A/N: This is my version of an original 5.0 episode, entitled King of the Hill. In that episode, Danny is taken hostage by a deranged marine in 1969. My version follows the same basic plot, but with 2010 characters. All mistakes are mine.
A/N II: This is a revision of my previously posted one-shot. After receiving a few unfavorable reviews (which were well deserved) I have decided to edit /revise and as a result it will now be a short multi-fic with a few new twists and turns. Lots of Danny whumpage.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The section of the Palace in which 5.0 inhabited was dark as it should been on an early Sunday morning. There was no one there to notice him slip in. And why should anyone? He was an expert in what he did after all. A trained Navy SEAL, he was skilled at being invisible and deadly. In fact, it had been his skills that had brought him here. He had to make others understand just how valuable he was to his country. He was innocent of those charges in which he had been accused. He had not gone against the rules of war and needlessly tortured those people. An outstanding member of the SEAL community he had done what was necessary to complete his mission. He had saved countless lives and if others had, had to suffer so be it.
McGarrett, if only he could make him see that his intentions were nothing but honorable. McGarrett's initial betrayal had stung until he realized his superiority. McGarrett might have been the SEAL team commander, but it was his skill that had lead them to victory time and time again. Yes, he would show McGarrett and convince him not to testify before the Judge Advocate General. He would get him to see that his country still needed him.
Ah, who was this coming down the corridor? Voices went off in his head telling him to spring into action. Members of the Taliban were here. His mission was to protect this Palace before they took it over, or worse destroy it.
Danny was completely unprepared when he'd entered his office and was met with a knife to the gut. It had all happened in a one swift motion. Someone had come up behind him, secured him in a headlock and stuck him in the right side of the abdomen. The pain was intense like someone was ramming him with a hot poker. Instantly, gravity pulled him downward, but his assailant commanded that he stay upright.
"What's your rank, Sailor?" the man growled refusing to loosen the headlock.
Rank? Did the guy just seriously say rank and sailor in the same sentence? Did he look like a sailor? Struggling against the man's grip, Danny managed to find his sharp tongue.
"Master Chief, Tom Doherty, SEAL Team 1. AKA Mad Man," the man answered with a hint of pride.
Mad Man, you got that right. Danny droned silently. The fact that the man was a SEAL told him he was probably dealing with yet another one of Steve's deranged friends.
"You wouldn't happen to be friends with a guy named Bull Frog would you?"
"Your rank!" Mad Man commanded driving the knife back into Danny's flesh.
Danny grimaced and bit down on his lower lip, to keep from crying out. He couldn't believe that the man had just stuck him again. He was sure that the wounds weren't meant to kill him, but rather annoy and incapacitate. That was until the burning sensation began to well up like a fireball in his gut. Instantly, he started to sweat and his skin went flush, in time with a violent rumble of his stomach.
I will not, puke. I will not puke he repeated commanding an all too familiar lump back down his throat.
"I asked for your rank!" Doherty hissed twisting the knife into the wound.
Unable to stand the pain, Danny let out a howl that he was certain the entire building heard. Damn this guy and his headlock! Knees buckling, Danny was going down. He didn't care if he got choked along the way, nor did he care if he looked like a wuss. Sliding to the floor together, Doherty extracted the knife and watched as the Jersey detective curled up into a tight ball. Gasping for air, Danny was met with a coughing fit which last for several seconds.
"I don't have a rank! Just tell me what you want!" He yelled when the coughing subsided. Kneeling beside the Jersey native, the man reached into Danny's pocket pulling out his phone.
"Call him," Doherty huffed as if Danny were unable to read his mind. It was already painfully obvious to Danny that the man wanted Steve and was going to use him as his bitch until the Rambo style commander arrived. Being a Sunday morning, Danny could only hope that McGarrett wasn't out kayaking or scuba diving. Because if he was Danny had the feeling that it would only mean that there would be more pain and suffering to come.
Steve had just stepped out of his Silverado when his cell phone rang. DANNO The screen of the EVO flashed displaying a picture of Danny's prized Camaro. A puzzled look crossed spread over his face. It was 9:00 on a Sunday morning. Danny should be having pancakes with Grace. It was a well known fact that nothing interrupted his Sunday morning ritual of pancakes with his daughter.
Reaching into the back, he pulled out a set of dress blues fresh from the dry cleaner. "What's the matter? Rachel have your balls on a string again?"
"Grace has the flu." Cough, Cough, Cough.
Steve slung his dress blues over his shoulder and started for the house. "You don't sound much better."
"Me?" Cough, Cough, Cough. "I'm just peachy. In fact, I'm here at the Palace spilling my guts with a buddy of yours. Say's his name is Mad Man."
Mad Man? Steve froze. Instantly, he knew Danny wasn't kidding when he said he was spilling his guts. Mad Man had been the type of SEAL who liked to torture first and ask questions later. And if Danny was with him it stood to reason that Mad Man would use him as a human filet for whatever reason or maybe no reason all at.
"Danny, listen to me. DO NOT, I Repeat Do Not Do Anything to piss this guy off. Just play his game until I get there."
"Easier said than done, you aren't the one bleeding," Danny groaned as he ended the call, setting his phone on the ground. Curious, he watched the man wipe the blade of the knife clean and then douse it with some sort of solution. It was obvious to Danny that the SEAL was an expert with his weapon given the care and precision he was taking to clean it.
"What is that? Disinfectant?"
Doherty ignored the comment and went on working, pulling several new items out of his military issued duffle bag; nothing of which looked remotely appealing to Danny. There was a ball gag, a blind fold, cigarette lighter, a scalpel, and a long length of plastic tubing.
"Let me guess, your favorite T.V. show must be Dexter."
Donning Kevlar, McGarrett, Chin and Kono entered the common area of the 5.0 spaces; a team of armed officers in SWAT gear were directly behind them, ready to advance. As to be expected for a Sunday morning everything was dark and with the exception of Danny's office everything was relatively undisturbed.
"Don't turn on the lights," Steve told Kono as she reached for the switch. From where he stood, Steve could see a dim light coming from Danny's office. Though the privacy shades had been drawn, the light reflected that office had been ransacked and transformed into a protective bunker, the kind that solders use in combat.
"He probably has Danny behind the desk." Steve told Chin noting the desk was being used as a barricade.
Chin nodded, agreeing with the SEAL. "What do you want to do Boss?"
"Play it cool for now. I know this guy. If we make one false move he will slice Danny into a million little pieces."
"Serial Killer," Chin questioned.
"Worse, he's a SEAL gone bad." Steve returned.
Chin kept his weapon trained as Steve stepped in front of him, putting his hands up. "Doherty, I'm here. Now let Danny go!"
Steve should have expected as much. Doherty was a master at his game. He enjoyed the thrill of watching human life squirm far too much to just let Danny go.
Keeping his hands up, Steve inched closer. "I'm not playing this game unless I know Danny's alive!"
Inside the office, Doherty sat crouched behind the overturned desk, holding the knife to Danny's throat. For good measure he had taken the liberty of handcuffing the detective so that his hands were resting above his bleeding abdomen. For the record, Danny loathed the fact that he couldn't move his hands. It was paralyzing to him.
Danny's eyes rolled upward at his captor as he heard Steve called out again.
"DANNO, answer me!"
"You want me to answer him?" Danny asked quietly in a snarky fashion. "You know you should really let me answer him. Otherwise the entire HPD is going to be all over you in about two seconds."
Doherty removed the blade from his neck. At first Danny thought it was so he might he pull him to his feet so that Steve could get a visual, but he was wrong.
Doherty's response to McGarrett's proof of life came in the fashion of his knife slamming into Danny's left shoulder just below the collarbone.
"ARRGH! Danny let loose for all that it was worth. The pain was accompanied by the burning hot poker again! Never mind the tearing of the flesh he just wanted the burning sensation to go away. It felt like a colony of fire ants had built a nest under his skin. "God! Stop Doing That! JUST STOP!"
"Kind of makes you want to tear your own skin off, huh?" Doherty snickered.