PART ONE

By the time he reaches the bar, it's quite crowded, even for a Wednesday night. It takes Steve a few minutes to navigate through the crowds to find the person he is looking for. When he does, a smile lights up his face.

"Jacks!" he calls out as he nears the table. He watches in amusement as the man's head snaps towards him.

"Well hell, if it ain't Smooth Dog," he quickly stands and pulls Steve in a one-armed hug. When he pulls away, he eyes Steve up and down with a smirk. "I see the reserves haven't made you soft," he says, giving Steve's exposed stomach a playful jab.

"Wish I could say the same to you, jackass." Steve eyes his friend critically and doesn't like what he sees. Jacks isn't quite the man he used to be, a little larger and softer around the middle, curly hair growing out and unkempt, a few weeks' growth of a beard covers the bottom half of his haggard face, and eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.

When he'd answered his phone last night and heard Jack's voice on the other end, he'd been elated. There had been something in that voice, though, that had bothered Steve. Seeing Jacks in person only verifies his suspicions.

"Fuck you, Dog," Jack spits out with a laugh as he slumps back down into his chair. He's managed to find a relatively quiet part of the bar.

The position of the table and Jacks, however, doesn't pass by Steve. Jacks picked the corner-most table where he could have his back to a wall and the greatest vantage of most of the bar. He's being vigilant, Steve knows, a habit that was hard to break after so many years being watchful and a bit paranoid. The little pieces of the puzzle are coming together and Steve doesn't like where all of this is heading.

Still, he sits down across from Jacks, turning so his back is against the wall as well. He'll follow Jack's lead for now. He flags down a passing waitress and orders a beer, then waits patiently for Jacks to start.

"So Hawaii, huh?"

"Yeah. Came back for my father's funeral and found a reason not to leave again," Steve states simply.

"Ah shit. Sorry to hear about your dad. Never did get a chance to tell ya before you left," Jacks slides his fingers through the condensation on the bottle in front of him, brows drawn together in concentration. He swallows thickly before meeting Steve's eyes again. "It all kinda went to shit after you left, but the guys understood."

Steve nods, appreciating the sentiment. After receiving that call, things had moved pretty quickly. He'd been packed up and boarding a plane in the blink of an eye. He hadn't had a chance to talk to his team, leaving someone else to deliver the news to them. He hated leaving his team, the most important people in his life, like that without so much as an explanation. Knowing they understood, though, felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"When did you get out?" Steve asks, smiling briefly as the waitress brings over his beer. He takes a slow sip and watches as a fleeting look passes over Jack's face before he looks up.

"'Bout a year ago. Took a round in the hip trying to extract a high value target from a hostile area. Got a medical discharge and went into the private sector." Jacks shrugs casually, belying the seriousness of the situation.

Steve knew Jacks the best out of his entire team. He'd enlisted with Jacks, went through BUD/s with him, went on countless missions with him. Steve knew how much being in the Navy, being a SEAL, meant to Jacks, so he knew for a fact that this wasn't just something he could shrug off. Jacks was just trying to make the best of a bad situation.

"I heard the private sector pays well," Steve can't quite keep the ice out of his voice as he speaks and knows it too by the look that crosses his friend's face.

"Yeah, I heard about Bullfrog. Man that was fucked up." Jacks shakes his head. "It ain't like that though, not my gig. I get paid to sit in a chair and watch monitors all day and to babysit high value targets." Jacks smiles then, the real smile Steve remembers from his friend. "Course, it's nothing like being a badge or anything."

Steve can't help himself, he laughs at that. He plucks his badge from his belt and plunks it down on the table in front of his friend. Jacks picks it up and inspects it for a moment, whistling low to himself.

"Damn, Dog. I heard you got yourself a nice set up here. Head of a special task force. You never slow down, do ya?"
"Never," Steve replies, sliding the badge back into place. "So what brings you to Hawaii, Jacks? And don't tell me for the beaches."

"What?! Can't a guy take a vacation once and a while? I just wanted some R and R."

"Bullshit." Steve eyes Jacks critically. Jacks has never once lied to his face. "You hate the beach. You love the ocean, but I know for a fact how much you loathe sand. Don't feed me that bullshit. Shoot straight."

Jacks takes a long pull from his beer, eyes skipping over the crowd almost nervously before he settles on Steve once again.

"You're right, I came here to see you." When Steve starts to protest, Jacks shakes his head and stands up. "Not here."

He takes off out the door of the bar and Steve has no choice but to follow, dropping a twenty on the table to cover their bill. When he makes it out behind the bar, he finds Jacks standing a few feet from the sand watching the water.

"What's going on, Jacks?" Steve questions as he comes to stand next to his friend. He can read the tension in Jack's shoulders, in the set of his jaw.

"Someone is following me," he states quietly. After a moment's hesitation, he cuts a glance at Steve. "And don't bother giving me that 'you're just paranoid from being at war' bullshit. I know damn well how to track and assess a threat, just like you. I'm not imagining it, Steve."

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. To anyone else, it would sound far-fetched. Steve, however, knows Jacks, he can read the fear and anxiousness in every inch of his body. Whatever has him spooked, it's real.

"All right. Tell me what's going on."

Steve steers Jacks through the parking lot, towards his truck. If someone is following him, it's best not to discuss it out in the open. They drive in tense silence for a few miles, taking as many turns as possible and looping back around twice before Steve parks them in a deserted parking lot near the water. A few cars had hung with them for a little while but the last car passed them a minute back, a quarter of a mile before they turned off.

When he turns to Jacks, he still doesn't look comfortable. He's got his eyes glued to the side mirror on the truck just waiting for headlights to appear. After a minute, he slowly lets out a breath and turns towards Steve.

"Two months after I was discharged, I took a job with Olympus Security in Texas. The owner hired me as a consultant to enhance his security company, then next thing I knew, I was working as his personal security as well. Everything was fine." Jacks sighs heavily and scrubs a hand across his face and through his hair. "Then a few months in, I saw something on one of the monitors. Some of the guys were loading crates into an SUV. It was suspicious so I started poking around quietly. It's just instinct, ya know?

"It didn't take long before I found out that … well let's just say that my boss was up to no good. I started collecting evidence, copying videos from the cameras before they were scrubbed, copying personnel files and reports, things like that. I was quiet about it, never mentioned it to anyone. I covered my tracks." Jacks turns away from Steve to look out the windshield, face tense. "About a month ago, I started to notice they were icing me out; giving me low level jobs, keeping me out of the security room, things like that. Then I spotted the tail. And last week, I came home to find my apartment had been tossed. My computer destroyed and everything torn apart. They didn't find the floor safe though."

Jacks holds his hand out to Steve revealing a small flash drive.

"They are looking for this. It's all the evidence I collected against them."

"Why haven't you turned it over to the cops or the FBI?" Steve asks, eying the flash drive and wondering what could possibly cause such an ordeal.

"I tried. After I found my apartment tossed, I rabbited. I grabbed my go-bag and the flash drive and left town. Once I was sure I was safe, I contacted someone in the FBI and set up a meeting. But then two days ago, an hour before the meeting was scheduled, I felt like I was being followed again." Jacks curls his fingers around the flash drive again and drops his hand to the seat between them. "I can't escape them. I'm sorry, Steve, I didn't know who else to call."

"What can I do, Jacks?" Steve reaches out and squeezes Jack's shoulder, letting him know that he isn't alone in this anymore.

"I didn't want to involve you in this. These guys are dangerous, Steve. They're all ex-military or former cops." Jacks shakes his head, starting to shut down but Steve grips his shoulder harder.

"Tell me, Jacks. What do you need me to do?" When Jacks doesn't respond, Steve gives him a small shake. "You aren't alone in this."

With a sigh, Jacks nods his head. "I need you to keep this safe." He folds the flash drive into Steve's palm. "If anything happens to me, I need you to make sure this gets into the right hands."

Steve nods. "Of course. What else?"

Jacks just shakes his head. "Nothing. The rest of this is my fight."

Steve watches as Jacks instantly shuts down right in front of him, face going expressionless, eyes staring straight ahead. He nods again, mostly to himself, knowing he won't get anything else out of Jacks, at least not tonight. Instead, he slides the flash drive into his pocket and turns over the ignition in the truck, leaving the dark parking lot in the rearview.

They drive in silence the whole way back to the bar. Jacks sits stiff in the passenger seat, gaze pinned straight ahead out the windshield. Steve glances over at him a few times, but Jacks never thaws out.

When they pull in the parking lot, Jacks doesn't hesitate to open the door and get out of Steve's truck. He starts to close the door, then pauses for a moment. He glances up at Steve, meeting his eyes with a determined look on his face. For a moment, Steve thinks he's going to say something else, but the moment passes quickly. Instead, Jacks starts to close the door.

"You okay to drive home, Jacks?" Steve questions, though he already knows Jacks' answer before he even says it. It's enough to keep Jacks from closing the door all the way though.

"I'll be fine, Dog. I am never out of the fight." Jacks sighs out, though his face has lost some of the tension from before. After a moment, a small smile crinkles up the corners of his eyes and mouth. "Take care of yourself, Steve."

Before Steve can reply, the door is shut and Jacks slips into the shadows of the parking lot. I am never out of the fight, the words roll around in Steve's mind. He knows Jacks is talking about more than just tonight; he is talking about his future. Jacks is a tough son of a bitch; Steve had the honor of training and serving with him for years. He can take care of himself. Steve can't help but feel a niggling of worry, though, wondering if he should call in a few favors just in case.

He stays in the parking lot long enough to see Jacks slip into a car a few spaces away. Once the car is started, Steve puts the truck into gear and starts for home.

It's nearing midnight when Steve pulls into his driveway. With the last vestiges of paranoia wearing off, Steve had taken a few wrong turns and out of the way streets to shake a tail that wasn't there. What should have been a 12-minute drive from the bar to his house had taken nearly 45. He doesn't feel completely settled, though, until he's inside the house.

He breathes a small sigh of relief and almost feels stupid for getting so geared up. Almost, but not quite. It's hard to shake old habits and being with Jacks had triggered all those feelings once again. While most of it has passed, Steve knows he's still too keyed up to get some sleep yet so he heads into his office.

Turning on the laptop, Steve waits patiently for it to boot up while he contemplates the small flash-drive in his palm. Once again he finds himself wondering what could be on the device that could cause such a stir. He's seen enough, in both the Navy and Five-0, to know it could be almost anything. The information people squirrel away and consider top secret, the things they are willing to spill blood over, it's amazing. Knowing Jacks, however, crosses a few things off the list. Jacks wouldn't jump into something unless it had real, devastating effects. Could be drugs or guns, corruption, dirty deals, smuggling, trafficking, the possibilities are near endless.

Once the laptop is booted up, Steve slips the device into the drive and waits with bated breath as a window pops up on the screen. There is one encrypted folder on the drive with a simple name of 'Black'. Steve considers it for a minute before deciding to copy the information over to his computer.

'Secure copy?' a message pops up and Steve takes a moment to thank Danny for talking him into letting Toast 'update' his software. Steve clicks 'yes' and watches as the secure copy starts, the progress bar moving incredibly slow.

After ten minutes of staring at the slow moving green bar, Steve picks up the laptop and heads upstairs. No reason he can't try and get something accomplished while he's waiting for it to finish. He leaves the laptop on his bed to do its work and heads into the bathroom to take a shower.

Twenty minutes later, Steve is sitting, freshly showered and changed, on his bed watching as the progress bar finally ticks over from 99% to 100%. The moment he can, Steve tries to open the file and groans at the encryption screen that pops up. He should have known Jacks wouldn't go to all this trouble and not have a high-bit encryption on the file. It's something that is way too complex for him to even consider at 1am so he quickly powers down the laptop and palms the flash drive.

He heads downstairs with both items in his hands, intending only to deposit them on the desk, but the paranoia is starting to creep up on him again. Dropping the laptop on the desk for the night, he knows that since Toast had his hands on it, it's as secure as it can be. Steve moves toward the back door then. With the lights out, he has a clear view out the window. Pulling the curtain back the slightest bit, he watches the shadows of the night moving. Seeing nothing unusual, he engages the deadbolt and moves off to the front door. He watches the dark shapes moving around his yard, waiting for something to reveal itself. Nothing does. Shaking his head, Steve locks the door and punches in the alarm code, feeling a little more settle when the pad flashes green and 'secured' up at him.

Steve starts for the stairs, flash drive still in his palm, but stops at the foot of the steps. Moving a potted plant out of the way, Steve turns the handle on the small door, a quarter turn left, a full turn right, then another half turn left again before the small door pops open. Ducking his head in the small, dark space, Steve feels along the floor with practiced ease and slides a slat of the flooring away to expose a floor safe. His fingers make quick work of the combination, opening the heavy metal door. The flash drive is quickly deposited and the safe shut once again. Once the floor is back in place, the door latched and the plant once again resting in its normal spot, Steve finally gives into the exhaustion creeping up on him.

As he slides between the sheets, he takes a quick minute to dial Jacks' number. He listens to each ring with a feeling of unease slowly growing in the pit of his stomach. When the automated voicemail message starts speaking, Steve punches the "End" button with a little too much force and blows out a breath. Jacks is a tough son of a bitch; he can handle himself. Steve knows this, but it still doesn't abate his worry. He hadn't thought to check where Jacks was staying. He wishes he would've made sure Jacks got back there safe. He should've made sure they had a separate means of communication in case their phones were compromised. There are a lot of things he could've done differently, but now it's too late.

Taking a deep breath, Steve dials again and listens as the phone once again rings and rings before going to voicemail. Annoyed, he ends the call and tries to tell himself that Jacks has gone to ground or is sleeping it off. Either way, he's safe. Jacks is smart. He's made it this far without backup, he'll be fine for the night until Steve can track him down in the morning. Instead, he opens a new text message and types out a quick message, "package secure", and hits send. He'll find Jacks in the morning, Steve tells himself as he turns off the lamp, and everything is going to be fine.

Thursday mornings are made for headaches, Steve decides as he rushes through the house the next morning. It's not even 8am and already Steve has gotten a call from the governor's assistant requesting a meeting. If he wants to make it to headquarters and start his search for Jacks before his meeting with the governor, he needs to leave now.

Steve grumbles in annoyance under his breath as he holsters his gun and pats his pockets down for his truck keys. He's about to walk out the door when he stops short and has to spin back around to grab his badge off the desk. As he's grabbing the badge, his eyes land on the laptop. He sighs in frustration. He'd wanted to take the drive into HQ and have Chin take a look at it this morning, but he doesn't have time. Instead, he grabs the laptop and hopes that a copy of the encrypted file will be enough for now.

It takes him an extra twenty minutes to reach headquarters due to a snarl of traffic caused by a minor accident. He is still the first one through the doors, however, and he breathes a sigh of relief. It doesn't take long to get the laptop booted up and syncing with his computer and only another few minutes to navigate through the decryption program. He lets it run while he pulls up a search query on Jacks. He runs a search for any credit card usage under Jacks' name and all the aliases that Steve is aware of. He's disappointed, but not entirely surprised, when the search comes up with nothing. The last time Jack's credit card was used was at a gas station nearly three weeks ago. He's been on the run since.

Steve's just contemplating his next move when voices drift into the office from the hallway. He looks up in time to see Kono and Danny heading in. Danny flicks his eyes over to Steve before he's pulled back into his conversation with Kono, Chin only a few steps behind them. Aware of what time it is, Steve quickly gathers up the files that the governor had requested and puts the computers to sleep knowing the program will still run on the server in the background. He's just heading out the door when Danny's voice halts him.

"Running out on us already?"

Steve turns to see him leaning against the doorframe of his office, arms crossed over his chest as he feigns nonchalance.
"I've got a meeting with the governor in about ten minutes. I'm gonna be late if I don't leave now." Steve gestures to the files in his arms. "We're going over caseloads and budgets, wanna provide back up?"

Danny laughs as he pushes off the doorframe. "No, Super SEAL. You got yourself into this mess, have fun with that." Danny pats his shoulder as he passes, heading toward the coffee pot.

It's a ten-minute drive to the governor's office that Steve manages to make in six, arriving with only a minute to spare. His assistant gives his flushed face a sideways glance but says nothing, just directs him to wait on the couch. He spends twenty-five minutes sitting impatiently on the couch, idly texting Danny, before he finds out his meeting will be rescheduled due to a case.
The team spends much of the day crisscrossing the city, responding to burglary alarms, most of which turn out to be false alarms. By the time they've found the pranksters, it's after 7pm and Steve is fed up with the punks and their antics. Steve takes great pleasure in cuffing the kid and handing him and his friends over to HPD for processing. He briefly considers heading back to HQ to get a jump-start on the paperwork, but quickly dismisses it in favor of heading home.

It isn't until he hits the front door that he realizes he left the laptop at the office. For a brief moment he considers going back, thinks about picking up the search for Jacks and tracking him down, thinks about cracking the encrypted file wide open and finally putting this nightmare to rest for his friend. He's got his keys in hand, ready to turn around when he stops. If he's being honest with himself, there isn't much he can hope to accomplish tonight by himself besides adding more frustration on top of the exhaustion creeping into his body. And if he knows Jacks at all, he's probably gone to ground already, buried so far down into a hole that even Steve won't be able to find him until he's damn good and ready to surface. It's the nature of the beast, Steve knows, being on the run from shadows. It doesn't ease the worry in his gut, but rather helps him push it aside for the night.

Arriving at the office Friday morning doesn't go as Steve had planned. He had wanted to get a jump-start on Jacks case, something that had been weighing heavily on his mind even after he'd tried to shove it back. He had wanted to put a dent in the search and have Chin start on analyzing the file. That, however, does not happen.

Instead, Steve is faced with a throng of camera crews, microphones shoved in his face and questions hurdled at him like grenades as he tries to make it into the building.

"Commander, is it true that you have arrested three 17 year-olds in connection with the bank robberies yesterday?"

"Are they going to be facing felony charges?"

"Is there someone else involved with the robberies?"

Steve manages to growl out a "No comment" as he pushes his way through the crowd. Once inside, he snags the arm of the nearest cop he finds.

"Get them out of here," he barks, motioning to the group still gathered outside the door.

The officer nods and rushes away. Steve doesn't stick around long enough to find out if his orders are followed. He takes the stairs two at a time up to their offices only to find another kind of barrage waiting for him. His inbox is flooded with emails from lawyers, the lab, and the governor himself, all asking questions about the case and requesting case reports as soon as possible.

"I'll get right on that," Steve murmurs to his screen as he clicks through the emails, trying to find a place to begin. He barely looks up when the rest of the team comes in an hour later, only acknowledging their presence to dole out tasks.

By Friday afternoon, Steve's so engrossed in paperwork that he loses track of time. The mountain of paperwork that had been looming this morning is complete; cases filed and sent off to the governor for review. He briefly set up new search parameters for Jacks before they were abandoned for a conference call with the governor. It's only when Danny knocks sharply on his door that Steve is pulled back to reality. He waves Danny in as he wraps up the call with the governor.

Danny walks into his office and slings himself down on the couch with a big smile in his face. Steve glances at the clock and watches as it ticks just passed three o'clock.

"Heading out soon?" Steve asks, leaning away from his desk and stretching out the kinks in his back. It feels like he's barely left the chair all day and he needs to move. He stands up, leaning against the corner of his desk as he regards Danny.

"Yeah. Gotta pick up Grace and be back to the school by 4:00," Danny answers with a smile.

Until he mentions it, Steve had completely forgotten the fact that Danny was leaving early. The whole team, in fact, is leaving early today. Danny and Grace are going camping for Aloha girls, Kono is heading up to the North Shore for a long weekend of surfing with some friends, and Chin and Malia are heading to Turtle Bay for a some much needed alone time. It will be Steve manning the fort alone until Monday morning.

"Don't get lost in this mess." Danny indicates the piles of paperwork and case files littered around the room. When Steve just grumbles, Danny chuckles. "Yeah, all right. I'll see you Monday morning."

"Have fun, Danno." Steve watches as he walks out, heading straight for the door. Chin leaves a few minutes later, Kono hot on his heels. They give him a quick wave as they go and suddenly Steve is alone, left with silence and an inbox full of their reports to review.

After signing off on the last report, Steve decides to knock off for the weekend. It's a little before 5, but he thinks it's well deserved after the week they've had. He takes a few minutes to ensure the encrypted file has been copied over to the secure Five-0 server, letting the decryption software work its magic over the weekend, and flagging all of Jacks' aliases in the system in case they pop up. Once he's sure there is nothing else he can do, Steve locks up his office and heads home. It's a nice evening he decides as he climbs into his truck; maybe a long run along the beach is just what's in order to end his week on a high note.

The sun is just starting to sink below the horizon when Steve slows down to a walk, coming up through his backyard. He stretches languidly as he walks up to the back door. The house is cast in shadows, but Steve doesn't give it a second thought as he toes off his sneakers by the back door. He's just reaching into the pocket of his shorts to grab his phone as he walks through the door.

The first hit comes out of nowhere, something heavy and solid that plows into his back and steals his breath. Steve stumbles forward a step with the impact of the hit when the second hit comes. It hits him higher on the shoulders, at the base of his neck, and has him crashing to his knees before he has a chance to react. There is pain pulsing up his back and into his head as he moves, but Steve's adrenaline kicks in and forces his body to move. He barely dodges the third swing, a glancing blow off his right shoulder, as he rolls to the left and up to his feet. His muscles are already fatigued and it shows in his slow reaction time, but Steve moves, keeps moving as a piece of wood swings out from the shadows again, aiming for his head.

It's a leg from his table, Steve realizes belatedly as the wood swings inches from his face. He jerks backwards and stumbles into the broken remains of his table. He catches himself at the last minute and pushes away from the rubble, launching himself at his attacker with a vicious swing. His fist meets flesh and he draws back quickly and delivers another satisfying punch before he loses his advantage. A knee finds its way into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs and Steve to his knees. Another blow is delivered to his back and before he can hope to recover, a hand tangles in his hair and rears his head back only to drive it forcefully into the floor. A loud crack sounds as his face connects with the floor. He's dazed but struggling to pull free when his head is driven into the floor a second time. It doesn't happen a third.

With consciousness comes pain. The edges of the darkness roll back and, in its place, comes a fiery pain in his back and a fierce pain in his head. Noise bullies it's way into his awareness next. Muffled, far-away voices that steadily grow louder followed by crashes and bangs that send spikes of agony through his brain. He breathes deep and slow, keeping as still as possible so as not to jostle his aching body. By the time the pain abates enough for him to force his eyes open, his brain is mostly back online.

Steve finds himself sitting upright in a chair, bare feet planted on a familiar floor. Steve keeps his head down where its been slumped for a while judging by the pain in his neck and tries to take in as much of his surroundings as he can. He's still in his running gear, a simple t-shirt and shorts, though his shoes are gone. He's sitting in a familiar chair, the wooden chair from behind the desk with the arms. His wrists are bound to each arm and his feet are bound together.

He tries to piece together everything in his head, images slowly coming back to him. He remembers coming home and going for a run to clear his mind, he remembers coming back up to the house and discarding his shoes, he remembers going for his phone to try Jacks once again … and then everything blacks out. Judging by the pain still singing through his back and head, he must've met up with quite the resistance at some point. The voices drift closer and this time, Steve dares to pick his head up the slightest bit. He can't see all of them, but he sees two pairs of legs moving in the dim light of the house.

Another crash is heard and Steve watches as his desk is overturned, papers scattering and fluttering to the floor. Books hit the floor with heavy thuds as they are pulled from their shelves and, one by one, searched and discarded. The legs move with a purpose, moving methodically through his house and searching thoroughly. They speak quietly to one another, only a few clipped sentences, but it's enough for Steve to detect an accent that he can't quite identify.

He watches them move for a moment, long enough to know they aren't paying attention to him. If there is anyone else in the house they are either upstairs or outside. He hasn't been able to detect anyone else besides the two currently destroying his office and dining room. Sure that he's not being watched, Steve tests the bindings on his wrists and feels enough wiggle room in one hand to be beneficial. Slowly working his wrist back and forth under the tape, Steve is able to create enough room for him to pull his hand through. It's a tight squeeze but the sweat rolling down his back and arms from the effort helps ease the way. After a few minutes of hard work, he's rewarded with one wrist free.

Instinctually he reaches for his phone but hesitates when the floor behind him creaks. The jig is up, he realizes, and lifts his head to look around. There is no one behind him, but his movement alerts the other two and they stride menacingly into the room. The house is dim, dim enough for Steve to have trouble making out the faces of his attackers, but that could also be the head injury, he realizes as the world shifts alarmingly on its axis. The men are heading straight for him but Steve will be damned if he's going to let them get in the first strike this time. As soon as the first one is close enough, Steve plants his hands on the arms of the chair and pushes up, kicking is legs up and out, straight into the chest of the first man. He stumbles back with the force of the impact, landing hard on the floor at the feet of his comrade.

The second man quickly jerks out of the way of his partner and launches at Steve. Steve swings out his free right arm and catches him across the jaw with a hard punch. With his opponent dazed, Steve launches up from the chair that's still attached to his left wrist. With all the energy he can muster, Steve swings his left arm, chair and all, and catches the second man across the head with the legs of the chair. The wood proves solid as it comes away unharmed from the impact, but the second man hits the floor like a sack of bricks, unconscious and bleeding from a gash across his forehead and cheek.

The first guy has his feet under him and is nearing Steve again. He lands two punches to Steve's face that have him staggering back and a few body shots that have Steve collapsing back into the chair. As he draws nearer, encouraged by Steve's slack body, Steve lashes out with his feet, sweeping the guy at the legs. He crashes to his knees hard in front of Steve, but before he can try to get up, Steve has his legs wrapped around the man's neck. Steve squeezes as hard has he can, choking the guy out. The man is starting to flag, eyes rolling back into his head when the sound of a gun cocking stops him instantly.

"Let him go, Commander," a woman's voice says from over his shoulder. When Steve doesn't immediately release his grip, the barrel of a gun his shoved roughly against the base of his skull.

"I said, let him go." The voice is hard and commanding, broking no room for argument.

Steve releases his grip on the man's neck and lets him fall from between his legs. The man drags himself away, coughing and choking on the sudden rush of air back into his lungs. Slowly, the gun is removed from his head and a woman appears in his line of vision. She smiles coldly as she eyes him.

"They should've tied you up better, Commander. That was an oversight on our part that won't happen again." She steps over the unconscious body of one guy, heel nudging him out of her way as she comes to stand in front of Steve. She regards her other counterpart, slowly coming back to his senses, with annoyance before her gaze settles back on Steve.

"You got one hand free I see. You could've done any number of things with one arm free, namely calling for help. But you didn't." She steps closer, gun still trained on Steve's head. "I see you aren't going to be making this easy on me, Commander. Which means I won't be going easy on you."

"Who are you?" Steve grinds out, trying to keep his sore body as still as possible. When the woman just laughs, Steve tries again. "Who are you?"

"Tie him up." She ignores Steve in favor of talking to her conscious counterpart. When the man moves towards Steve again, the woman tsks in disapproval. "Use these for his wrists," she holds up two pairs of handcuffs. "And this time, bind his legs the chair as well since it's obvious he can take you two out without much of a struggle." Her voice has a harsh bite to it as she hands over the cuffs and watches as her commands are carried out.

Once Steve is secured to the chair again, more secure this time, she flicks the safety on the gun and tucks it back into the holster at her side. She moves towards Steve slowly, eyeing him with a menacing hunger in her eyes. She pauses to pick up the discarded table leg and contemplates it for a moment. Without warning, she brings the leg down with all her force onto Steve's right wrist. Steve cries out in pain as a crack is heard and nearly blacks out when she does it a second time.

"Just for reassurance, to make sure you don't try to slip those cuffs so easily a second time," she says before turning to her partner. "Keep searching. Tear this place apart until you find it. And don't let him get the drop on you again or he'll be the least of your worries, got it?"

Steve is trying to breathe through the pain, the blackness slowly receding from vision when he sees her standing in front of him, table leg still in hand. She shakes her head, dark amusement lighting her face as she swings the weapon again, this time at his head. It connects with his temple, pain flaring instantly before the world goes dark.