Predator or Prey *DISCONTINUED*

by orphan_account

Summary:

Smoke had always feared that the day would come where Maxim would be lost to him, even if the russian was the more experienced between them. He just never thought it would happen so soon, not like this.

Right in front of him.

For all he knew, his team was dead, slaughtered by the men that assaulted their blacksite.

Nobody would come for him.

---------

Maxim had been so sure that he'd be able to protect James should the need arise. He was a predator, a man who preyed on his fellow species, someone who'd seen the darkside of the world and came through unscathed.

Now James was gone, taken for whatever unknown reason.

Would he even be able to find the younger man before it was too late? Before they broke the Brit's mind and body?

So begins the hunt.

Notes:

So, yeah... Only my second story, so please don't hate too much. Just constructive criticism please.

Also, WARNINGS. This story is going down a very dark path in my head, just so you guys know... So tags might be going up along the way, so please keep up with that. Last thing I want is someone triggered because they didn't read the tags.

Anyways... Enjoy, if you can.

ALSO: I switched Mute and Smoke's ages. Smoke is now 26, and Mute is 36.

Chapter 1

The attack had taken them completely by surprise. The collective team had been hiding out in an unused warehouse as they quietly tracked the actions of a local terrorist group, their deep cover preventing them from having much contact with the states, effectively upending any call for assistance. The only thing that could really save any of them was that Ash was in the middle of one such rare comm.

 

How the terrorists found out about them, Smoke didn’t know. All he remember of the first bit was an explosion rocking the ground beneath his feet, sending everyone scrambling.

 

Jack had been the first to get his gear, scanning the nearby walls in search of heartbeats, Monika’s hand on his shoulder as she watched his back for anyone coming up behind. The others had been quick to get geared up, finding defensive positions that would effectively aid in repelling the attacks.

 

That had been a while ago, hours it felt like, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes after the gunfire and explosions picked up that Smoke realized Kapkan wasn’t by his side anymore. The Russian usually wandered during operations to place his trademark traps in preparation for enemies lacking in caution, but that didn’t stop the young man from feeling sick about it.

 

So he’d gone out in search of the older, cautiously checking around every corner and doorframe as he’d been trained. Turning one corner had Smoke stopping dead in his tracks, fingers going numb as he caught sight of a familiar camo form pinned to the ground beneath a white-masked figure.

 

“Maxim.” Smoke cried, the assailant looking up from where his blade was at Kapkan’s throat, the russian’s gaze fierce and carrying an air of urgent warning to stop the younger man from doing anything foolish.

 

“Don’t move,” the terrorist ordered in a rasping sort of way, hand getting a better grip on the dark hair of the man beneath him, drawing a growl from the Russian who gave an rumbled insult. His gaze never left Smoke though, his heart sinking. Why’d it have to be the brit that would stumble upon them? The one person in the world Kapkan would gladly sacrifice himself for?

 

Smoke froze as ordered, holding his hands up slightly, shotgun pointed carefully upwards as his hidden gaze flickered back and forth between his ally and the enemy that now held all the cards. The gunfire in the background had died down, but Smoke was too focused on those before him to really care. He’d exhausted his signature bomb supply, but even if he’d had any left, Kapkan had no protection against the toxic fumes it created.

 

“Put the gun down.”

 

Lowering himself slowly to the floor with the intention of dropping his weapon had Kapkan twisting in his assailant’s grip and spitting something in his native tongue, causing Smoke to hesitate.

 

The masked man gave a yank, pulling Kapkan’s head upward to an uncomfortable degree, knife cutting deep enough into the fragile flesh to draw a thin stream of blood. “Drop it or I’ll kill him.”

 

Smoke dropped the gun almost immediately, taking a step back to give the masked man the assurance that he wouldn’t use it.

 

“Drop the vest. Mask too.”

 

Odd, but Smoke complied anyways, even as Kapkan gave him a venomous look. “Хищник, а не добыча!” He snapped, the man over top of him putting more pressure to the small of the russian’s back with his knee, making it more difficult for him to breath.

 

“Don’t do that!” Smoke pleaded, desperately wanting to rip the somewhat larger man off of his companion, but well aware of the consequences any aggression would derive, so he remained where he was, hands up and face twisting in fear and concern.

 

Kapkan tried to jerk his head free of the terrorist’s grip, having a hard time of doing so with the way he was pinned, his attempts only seeming to amuse his captor. His desperation to protect Smoke was overwhelming, causing the russian to overrule his usual tactical calm in an escape he knew was futile. 

 

"On your knees or I'll cut his throat." 

 

The threat was very real, Smoke's brows furrowing ever so slightly as he began to obey, igniting Kapkan's legendary anger. It was rare for the russian to lose his temper, but the times that he did were enough for the team to hope they'd never incite it again.

 

"Прекрати идиот! Бег!" 

 

What happened next happened so quickly that Smoke wasn't sure of what was going on before it was too late. Kapkan got one of his arms loose and began to twist free, the terrorist scrambling to keep his hold.

 

Brown eyes locked with blue, and Smoke could see the older man's gaze soften for the briefest of moments "я люблю тебя."

 

There was a flash of silver then Kapkan was face down in an ever-growing pool of crimson.

 

"Nooo!" Smoke screamed and started forwards just as a heavy boot connected with the side of his knee. A sickening crunch echoed his cry of pain, gloved hands reaching down to grasp at it as someone got him in a headlock. 

 

Smoke's mind was in a chaotic battle for control, the pain radiating up his leg demanding attention, but his fingers were too busy trying to get between his neck and the arm of whoever was behind him, choking as he struggled to inhale.

 

"Not so fun for you, is it?" A dark voice questioned as he writhed and kicked, "to choke and suffer like those that breath whatever you mix into those canisters." 

 

Pushed forwards Smoke caught himself on one arm, the other grasping at his neck and he coughed. His lungs burned and he felt the beginning of a headache coming on as another body was slumped down next to him. A sidelong glance was enough for the brit to identify the other survivor as Doc, the older male quickly looking him over from where he knelt. Funny that he wasn't worrying about himself.

 

"Which one's this one?"

 

"The medic I think."

 

"We don't need a medic."

 

"Then shoot him."

 

Smoke moved to get up again when one of their captors lifted his gun for the back of Doc's head, a swift kick to his injured knee enough to send him back down to the ground.

 

"Stand down."

 

The order came from behind, everyone present turning as best they could to identify the newcomer. He was clad in a balaclava with a skull holding a blade between it's teeth was painted onto it.

 

The silence was nearly eerie as everyone seemed to hold their breath, though out of respect or fear, Smoke wasn't sure which. All he knew was that this man was the leader. Either that or a very important figure to whoever this terrorist group was, but he didn't care to try to find out either. His gaze had turned back onto Kapkan, and he had to fight back the tears that began to brim.

 

"You said this one's the medic. Which one is this?"

 

Smoke reached up to grip a thick wrist as a gloved hand yanked his head up by the hair, the young man glaring up at the masked man before him. "This's the one that gassed half of Adil's group." 

 

"Oh really?" The raspy voice questioned, the leader slowly getting down on one knee in front of Smoke, the young man glaring as best he could amidst the pain and emotional anguish he was currently suffering. "Tell me, did you create those yourself? I must say I've never seen a gas cause those types of affects before."

 

Unsure of how to respond, Smoke looked towards Doc, his companion giving the slightest shake of his head as if to warn him. 

 

"Ah ah, don't look over there," a hand roughly turned Smoke back to face the man crouching before him, "you look right here, and answer my question."

 

Swallowing as he waited for a few moments in defiance, Smoke finally set his jaw. "No," he finally answered, refusing to let his gaze wander from the hard grey before him. "They were supplied. I don't know who made them."

 

Smoke couldn't see the larger man's face, but by the way he was looking at him, he could only guess that the other was smiling. "Hm. Shame."

 

Dread began to build up in Smoke, the young man watching as the assumed leader of the terrorist group pushed himself to his feet, gaze shifting over to Doc. "Leave him here, but bring the Brit."

 

Doc moved as if to get up, but Smoke moved faster, fist connecting with the stomach of whomever was closest to him, quickly sweeping his legs out from under him. The first fell with a surprised grunt as the young soldier tried to grab at the enemy commander. His attempts were futile, however, as he found himself on the ground with three bodies pinning his own.

 

"Something that's always amused me is how your soldiers fight upon capture." That rasping voice murmured, everything silent save for Smoke's heavy breathing. "Even when you're so obviously outnumbered, you still fight." Booted feet wandered closer as Smoke glared, teeth clenched as the unknown terrorist knelt down in front of him, head tilted in an almost condescending way. "Don't lose that fire. You'll need it."

 

"What about the medic?" Someone suddenly questioned.

 

"Leave him."

 

"But he can call in reinforcements! Give them intel!"

 

There was a low chuckle as the skull-faced man turned towards a suddenly skittish comrade. "There are others, aren't there? Survivors?" He questioned, that of which seemed to confuse the other. "I'm not... sure. We haven't had time to ensure that there wasn't." The shorter answered, shifting ever so slightly.

 

The grey-eyed man was smiling again, an odd glint in his eyes. "Then the medic will have to choose," he answered, turning to face Doc now. "He can either throw away his life and others who lie here possibly alive and wounded for one man. One that he can't save at all on his own or," that cold gaze turned towards Kapkan's lifeless body a few feet away. "He can work on saving those he can."

 

Smoke ground his teeth together as he tried to avoid looking at Kapkan's body, lower lip trembling as he fought to keep back the emotions threatening to break through the anger and fear. Those words kept ringing through his mind... я люблю тебя. я люблю тебя. He hadn't been able to say it back...

 

When the bodies atop his own lifted, Smoke immediately tried to get to Kapkan, slipping in the blood as hands grabbed at his arms and jerked him upright. "No! Let me go!" He shouted, thrashing as he attempted to reach the downed russian, desperately wanting to say those words back to him. я люблю тебя.

 

"Marius!!" 

 

His throat was sore now. Doc looked at a loss of what to do, confusion and trepidation dancing over his face as three enemy soldiers stood over him, ensuring that he didn't attempt to help his comrade.

 

"Gus! You gotta save him! Please you gotta save him!" Smoke shouted as he fought the hold his captors had on him, booted feet scrabbling to get a foothold. He was losing sight of Doc, of Kapkan.

 

He hadn't said it.

 

я люблю тебя.

 

He hadn't been able to tell him.

 

I love you.

Chapter 2

It all hit him the moment he was finally left on his own, bruised and aching, in a too-large room. The lighting was enough to give him a headache, but Smoke was too focused on the hole where his heart had been pulsating that morning. It hurt so much, more than any physical wound ever could.

 

Kapkan was gone, gutted like a beast without being given a chance at life. Never again would he be able to bury his face in the older man’s neck and breath the familiar scent, never sit in the other’s lap to be encircled in that protective embrace he sought out many a dark night. Never hear that deep voice whisper comfortingly in his ear as he tried to come to terms with whatever monstrosity he’d committed in name of his country.

 

Smoke’s lower lip trembled as he tried to push those thoughts away, Kapkan’s last words to him. Words he’d failed to return.

 

Putting weight on his left leg had the british man groaning softly, quickly shifting back onto his good leg. He was standing on a very small block of some sort of stone, barely big enough for both his feet to rest upon, while his hands were tied behind his back, chain around his neck to force him onto the tips of his toes. Any relaxation would cause the makeshift noose to tighten, forcing Smoke to remain upright. A difficult task considering he only had one good leg to support his full weight.

 

A door opening from somewhere behind had the young man attempting to turn to face whoever had entered, his good foot slipping off the block.

 

The skull-faced man appeared in front of him as he choked, desperately trying to get back onto the block with his bad leg, straining to reach it as those piercing grey eyes observed his panic with amusement. “Get him back up.”

 

Rough hands grabbed at Smoke, pulling him forwards so he could regain his footing, legs trembling with the exertion as the young man tried to find a way to keep himself on the block without it being so exhausting.

 

“Difficult, isn’t it?”

 

Smoke turned his head ever so slightly as the masked terrorist sat in a seat brought over by one of his subordinates, the large man crossing one leg over his knee as he looked his captive up and down with obvious interest.

 

“Go to.. hell.” Smoke managed to form the words with some sense of confidence, something he was truly proud of. This was nothing. He’d been trained to withstand more than this! This was child’s play and he-

 

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

 

The words tore apart any resistance Smoke had been building up in preparation for what was undoubtedly going to be an interrogation, though what they were looking for or wanted, he wasn’t yet aware of.

 

“Were you two, I don’t know,” the masked man gave a small shrug of his shoulders, “close?”

 

Smoke clenched his jaw as he tried to keep out images of Kapkan’s lifeless body amidst his own blood, blood of which still stained the brit’s hands and knees. His fingers flexed ever so slightly at that thought.

 

“Must’ve been horrible, having to witness his death in such a way.” The chair scooted ever so closer, causing Smoke to have to choke himself in order to meet the other’s gaze, a gaze that wandered way too much. Like a predator that sized up their prey. “I do believe it wasn’t too bad. He’d only have remained conscious for another minute or so. It’s the time before the darkness that is the most unsettling,”

 

“Don’t talk about him!” Smoke cried, kicking out at the larger man, booted foot connecting hard with something, giving the brit a sense of satisfaction even as he found himself suspended by the chain again, feet scrabbling to find the block again. There was no need. Hands were on him, arms wrapping around his legs to restrain them as well as lift him enough to keep him from losing consciousness due to lack of air.

 

Struggling as best he could, Smoke glared venomously as his captor stood up, one hand rubbing his chin as he silently sidled closer. “Now that was foolish.”

 

Smoke cried out as a fist connected with his stomach, knocking the air out of him. With his hands and legs restrained he had no way of effectively retaliating, instead only able to glare as best he could as a gloved hand gripped his chin, forcing him to meet that cold gaze.

 

“First your fingers go cold. You feel paralyzed, like you’re drowning.” The gray-eyed terrorist whispered as if what he were saying was a secret, “every time you inhale you suck fluids into your lungs. You can’t call for help, can’t move. The panic and fear sets in, but no one can hear you.”

 

Staring into that cruel gaze, Smoke was fighting so hard to keep from reacting to the other’s words, biting the inside of his lip to hide the trembling, taking a deep breath through his nose to try and prevent the tears from forming. Had Kapkan been frightened while he lay there? Knowing Smoke was nearby but unable to help him? To hold his hand as he passed?

 

“So you were close.”

 

It was a statement, not a question, and Smoke just regarded the other in silence, refusing to give a verbal response. Anything he had to say wouldn’t do anything for his situation or Kapkan. Kapkan was gone, and he was in a hostile environment. If he wanted to survive and keep some form of sanity, he had to forget. If – when – there was a rescue, he had to be prepared for it.

 

Komrades, Kapkan would say.

 

“No closer than the usual soldiers.” Smoke finally responded, keeping his tone as void of emotion as physically possible.

 

The grey-eyed male laughed and gave a nod. “We’ll find out, won’t we? But right now we have other matters to discuss.” The larger man turned and gave a nod to someone out of the brit’s line of sight. He needn’t have worried, the makeshift noose looped around his neck loosening as  it was slackened, allowing Smoke’s captors the opportunity to dump him on the ground.

 

Pain flared through his injured leg as Smoke ground his teeth together, unable to do much else than prop himself up on one elbow.

 

“Seat him.”

 

Smoke choked down a groan as rough hands grabbed him under each arm, forcefully pulling him to his feet before pivoting him and forcing him into a chair.

 

A table was carried over, along with a second chair for the grey-eyed terrorist, Smoke shifting slightly as a large bucket of water was carried over and deposited directly in front of him.

 

Blue eyes took in the bucket before looking at the men standing on either side, Smoke finally turning his full attention onto his main enemy, the one that seemed to hold the power over what happened to him. “I have nothing you want.”

 

There was laughter as the big brute of a man seated himself, sitting forwards so he could place his hands on the table before him. “Maybe not when I first set out to cripple your team, but after seeing what your… bombs could do to a man, I must say I’m interested.”

 

Smoke was tense, glancing at the man to his right out of the corner of his eye. Had his leg been fine, he would’ve attempted to bolt, but as it was he’d have to wait until he’d healed somewhat.

 

As if he knew what his young captive was thinking, the bigger man laughed. “There’s nowhere to go. Even if you hadn’t been… conveniently injured during the attack, we’d have had to cripple you somehow.” He announced, head tilting ever so slightly. “By the time your leg heals, you’ll be too broken to go anywhere.”

 

The words were sickening, the meaning barbaric, but Smoke just turned his attention back onto the other, remaining silent.

 

“Lets be clear. You had the bombs, you armed them, you killed several of my men,” the raspy voice continued, “so you know more about them than anyone else, I’m sure. If not what the contents are, someone who does.”

 

Smoke straightened ever so slightly, regarding the other in silence.

 

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

 

The question went unanswered, the young brit remaining both silent and still, though there was a flicker of trepidation in the clear, blue eyes.

 

Shrugging, the larger man dipped his head. “Alright.”

 

Smoke barely had a chance to react when hands were suddenly on the back of his neck and head, forcing it forwards and underwater. Even as he told himself everything was fine, that it was just water, that they didn’t want to kill him, the panic began to set in. The inability to breath was frightening, the burn in his lungs growing rapidly as he began to struggle, trying to get loose even with his hands bound behind his back. Any resistance he gave was laughable at most.

 

Jerked backwards so he slammed against the back of his chair, Smoke coughed and gagged, sandy bangs sticking to his forehead as he rapidly looked around in desperate panic. The lighting was suddenly too bright, the men guarding him looking bigger than they really were.

 

“Hey!”

 

Smoke’s head whipped back towards his tormentor, slightly confused as well as a little fearful now. If he pushed the other far enough, would he be executed? Tortured to death? Either way, he couldn't divulge the secrets he possessed. Specifically when they were about a weapon he'd created. A weapon that could easily be used to harm thousands of innocent people.

 

"You keep your eyes right here," the older man ordered, making a gesture as if to ensure Smoke fully understood. "Now, what's in the bombs?"

 

"I told you, I don't-"

 

Smoke barely had time to take a breath before he was shoulders deep in the water again, struggling a little more insistently than the first time as he attempted to get loose, to get a breath.

 

Sputtering as he was pulled backwards, Smoke truly just wanted to cry. Kapkan had always said he was too emotional, too invested in things. Maybe his deceased companion was right.

 

"The US government doesn't consider this torture," the grey eyed man murmured in a taunting voice. "What do you think?"

 

 

Chapter 3

Notes:

WARNINGS:
-Threatened Rape/Non Con
-Reference to Injury/Torture
-Wounds
-Psychological/Emotional Torture
-Emotional Breakdown
-Mild Injury Description
-Cruelty
-Crude Language
-Taunting/Mocking

 

NOTE: There will **NEVER** be a chapter either describing (or depicting) rape/non con. It will be referenced and occasionally threatened, but that is all.

Lights... The lights were blinding him...

 

Voices...

 

Screaming....

 

Was someone calling for him?

 

He couldn't see... 

 

It felt so cold... Why did he feel so cold?

 

Kapkan's eyes shot open as he flung himself upwards, the russian nearly toppling over when he was struck by a wave of dizziness, saving himself only by supporting himself against the wall to his left. He was breathing heavily, eyes tightly shut as he waited for the throbbing in his head to recede, the dizziness to pass enough so he could open his eyes.

 

The familiar surroundings did little to calm him, Kapkan's breathing still heavy and labored as he struggled to remember, to remember... Something. Something was important, should be important, but he was having trouble recalling it. Was he supposed to do something today? Was he...

 

Noticing the IV in his arm, Kapkan's brow furrowed as his confusion multiplied, the russian attempting to scoot over to the edge of the bed when the door opened to admit a very exhausted looking Doc.

 

Kapkan felt a sense of relief as he opened his mouth to try and speak, struggling for a few moments before he managed a rasping "Doc".

 

The frenchman paused in surprise upon seeing the most severe of his patients sitting up in his bed, his surprise quickly passing as he hurried over to the russian's side, dropping his bag on the floor with a loud Thud!

 

"Doc..." Kapkan tried again, his voice forming little more than a whisper as the other man's hands were on him, gently but forcefully pushing him back down to lay on his back.

 

"Don't sit up. I need to look at this," the medic ordered firmly, fingers tilting Kapkan's chin upwards a little before peeling away a bandage the russian hadn't even known was there.

 

Kapkan flinched slightly when he felt fingers prod at something sensitive, grabbing Doc's wrist to pull his hands away. "What're you doing?" He demanded, the sharpness of his tone lost to the weakness that was his voice, the russian extremely uncomfortable with having anyone's hands that close to a vulnerable area like his neck. 

 

Frowning in confusion the blonde male looked down at him, Doc's blue eyes holding a sort of fatigue that Kapkan rarely saw in them. "You don't remember..."

 

The statement caught the russian off guard, Kapkan unwinding his fingers from where they were curled around the other's wrist, squinting up at Doc. "Don't remember what?" He demanded, feeling like an injured wolf trapped in a corner with nowhere to run. "Doc, what happened?"

 

Kapkan could see from the other's expression that something had happened. Something terrible. "Doc, please."

 

Regarding his patient in silence for a moment, Doc shifted from where he knelt, a gloved hand rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion. "The White Masks attacked our hideout," the frenchman finally announced, voice tired and bitter as he spoke, "we managed to send a distress call, but being in enemy territory and all..."

 

"Nobody could help in time." Kapkan finished when the other trailed off, frowning as he reached up to his neck, fingers running along a rough line of skin.

 

"We weren't prepared," Doc continued now, eyes downcast. "The got in and nearly killed us all," the medic added with a pained look, "but you were the worst. They cut your throat and left you to bleed out. I didn't really think you'd survive."

 

It was all coming back to him now, the explosions, the gunfire, the blood and pain. Smoke. Smoke!

 

Doc could see the question forming on Kapkan's lips and he quickly shook his head.

 

A sinking feeling overcame Kapkan as he stared at the blonde man in disbelief. "He's not. He was fine when I saw him!" The Russian stated sharply, voice getting a little stronger now. Seeing the pain in Doc's eyes, he forced himself to calm down, breathing heavily for a few moments before speaking again. "Where's Jamie, Gus?"

 

Lower lip trembling, Doc looked away from the other, eyes shut tightly as he tried to forget what had happened - the choice he'd made. "He's gone. They took him."

 

Kapkan could only look at his companion blankly for a few moments before speaking again: "how long have I been unconscious?" He questioned, though by his tone of voice it was clear that it wasn't a question, but a demand.

 

"Almost three weeks."

 

The whispered words were like a kick to the guts, Kapkan finding himself at a loss. "And no one went for him?" He questioned hoarsely, pushing himself back into a sitting position, slapping Doc's hands away when the frenchman tried to push him back down again. 

 

"Maxim, nobody was well enough to go after him, and even if they were, we were outnumbered!" Doc attempted to explain to his agitated patient, the Russian rumbling in anger. "MAX!" The frenchman shouted, grabbing Kapkan's shoulders to give him a shake. "Nobody was coming for us! Nobody! That means no transport, no medicine, no help. I was the only one that could've done anything, but going after James would've meant leaving everyone else to die. A waste, considering I would've died in the process and James would still be in the same position as he is now!"

 

Kapkan shoved the medic away, numb fingers ripping the IV from his arm and tossing it aside, the taller man using the bunk above him to pull himself to his feet. Once there he had to stand still for several moments for the dizziness to pass, the rush in his ears blocking out Doc's voice.

 

"Where's my gear?" The Russian demanded, stumbling from support to support as he headed for the door despite the feeling of sickness rising up in him and Doc's continued protests. "I need to know everything you can tell me about where he was taken. Descriptions of any White Masks you have, and anything else that could be relevant." 

 

Fuze was standing outside the door to catch him when he fell, Kapkan struggling to get back up, but his countryman's arms only tightened around him. 

 

"Спокойный, друг." Fuze ordered, but it only made Kapkan fight his grip even more aggressively, cursing and snarling threats as Doc attempted to console him as well. However, regardless of how hard he fought the other Russian's hold on him, Kapkan tired quickly until he could only weakly push at the other's chest.

 

"Отпусти меня," Kapkan ordered hoarsely, voice void of the previous sharpness it had held as Fuze forcibly lifted him off his feet to carry him back into the room he'd been attempting to escape. " Положи меня!"

 

Doc was there now, Fuze pinning his squadmate's arm down to the bed so the medic could re-administer the IV. "I'm sorry, Kapkan. There's nothing you can do." The medic murmured, his voice a mix of pain and guilt. "If there was, I'd have already done it." He added.

 

Glaring up at the frenchman when Fuze finally released his arm, Kapkan took a deep breath while setting his jaw. "You should've let me die so you could've saved him. You might think that saving us was the right decision, but who knows what they're doing to Jamie?" The Russian knew his words were heartless, but he couldn't keep them from forming. His lover was gone, possibly dead if not alive and suffering.

 

The White Masks were not known for their kindness to prisoners.

 

Doc regarded Kapkan for several moments before slowly nodding his head and turning, pace absent as he departed from the room, the door shutting behind him.

 

"Это было жестоко," Fuze spoke up, voice soft as he looked down at his injured countryman, "Doc остался на твоей стороне, пока он не был уверен, что ты это сделаешь. Отложите другие травмы, потому что его вина за проигрыш James заставила его хотя бы спасти вас." He added.

 

Staring up at the bunk above him, Kapkan shook his helm. "Another decision that could've proven fatal for one of the others. Nobody should let their guilt drive them." The Russian answered.

 

Fuze was silent for several moments before leaning over and giving his companion the lightest smack to the face. "Вы не единственный, кто хочет найти James," he declared, ignoring the glare he was receiving from his friend. "Я считаю, что Doc работал так трудно, чтобы спасти вас, потому что он знал, что ты единственный, кто мог его найти."

 

Looking up into the hazel eyes above him, Kapkan was silent for several moments. "And yet he refuses to let me find him."

 

Shaking his head, the tiniest smile broke out on Fuze's face, a rare ocurrence though it lasted for the briefest of moments before it was gone. "Now you're just being stubborn." He answered with a sigh. "Doc won't let you look for James when you can barely stand up. What're you gonna do? Walk up a White Mask and demand that he take you to James after he catches you? You'll just be handing yourself over to them as well, then James would have nobody to find him." The spetsnaz soldier explained.

 

Kapkan turned his face away. "The longer I wait, the less chance there is he's still alive." He responded quietly, finally voicing his fear.

 

"James has something they want or they wouldn't have taken him. He's strong, Max. He'll endure." 

 

The attempt to comfort his companion didn't seem to help as Kapkan shut his eyes as if to dispel horrible images. He remained like that for several moments before he turned his tormented gaze onto Fuze.

 

"Если они не убьют его душу ."

 

***

 

James.

 

"JAMES!"

 

Smoke startled from a troubled sleep at the voice in his ear, lashing out towards the dark figure with a soft sound of fear, his wrist caught in an iron grip that prevented him from striking his target.

 

"James! Calm down!"

 

That voice...

 

The accent, the odd harshness...

 

"Max?" Smoke choked out, disbelief in his voice as he reached out a shaking hand towards the masked face, Kapkan grabbing a hold of that hand too, giving a quick squeeze to soothe the young Brit.

 

"Quietly, James." He answered, glancing around at the tiny cell Smoke had been thrown into after another failed interrogation attempt.

 

Smoke was trembling now, both his mind and heart wrapped in turmoil as he struggled to believe that this was Kapkan. That Kapkan had come to rescue him from this hell. He didn't even know how long it'd been. It could've been a week.

 

"M-M-Max," the younger male stammered out, grasping at Kapkan's familiar camo uniform to get his attention. "H-How long..?"

 

The shadowed face regarded him for several moments before Kapkan turned his attention onto Smoke's arm, turning it over to regard the jagged wounds marring the pale skin. His free hand hovered over them as if they wanted to touch, to soothe, but were incapable of doing so. 

 

"Four years."

 

The words were a blow to the dirtied man, Smoke opening and closing his mouth for several moments in an attempt to find his voice, but Kapkan placed a gloved finger up to his lips to quiet him just as the sound of footsteps passed outside.

 

"Can you walk?"

 

Wide-eyed, Smoke nodded as the russian helped him get to his feet, easily supporting the younger man's weight against himself as he eased the cell door open to ensure that the hall outside was empty. 

 

Smoke let out a soft hiss when the bright lighting struck him, shielding his eyes with his hands as he stumbled alongside his rescuer. He could feel the beginnings of a headache building, but he ignored it, heart pulsating fearfully as they navigated the halls, the Brit trusting Kapkan to get him to safety.

 

They were turning a corner when Kapkan suddenly backpedalled, all but shoving Smoke back down the hall a ways to a door, the Russian rattling the knob in his desperation to get the door open quickly enough before he forced his way inside with his injured companion. Apologetically half-dropping Smoke to the ground, Kapkan spun on his heel to carefully push the door shut behind him.

 

Several sets of footsteps passed outside the door, accompanied by the voices of a half dozen men.

 

In the darkness of the room, Smoke breathed heavily through his mouth as he tried to remain as still as possible, terrified. He was barely able to conceal a cry of surprise when the light flicked on to reveal an empty lab. The only other person in the room was Kapkan, and he was going through the cabinets and drawers with an odd sense of panic.... Smoke didn't think he'd ever seen Kapkan lose his cool, save for that... that one day.

 

"Wh-what are you looking for?" Smoke finally spoke up from where he sat against the wall by the door, Kapkan glancing towards him.

 

"We need to pass by the barracks in order to get out of here. We need to find something that'll put them under or something." The Russian explained, glancing at the labels to several different vials and bottles. "James I'm no good with this. You gotta find something." 

 

Using the wall to get himself to his feet, Smoke nearly bit through his lip to keep himself quiet as the soles of his feet took his full weight. His captors cut open the tender flesh on a daily basis to discourage escape attempts now that his knee was somewhat better. They mutilated his feet regardless of the fact that he couldn't walk without pain or a severe limp due to his knee injury. The Brit was convinced they did it for fun now.

 

Grasping at the counter nearby his lover, Smoke held out a hand for the vials Kapkan was holding, taking the one offered to him, not even bothering to check the label before pulling the top off with his teeth and smelling it. He could tell what substance or chemical it was by scent, as well as other things. Of course, there was a certain danger in scenting chemicals without knowing what they were, but Smoke found little reason to care. What would it matter if he killed himself now? Kapkan would be fine eventually, wouldn't have to deal with his pitiful self anymore. Not that the Brit was usually careful when he handled chemicals, but at the moment his carelessness was purposeful.

 

Tossing the vial into the sink, Smoke held his hand out for the next.

 

"Think you can make something with these?" Kapkan questioned softly as he glanced at the door. "Like your bombs?"

 

Smoke froze with the cap of the vial in his teeth before slowly reaching up to remove it. "D-Doubtful." He answered before smelling the contents and tossing that aside too. 

 

"Why not?" Kapkan demanded.

 

He was constantly glancing over at the door now.

 

Smoke stumbled a little closer, heart sinking as he regarded the taller man in silence for several moments, studying him with an alertness he'd lacked for so long. "Say my name again."

 

The Russian startled and turned from where he'd been looking at the door to face Smoke, seeming surprised to suddenly find the Brit so close to him. "James?"

 

Kapkan always called him Jamie...

 

Trembling, Smoke sank to the floor his heart heavy. "You aren't Kapkan." He whispered.

 

The man standing above him was silent before stepping over to crouch down in front of the exhausted man. 

 

Gray eyes regarded him with a cold amusement. "Bravo."

 

Smoke shut his eyes as his captor cupped his cheek, thumb running along his lips in the mockery of a lover's caress. "Such a shame, James. You could've died happy today, but you just had to go and get smart, didn't you?" The accent was gone now, at least the russian one that had been the key to tricking the trembling Smoke into trusting his enemy. "You were so desperate to believe it, weren't you? That your Kapkan survived bleeding out at your base?"

 

Clenching his jaw tightly, Smoke refused to look into the grey eyes before him, instead keeping his gaze downcast as that hand continued to mock him.

 

"I should've just taken you in the cell," his captor was saying, sending a chill down his spine. "Maybe you would've believed it more if you had a cock in you. Isn't that right? You definitely seemed to like your friend's enough to cry about him when we cut his throat."

 

Smoke's lower lip trembled as his eyes filled with tears again, his captor laughing. "And there they are again. The smallest mention of him has you broken, doesn't it? Or maybe it's the fact that you didn't get the fuck you wanted?" The grey-eyed male taunted. "All you have to do is ask. I'm sure I could find someone to stick themselves inside you."

 

He was so close to lashing out when rough fingers turned his face to the side and mocking lips kissed the tears from his cheek, but the moment passed as the creak of leather announced his captor had stood.

 

"Get him back in his cell."

 

Smoke realized that a handful of White Masks had entered the room to witness his weakness, the Brit finding himself unable to care as he stared at them blankly. Absently registering their approach as two of them grabbed him under the arms to force him to his feet. He just let the bulk of his weight transfer to his arms, the young soldier too weak and broken to really help them, instead just allowing his captors to drag him back down the corridors as he openly sobbed.

 

 

 

He was alone in this hell, and would be until the day his captors finally decided to kill him.

 

For Smoke, that day couldn't come soon enough.

Notes:

TRANSLATIONS:
1) Calm, friend

2) Let me go

3) Put me down!

4) That was cruel

5) Doc stayed by your side until he was sure that you would do it. Postpone other injuries, because his fault for losing James made him at least save you.

6) You're not the only one who wants to find James

7) I believe that Doc worked so hard to save you, because he knew that you were the only one who could find him

8) If they don't kill his soul

Chapter 4: Public Announcement

Hello fans and readers of Pernicious' amazing work,

 

I write this with a heavy heart to inform those of you that are still following/interested in his works that he passed away a short while ago to suicide. He always enjoyed writing, and I think we can all agree he had an amazing talent for storytelling and capturing his reader's attention. 

 

I would have posted this earlier, but I just got back from a long hiatus and got the email from his boyfriend tonight. 

 

We will miss him here amongst the pseuds, as we are all very connected and shared a love for writing. 

 

The future of Pernicious' stories that are yet unfinished remains unclear, as when I talked about it with the others, he only shared his ideas with one of us pseuds, and we don't know if it would ruin what he's already written. There is also the question of what Pernicious would've wanted, and we are torn into two groups on that count. But while we figure that out we did agree that his readers should know. We all lost a friend, and many others lost an amazing writer.

 

Thank you and be well,

 

Malicious_Intent