulder, concern creasing his brow and Murdock hot on his heels.
“There,” BA gestured to the email sitting innocently in the middle of their unopened mail in the inbox, “should I open it?”
Hannibal's frown deepened; the subject line of the email read, 'Open this or Peck dies.'
There was a pause, just a moment, as Hannibal weighed everything up in his head before nodding at BA, “Open it.”
All three men leaned in, reading silently, none of them liking what they found.
'Greetings Smith,
I trust I have your full attention? Thought so.
I must admit to have been a little disappointed when it was Peck that stumbled into my little trap the other day. I was sure that you, being the heroic leader that you are, would have been to one to follow me into the alleyway, but, of course you would let Peck have his head on this matter, you always were far too indulgent with him, still are it seems.
Anyway, I have come to realise that this enforced change of plan is a far better way to progress, many, many more opportunities to make you squirm and cause you pain, which, after all, was always my aim. Perhaps, once I have finally finished Peck off, I will take the others, one by one, before I come for you. Do the job that the army has never managed and get rid of the A-Team once and for all.
The perfect revenge. And after all Smith, revenge is what this is all about, you finished my life, I will finish yours – permanently.
And don't worry about Peck; you will be seeing him very, very, soon.
Regards, an old friend.'
Hannibal finished reading and stood in silence, mind whirring, desperately trying to pin some facts together. Murdock's brow was furrowed as he looked back over the words and it was BA who eventually spoke, “Revenge? Hannibal, man, who is this guy?”
Shaking his head Hannibal looked distraught, “I don't know, BA, I really don't.”
“He said we'll see Facey, real soon,” Hannibal's heart sank at the hope he saw in his pilot’s eyes, “but it don't sound like he'll be lettin' him go, so...?” he trailed off and Hannibal felt sick to the stomach, wondering if they would wake up to find Face's body in the front yard, not that Hannibal would get a wink of sleep now, anyway.
“I don't know,” he repeated, feeling helpless and totally at a loss as to what to do.
___________
He was right when he thought that he wouldn't sleep much that night, in fact, none of them did. Hannibal stared out of the window at the darkened street, half expecting a car to drive down at any second and going over and over in his mind who on earth had sent that email. It wasn't that there weren't any likely culprits, but that was just it, there were far too many for him to narrow it down. They only thing that helped at all was that it was obviously someone who knew him and Face from way back, probably from their army days, but even that didn't help much.
Nothing happened throughout the whole night. BA had eventually fallen asleep just after six, then they had all eaten together, a sombre and melancholy meal at around nine, before Murdock and Hannibal eventually succumbed to their bodies and drifted off to sleep in the chairs they sat in.
It was just past eleven a.m when BA woke them. “Guys,” he hissed in their direction, “another email just dropped in.”
They were both up and at BA's side even before either of them were awake, and BA clicked on the 'open' tab as soon as they were all ready.
They read, once again, in silence.
'Morning Smith.
I trust you had an unpleasant night mulling over the fate of your favourite Lieutenant?
Well, let me put you out of your misery. Click on the link and you will be able to see him for yourself. Isn't modern technology just great?'
And underneath that short paragraph was a flashing button that said, 'Click me!'
BA hovered the mouse pointer over the button and waited, wanting Hannibal to make that decision for him, knowing that once they had clicked that link, once they had seen what was at the end of it, there was no turning back, no more kidding themselves that things might turn out differently.
“Do it.”
In Hannibal's voice he heard the same fear as he knew was in his own heart, so feeling Murdock's fingers digging tightly into his shoulder, he clicked the link and held his breath.
A new window opened, and almost the entire window was taken up by the feed from a webcam. BA clicked the maximise button and all three men leant in to see what they could in the small screen of the laptop.
Murdock sucked in a breath. The room was dark, the walls and doors invisible in the pools of inky blackness that surrounded them, but the centre of the room was lit up bright as day, illuminated by halogen lights, each one of them angled to the centre, none of their light allowed to spill out onto the walls beyond. Right in the centre of the room was a figure, naked except for a white pair of fitted trunks, now soiled and grubby, hands chained up above their head, not too high that the bare feet couldn't rest flat on the ground, body marked with blood and bruises.
Hannibal felt equal parts anger and despair wash over him as he took in the sight that suddenly filled the computer screen, and he couldn't help reaching out, fingers brushing that still figure, trying desperately hard to see if the chest was rising and falling at all, his own breathing strangely constricted. As he stared, the figure twitched, nothing too visible, almost as if it were dreaming about falling, but that one movement filled him with more hope than he had known in the past few days. Even though that beaten and chained figure in front of him had a hood tied roughly over its head, Hannibal knew without a shadow of doubt that it was Face, and seeing that one twitch of life, told him everything he needed to know – the kid was still there, still fighting, still waiting for his team to come and get him, and there was no way on this earth that Hannibal would ever let him down.
“Son of a...” BA shoved his chair roughly away from the table and stormed outside where Hannibal could just about hear things being thrown about. Murdock just stood and stared, eyes wide, taking everything in, while Hannibal's brain kicked into over drive, desperately, desperately searching for a way to reach Face.
Next
___________________________________________
Hannibal knew the exact second that Face's voice disappeared from the comms link that the kid was in trouble. They were tailing their mark through the streets of Los Angeles, taking turns to dip in and out of the hunt, making sure it was discrete but efficient, keeping in contact with each other and Murdock and BA back in the van the whole time.
It had been going well.
“Okay, boss, I got him now, I'll pick him up outside that 7-Eleven.”
“Roger that, kid, I'm on the other side of the road, I'll hang back for ten.”
There was silence in the van, Murdock marking their route on a street map, while BA constantly adjusted dials and knobs to keep the comms links working at 100%.
“Right,” there was a snap of urgency to Face's voice this time, “he's turned into an alley, down the side of the Wandering Salesman Saloon, you see it boss?”
Hannibal raised himself up on his toes to see above the throngs of people. “Yeah, I'm about one hundred yards back, other side of the road, be right behind you in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay, I'm going in after him.”
“Be safe.” Hannibal always said this to his boys, always, had done since long before he'd even met these three, said it from the first day he was a Captain and was leading his men into battle. But somehow, now, ever since he and Face had finally succumbed to the 'something else' that had flitted around the edges of their relationship, somehow now, he meant it more than ever. He realised that he loved Face, probably already had, still wasn't sure what the kid felt for him, but suspected he may well love him back; the thought of something happening now, when they were right on the edge of finding something good in this pile of shit that was their current situation, was terrifying.
As it turned out, those were the last words that Hannibal said to him, well the last words that Face definitely heard anyway, as his next sentence went without a response.
“Okay, Face,” Hannibal had found himself whispering, even though he knew he didn't need to, “I'm at the top of the alley, where are you?”
Silence.
“Face, report. Where are you, kid?”
Even though it had been seconds, just a few seconds since that missed response, Hannibal's heart was already beating out a terrified rhythm in his chest, even though his voice remained steady “BA?”
“Nothin' here, man,” the worry was clear in the big guy's voice as well. “Tracker says he's still in the alley, 'bout ten metres in front of you, to the left.”
Hannibal craned forward, but the alley was empty. Ten metres to his left was a dumpster, and, drawing his gun, Hannibal crept on. He wondered if there had been enough time to inflict some damage on his lieutenant and drop him in that bin, wondered if their mark would be smart enough to have a suppressor on his gun, or maybe he just went for the baseball bat around the head routine, but Hannibal knew that none of that made sense, if anything like that had happened to Face, he'd have heard something over the comm. There had been nothing, not a single out of place sound. Now he was there, right at the dumpster and he paused, holding his breath and readying his gun as he slowly, slowly, raised the lid and peered in – nothing. Just refuse sacks, cardboard boxes, nothing else. He let out a long sigh and put the lid back in place, turning to look behind, see what was jammed up next to the wall, but there was nothing. He ground his teeth in frustration.
“Nothing,” he reported to the others in the van, “you sure that tracker's right BA?”
“Absolutely, boss. You're standing righ' on top of it.”
BA's words made Hannibal look down and his heart clenched in fear as he saw the comms device, with its built in tracker, on the ground nestled up against the wheel of the dumpster. With shaking fingers he bent down and picked it up, the fingers of his empty hand forming a tight fist. “I've got it,” he reported back, voice tense, “but there's no sign of Face. We have to assume they got the drop on him and have taken him with them. Get the van back round here, guys; we need to start a search and retrieval operation.”
______________
For two hours Murdock and BA combed the alley and surrounding area for clues, but nothing came up. Hannibal meanwhile, backtracked their steps of that morning, right back to the hair salon where they originally picked up their mark first thing, but again nothing. They already knew that the guy used the hair salon under a false name, knew there would be no trail to follow from there, so, dejectedly called BA and asked to be picked up.
An hour after that they were back at the warehouse they used as their base of operations, sitting around the huge oak table that Face had got from somewhere, looking at each other and waiting for Hannibal to come up with a plan
When he did, however, they didn't like it. Not one little bit.
There was a silence, a definitely stunned silence, before Murdock piped up, “That's it??? We just carry on and do nothing to get Face back?”
Hannibal had expected this, so his answer, when it came was calm and carefully thought out. “Captain, what else can we do? The brief from our client was to find out who these guys were, and why all of his customers were suddenly so scared of them. The only fact he knew about them was that the guy with the beard had it trimmed at that O'Reilly's place every few days. So that's why we hung around outside for all this time, that's why we had a chance to make our move today when he finally showed up. But now he's disappeared again, and with Face too it seems, so what else have we got other than to continue the way we were and see what else we can find out? We find them, we find Face.”
“But...” Murdock looked to BA for backup, but the big guy just shook his head.
“Boss is right, fool, we aint got nothin' else to work on.”
Murdock looked about as dejected as the others felt.
“Don't despair, Captain,” Hannibal said, patting his arm in a futile gesture of comfort. “You know if anyone can get himself out of a tight spot it's Face, now don't you?”
______________
By the time two whole days had gone by without a word or a single sight of Face, however, Hannibal was starting to go crazy with despair. He had always hoped his words to Murdock would be true, that Face would turn up in a taxi one day, looking tired and a little sheepish and Hannibal would take him back to the house they were currently staying in and fuck his brains out until the panic receded. But he didn't show. And the guy with the beard didn't turn up at O'Reilly's again, and they didn't get one single further lead.
BA was in a constant temper, Murdock couldn't sit still, pacing, shredding tissues, tapping his foot, bouncing a ball, constant edginess, and Hannibal? Well, he was living in a state of constant terror. He was no fool, knew if those guys had taken Face instead of just killing him, then they wanted something from him. Information was the most likely, and Hannibal knew damn well that Face wouldn't give them any, not at first, was about as stubborn as he was well trained. But, and this was the thing, everyone had their breaking point, even Face, and the longer these guys had him, the closer he would be getting to it – and the more pain he would be in. Hannibal couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't think of anything other than Face being hurt, and all the while, believing with the unshakable faith he always had in Hannibal, that they would be breaking the door down any second to bust him out. Hannibal knew damn well that the kid would handle the pain a lot better than he would handle the crushing disappointment when no one came for him.
____________
It was getting dark on the second day and Hannibal was going over and over the notes they had from their client yet again. How these guys had just popped up, taken all his customers, and the only thing that he'd been able to get from them was that one of them liked his beard trimming at O'Reilly's. Hannibal had tried to get back in touch with the client, see if there was anything else at all he could tell them, but he wasn't answering his phone, wasn't in when they called; Hannibal was getting a very, very bad feeling about this whole thing.
BA was at the other end of the room, laptop on his knee, and Hannibal heard the exact second that he sucked in a breath and his eyes were on him immediately. “What?”
Murdock appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, eyes full of hope and fear all at the same time and they both stared at BA as he frowned at the screen.
“Boss,” he sounded shocked, “you better come and have a look at this...”
In a second, Hannibal was on his feet and making his way to BA's shoulder, concern creasing his brow and Murdock hot on his heels.
“There,” BA gestured to the email sitting innocently in the middle of their unopened mail in the inbox, “should I open it?”
Hannibal's frown deepened; the subject line of the email read, 'Open this or Peck dies.'
There was a pause, just a moment, as Hannibal weighed everything up in his head before nodding at BA, “Open it.”
All three men leaned in, reading silently, none of them liking what they found.
'Greetings Smith,
I trust I have your full attention? Thought so.
I must admit to have been a little disappointed when it was Peck that stumbled into my little trap the other day. I was sure that you, being the heroic leader that you are, would have been to one to follow me into the alleyway, but, of course you would let Peck have his head on this matter, you always were far too indulgent with him, still are it seems.
Anyway, I have come to realise that this enforced change of plan is a far better way to progress, many, many more opportunities to make you squirm and cause you pain, which, after all, was always my aim. Perhaps, once I have finally finished Peck off, I will take the others, one by one, before I come for you. Do the job that the army has never managed and get rid of the A-Team once and for all.
The perfect revenge. And after all Smith, revenge is what this is all about, you finished my life, I will finish yours – permanently.
And don't worry about Peck; you will be seeing him very, very, soon.
Regards, an old friend.'
Hannibal finished reading and stood in silence, mind whirring, desperately trying to pin some facts together. Murdock's brow was furrowed as he looked back over the words and it was BA who eventually spoke, “Revenge? Hannibal, man, who is this guy?”
Shaking his head Hannibal looked distraught, “I don't know, BA, I really don't.”
“He said we'll see Facey, real soon,” Hannibal's heart sank at the hope he saw in his pilot’s eyes, “but it don't sound like he'll be lettin' him go, so...?” he trailed off and Hannibal felt sick to the stomach, wondering if they would wake up to find Face's body in the front yard, not that Hannibal would get a wink of sleep now, anyway.
“I don't know,” he repeated, feeling helpless and totally at a loss as to what to do.
___________
He was right when he thought that he wouldn't sleep much that night, in fact, none of them did. Hannibal stared out of the window at the darkened street, half expecting a car to drive down at any second and going over and over in his mind who on earth had sent that email. It wasn't that there weren't any likely culprits, but that was just it, there were far too many for him to narrow it down. They only thing that helped at all was that it was obviously someone who knew him and Face from way back, probably from their army days, but even that didn't help much.
Nothing happened throughout the whole night. BA had eventually fallen asleep just after six, then they had all eaten together, a sombre and melancholy meal at around nine, before Murdock and Hannibal eventually succumbed to their bodies and drifted off to sleep in the chairs they sat in.
It was just past eleven a.m when BA woke them. “Guys,” he hissed in their direction, “another email just dropped in.”
They were both up and at BA's side even before either of them were awake, and BA clicked on the 'open' tab as soon as they were all ready.
They read, once again, in silence.
'Morning Smith.
I trust you had an unpleasant night mulling over the fate of your favourite Lieutenant?
Well, let me put you out of your misery. Click on the link and you will be able to see him for yourself. Isn't modern technology just great?'
And underneath that short paragraph was a flashing button that said, 'Click me!'
BA hovered the mouse pointer over the button and waited, wanting Hannibal to make that decision for him, knowing that once they had clicked that link, once they had seen what was at the end of it, there was no turning back, no more kidding themselves that things might turn out differently.
“Do it.”
In Hannibal's voice he heard the same fear as he knew was in his own heart, so feeling Murdock's fingers digging tightly into his shoulder, he clicked the link and held his breath.
A new window opened, and almost the entire window was taken up by the feed from a webcam. BA clicked the maximise button and all three men leant in to see what they could in the small screen of the laptop.
Murdock sucked in a breath. The room was dark, the walls and doors invisible in the pools of inky blackness that surrounded them, but the centre of the room was lit up bright as day, illuminated by halogen lights, each one of them angled to the centre, none of their light allowed to spill out onto the walls beyond. Right in the centre of the room was a figure, naked except for a white pair of fitted trunks, now soiled and grubby, hands chained up above their head, not too high that the bare feet couldn't rest flat on the ground, body marked with blood and bruises.
Hannibal felt equal parts anger and despair wash over him as he took in the sight that suddenly filled the computer screen, and he couldn't help reaching out, fingers brushing that still figure, trying desperately hard to see if the chest was rising and falling at all, his own breathing strangely constricted. As he stared, the figure twitched, nothing too visible, almost as if it were dreaming about falling, but that one movement filled him with more hope than he had known in the past few days. Even though that beaten and chained figure in front of him had a hood tied roughly over its head, Hannibal knew without a shadow of doubt that it was Face, and seeing that one twitch of life, told him everything he needed to know – the kid was still there, still fighting, still waiting for his team to come and get him, and there was no way on this earth that Hannibal would ever let him down.
“Son of a...” BA shoved his chair roughly away from the table and stormed outside where Hannibal could just about hear things being thrown about. Murdock just stood and stared, eyes wide, taking everything in, while Hannibal's brain kicked into over drive, desperately, desperately searching for a way to reach Face.
Next
