Chapter 62: Escape

When they came back it wasn't for Olivia, it was for Clayton.

They were both asleep when the light came on, and Clayton blinked groggily, dread rising in him as he saw Sandra and Velez. "Not Olivia again, for God's sake, she's had enough!" he cried in anguish.

They had arrived in Colombia at what Clayton roughly estimated as two days before. They hadn't even bothered with hoods and walking Clayton and Olivia outside. He'd felt a needle prick his arm, then nothing until he woke up strapped to an almost identical dental chair. His only clue that they were at their destination was the fact that since the floor was no longer moving, they must no longer be on Velez's boat. Sandra had tortured Olivia with drugs and electricity for two days straight, and each time the bitch left Olivia had gotten less and less responsive to his tentative questions afterward. He was worried what the drugs and hallucinations combined were doing to her mental state, and he'd noticed her breathing becoming harsher, more pained, about an hour after Sandra left. Withdrawal, he identified to himself. That too had gotten progressively worse as the amount and apparently the types of drugs Sandra was using changed; the last time Sandra had gotten done with Olivia there had been no answers to his questions, to his repeated calling of her name afterward. She'd lain on the table just gasping with sobs for a short time, then drifted into a drugged sleep. He was gradually coming to the realization that they were going to have to make an all-or-nothing attempt to escape soon, because if he waited much longer Olivia wouldn't be in any condition to run with him, and he was absolutely not leaving her here.

"Oh, no, General. This time it's you. I want to see if we can break your military conditioning. You've been giving Miss Benson advice as Sandra has been playing with her, and she proved to be unusually resistant to our manipulations thus far, though we do think that she's starting to crack." He wandered over to Olivia, raising an eyebrow when he found she hadn't recovered consciousness as the light went on. "When she wakes up we'll try something different. For now, though…let's work on you."

This time it wasn't Olivia whose screams rang off the walls from the application of electric. Electrical impulses can be used as the quickest way to bring massive amounts of pain to a human body without causing permanent damage. The words from his course manual had been just that; words…until now.

And then, just as Sandra had done to Olivia, she now did to Clayton. Clayton screamed in agony as she sent electrical pulses through the probes into his body. His screams finally woke Liv, who cried out his name in anguish at the sight of him writhing in torment.

"Ah, Miss Benson. You're awake. Let's try something different, shall we?"

Velez had Sandra increase the current until Clayton's entire body felt like the electric was tearing him apart. The agony was terrific, made worse by the fact that he couldn't even scream; the electricity paralyzed his diaphragm and he couldn't even draw breath. When they—finally!—turned the current off he was a quivering mess.

"Now. I'm sure you realize by now that I know every detail of Miss Cabot's imprisonment with the African militia. I know what they did to her body, and I know what they forced your soldier to do to her. And," he smiled, "I'm a firm believer in the fact that no commander should ever have a soldier do something he wouldn't. And I know you and Miss Benson had a physical relationship beginning, so this should be…particularly unpleasant for you, being forced to rape her." He smiled and gestured to two muscled goons.

They unstrapped him from the dental chair and bodily hauled him on top of the medical table Liv lay on as Sandra gave Olivia another injection. "Just a little something to enhance her experience," and Sandra's smile promised nothing good. "The injection I gave you is our custom blend of scopolamine, methamphetamine, GHB, and cocaine. The cocaine is going to hyper-stimulate your nerves; the scopolamine and GHB are going to make you come and keep you coming. Your soldier boyfriend is going to feel exquisitely good inside you, and you'll climax so many times you'll tear your insides apart."

They forced Clayton's body into hers, and Olivia gasped and shuddered, her hips rising under Clayton's. He could feel her pulsing around him, and while ordinarily he would love to see her taking pleasure in a physical act with him, knowing it was drug-induced made it a complete turn-off. The electrified probes Sandra had forced into Olivia had overstretched and torn delicate tissue, and although his animal instinct howled in pleasure at the hot wetness pulsing around him, he knew it was her own blood and that made him sick.

But he learned the truth of what Doc had told him over the next few hours; his body's reactions were completely out of his control. They alternated between shocking her and shocking him; the movement of her tortured body twisting around him, her internal muscles pulsing around him, stimulated by the electrified probe still lodged in her bowels, made him come repeatedly until the act of coming was a torture all on its own. Olivia's cries started from drug-induced pleasure to sounds of agonized pain as the current and the involuntary, electrically-induced movement rubbed her raw inside; Clayton could feel hot stickiness on his groin, smell the thick copper scent of blood on his and Olivia's thighs, and wanted to cry in anguish at the bloody mess he envisioned there. The rest of her body was practically unscathed; there were some small red circles of burned skin where the electrode pads had been stuck to the sides of her neck, her temples, and her breasts, but that was all. All the damage had been done to the inside of her body.

What disgusted him the most and fed his icy fury was that he could see Sandra and Velez were getting aroused by the sight of Olivia and Clayton's torture. Velez's pants looked several sizes too tight for him and Clayton was utterly disgusted by the way Sandra was wantonly rubbing up against Velez's body as she watched Olivia scream in agonized ecstasy. They were a bare step away from ripping the clothes off each other's body and sating their desires in front of their captives.

"I'm going to set this on automatic and we can go find some privacy, hmm?" Sandra cooed at Velez, and the man kissed her deeply, passionately, before leaving the room. Sandra smiled at Clayton and fiddled with the electric control box. "So. A little randomly repeating current to keep you occupied while we're enjoying ourselves. Enjoy." She laughed as she left the room. Olivia was too far gone in the drug-induced torture to pay any attention to their absence. She was writhing frantically in her bonds, harsh, garbled sounds coming from her lips; there was no sense or reason or awareness in her eyes; Clayton wasn't sure if it was due to the drugs or if she'd simply dissociated, unable to handle what was being done to her.

Either way, they were going to have to do something. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Not just for him, but for Olivia. Her increasing unresponsiveness was alarming him. Desperate to escape, Clayton yanked backward on his straps with every ounce of strength left in his body. And he was rewarded; he felt a slight give in one of the straps around his right wrist. Sandra had buckled the strap tightly around his wrist, then secured the other end of the strap to some point under the table.

Another yank. He grimaced as the leather dug into his wrist, but gritted his teeth and forced himself to yank again. And again. He had to get free before the damn electric switched from Olivia's body twisting under him to his; there was no way he could continue to work on his escape with the current, and God only knew when their sadistic captors would come back. He had to force himself to tune out the sound of Olivia crying out as she was forced to endure another climax, pushed into it helplessly by the electric current.

And then suddenly the strap gave, and he almost fell backward as one hand came free. He frantically brought his other hand over to release his other wrist, then grabbed handfuls of wires and ripped them from the contact pads. And just in time—as they hit the floor he heard the low whine that signaled the start of his part of the sick cycle, and he almost sobbed in relief as he bent to untie his shaking legs from the legs of the table.

He forced himself to lock his knees as he stepped forward to try and free Olivia. His first move was to get the second probe out of her; she cried out at its removal, then her eyes closed and she slumped back on the table in relief. Blood smeared the probe and her thighs, but it wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it was; most of the hot stickiness he'd felt seemed to be from their combined bodily fluids. He unbuckled the leather restraints around her wrists and ankles with shaking hands, then leaned over her. "Liv. Liv, come on, sweetheart, open your eyes." He pulled her upright and hugged her tightly. "Come on, Liv, we gotta go. Please…"

"Cl...Clayton?" it took two tries for her to get her voice working. Her eyes, when she tried to look at him, seemed to be having trouble focusing. "I'm…so tired…"

He sighed. "I am too, Liv. But we have to go. Any more of this and neither one of us is going to be in any condition to escape."

"Can't….go…without me…I'll…slow you down."

"No!" he shook her urgently, and her face looked startled as she tried to focus on him. "I'm not leaving you behind, Liv. We both go, or neither. Now come on, can you stand?"

"Try…" he helped her slide off the table, then left her leaning against it as he looked for something to cover her with. Her clothes had been dropped carelessly in a corner of the room; he approached them reluctantly, unwilling to touch them for the blood that Sandra had mopped up using them. But there wasn't anything else to be found even after a quick search of the cabinets and drawers.

Her panties were ruined, cut through; her shorts were still in wearable condition as he sorted through them. Her bra strap had been cut—not that she would have been able to put it on anyway, the straps would have chafed the raw burn spots on her skin. Her t-shirt was torn up the middle, but he guided her arms into the sleeves and tied a knot right over her midriff, and it seemed to work well enough.

His heavy military fatigues had apparently resisted attempts to cut them, so he drew them over his own limbs, noting as he did so that their shaking seemed to be getting better. Olivia too seemed to be getting better control over her arms and legs, but he knew she only had a short window before it got worse. Not from the electricity this time, but from withdrawal; If Sandra had been right about the combinations of drugs she'd used, Olivia was going to be in vicious pain from withdrawal symptoms fairly soon and he wanted to get her somewhere at least marginally better than here before those started.

The door wasn't even locked. Apparently Sandra and Velez had been in so much of a hurry and were so sure Clayton and Olivia were unable to escape that they hadn't even taken their usual precaution of locking the door, a fact that Clayton blessed as they stepped out onto the hall. There were no guards around, either; Clayton wondered about it but wasn't going to complain, not when it meant they were this much closer to freedom.

He'd figured out that they must be in a basement or some type of underground holding cell; this proved to be correct when the hall terminated in stairs leading upwards. He took them cautiously, a step at a time, silently, then took a deep breath just before he pushed the door open at the top of those stairs.

He'd braced himself for a fight, and so was taken aback when there proved to be nothing on the other side of the door but a fairly well-appointed living room. The place looked like it had just come out of the pages of an interior designer's catalogue; everything matched, everything was in exquisite taste and the latest style, and the door to the basement was hidden behind a set of large floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books. And the far side of the living room was dominated by heavy sliding glass doors that led out.

Out to a wide green lawn, and, at the far end of it, what looked like…jungle?

He stepped closer, trying to remain on the alert for any possible sound that could indicate possible pursuit, and peered outward. Yes. Jungle. There was a thick gray misty rain coming down outside, but through it he could see a heavy screen of tangled green foliage.

Freedom.

He turned to Liv, and froze. Sandra stood in the doorway, a look of absolute fury on her face and a gun pointed at him. Even as he saw her, she fired.

Agony erupted under his ribcage, a white-hot spear of pain through his right side. He gritted his teeth, pushing it aside for now; it wasn't immediately fatal, and right now he had to get himself and Olivia out of here. Olivia had rushed Sandra almost at the same instant the woman had fired, and though weak and uncoordinated from the drugs, she was maintaining a surprisingly firm grip on the gun Sandra held, keeping it pointed away from herself and Clayton.

Sandra cursed in Spanish and kicked Olivia hard between her legs. If Clayton hadn't been aware before of how much damage Olivia had taken there during their imprisonment, he knew now as Olivia crumpled to a fetal position on the floor, arms coming up to cradle the agony in her lower belly, sobbing with pain even as fresh seeping blood stained her torn pants. Sandra aimed the gun at Olivia. "Bitch." She hissed. "I don't care if Cesar wants you alive, you're dead now…"

And that was when Clayton tackled her.

The pain in his side was almost overwhelming, and he could feel his consciousness slipping away. He fought it, narrowing his focus from the entire room to just one person; he could feel blood spreading over his side from the wound, knew distantly that the bullet had probably nicked a vein, knew that if he passed out now they would probably find him and Liv, finish them both off. Damn it, if I'm going to die, I'm taking this twisted, sadistic little bitch with me!

His rush, completely unexpected, took her by surprise and the bullet meant to kill Olivia went wide, embedding itself somewhere in the crown moldings in the corner of the room close to the fireplace. Clayton ignored it, his training taking over in the form of instructions from not only his first drill instructor in the Army all those years ago, but also Scarlett and Snake Eyes as they drilled the new recruits in hand-to-hand. Identify the hand holding the weapon. Keep it pointed away from you and any other possible targets in the vicinity. If possible, take it away from your target; they can't use it if you have it. If you are the only one with a weapon that will give you the upper hand.

Sandra had no upper body strength. It was ridiculously easy to yank the gun from her fingers even as his punch connected with her lower jaw, and there was a lot of force behind it. All of Clayton's rage and frustration and icy fury went into the punch that snapped her head backward on her neck and cracked her head against the floor.

She lay on the floor, crying dazedly as she felt her jaw, which had plainly been broken. Hawk felt a sense of vicious satisfaction, raised the gun, pointed it at her. She looked at him through eyes glazed with tears, and spat as best she could through her broken jaw, "You're American military. You can't kill an unarmed woman."

He hesitated. It went against everything he'd been taught. Battle is not a place to exercise a personal vendetta. Never hit an enemy when they're down. Always give your opponent a chance to surrender where possible. And, even more deeply ingrained, the injunction to never hit a woman.

And then Olivia gave a tiny groan, and his eyes flicked to the side, and a much deeper, more primal directive ran through his mind. Protect those weaker than myself. And, unbidden, his mind flashed back to their imprisonment. Olivia strapped to a chair, electrocuted. Olivia, lying on a table screaming as electrified probes entered and tortured the most sensitive parts of her body. Olivia, crying and begging as the hallucinogenic drugs tore her mind apart, exposed her worst nightmares and darkest private insecurities. Olivia, twisting and bleeding under him as they forced him into her. He didn't have time right now for this; he had to get Olivia out, now.

The bullet tore into Sandra's knee, perfectly placed for a crippling shot. From the surprise on her face as she screamed and then passed out, she apparently hadn't expected he would violate his military training and actually shoot her; but even deeper than the training was the need to protect someone weaker than himself, and right now that was Olivia…

He dropped to his knees beside her where she'd crumpled, noted with dismay not only the spreading blood staining the cloth between her legs and the pain she was experiencing in her lower belly but also now the way her hands were suddenly shaking. Jesus fucking Christ. Withdrawal. She doesn't need this, damn it! He didn't allow his voice to display any of the anger he was feeling as he said, "Come on, Liv. We gotta go."

Her eyes seemed to have trouble focusing, and her hands and legs were shaking so much he practically had to carry her. Shit. This was going to make this whole thing harder; but they had to move, now, and fast, because God only knew when Velez and some of his muscle would show up, and he was starting to feel the effects of blood loss from the bullet wound in his side. He had to get them both out of here and somewhere safe, fast, before her withdrawal really hit.

It was a matter of moments to get the door open and Olivia outside. The rain seemed to revive her a little, and she turned her face upward, mouth open, trying to drink the rain. Thirst. Another sign of withdrawal. Not that he wasn't thirsty himself; during their imprisonment they'd been given only the minimum of food and water necessary to keep them alive, and he knew it was telling on his strength right now. He steeled himself, telling himself there would be time for that later, and checked their surroundings praying for a means of transportation.

And God was apparently listening to his prayers because there was a black jeep parked on a small paved area to one side of the palatial villa.

Author's Note: And here ends the third part of 'Special Missions' The fourth part is titled Endgame, and the first two chapters will go up concurrently to this one, so look for it! And thanks for sticking with me for ride!