Fic: Resistance

[mjartrod]

CHAPTER 12 Without preamble, Matt and Dom’s captors freed their wrists and tossed the two trapped musicians their clothes, ordering them to get dressed. After making sure none of their belongings were left in the flat, the implacable criminals escorted both Englishmen outside, the latter very aware how the guns in their opponents’ pockets were aimed in their direction and that they would shoot without hesitation at any sign of an escape attempt. Shoved into a van with tinted windows, they were squashed between Zhang’s men, who sat near each of the doors, while Zhang himself chose the front seat beside the driver. Thigh pressed against Dom’s, Matt ventured a sideways glance at his friend. Pasty-skinned and dark eyed with weariness, the drummer didn’t return the look, his hands clasped together in his lap; he could conceal it well from strangers, but after years of touring and pre-gig antics, Matt could spot a nervy Dom with his eyes closed. He was a mess of nerves himself. His body was still sore and achy from the shock and the brutal violence it had been subjected to earlier, but that wasn’t the worst part. Yes, he had wanted badly to find Zhang, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had no idea how they were going to get out of this situation. And sadly, the entrepreneur had been right; they had gained more time, but for what exactly, he wasn’t sure. The van was already traversing the relatively deserted roads of Hong Kong when Zhang addressed his men in the back, a gesture accompanying the abrupt instruction in Cantonese, after which the musicians were blindfolded with rough cloth. Matt couldn’t tell how long the ride took but it felt like an eternity, not being able to see only adding to his anxious state. Eventually they stopped and once their wrists were securely fastened behind their backs once more, they were pulled out of the vehicle and into the cold air of the February night. Matt inhaled, the salty, distinctive smell of seawater and fish invading his senses, and he got the impression they were close to the harbour, maybe at some dockside warehouse. They had no choice but to let themselves be steered somewhere indoors, trying hard not to trip, the clang of metal doors, or possibly gates, sliding shut following behind them. After climbing several flights of stairs as carefully as possible so as not to fall, which drew a few indecipherable grumbles from their escorts, they were made to stop. They didn’t have to wait for long to see what would happen next. Matt was shoved roughly in the back and he stumbled forward clumsily, losing his balance and landing on his knees on the hard floor. Barely avoiding falling flat on his face, he was rearranging himself to sit when another body slumped heavily on top of him with a grunt; despite the pain in his wrenched arm and shoulder, crushed underneath Dom’s weight, Matt's face heated with rage at the sound of derisive laughter coming from the doorway. The drummer rolled off him while the door, rusty metal by the sound of it, was locked, but Matt remained curled on his knees for a moment, catching his breath, all senses at maximum alert. The air was close and stuffy and he couldn’t hear anything beyond the thumping of his own heart in his ears. It seemed as though they’d been left alone. When he finally wriggled into a seated position, his leg bumped against the blond. “Dom,” he called. “Dom, we’re alone.” “Yeah.” His voice was thick and constricted. “I think so.” The blindfold was driving Matt mental. He inched closer to Dom and, leaning against his back, he lowered his head until he found his bound hands. “Take this thing off my eyes, just pull.” There was no response, despite Matt butting his face against his hands in impatience; Dom was frozen, as if he hadn’t heard him at all. But then his fingers gradually unfurled and reached out, pulling the material down over Matt’s nose. Matt shook his head, the strip of fabric falling around his neck, and he blinked, adjusting to the light, at last able to survey where they were being confined. It was a very small space, as he’d suspected, empty, dusty and also windowless. A weak bulb hung from the ceiling on a cable provided the only source of light. When the black haired man looked at his static companion again, he noticed Dom’s Adam’s apple bobbing, his teeth gritted and his jaw tight. “Dom, come on,” he half-pleaded. “Move, lower your head so I can take that thing off you.” Nodding haltingly, he leaned over somewhat awkwardly, until Matt shifted himself so he could get a hold of the blindfold. He pulled it up and over his friend’s head and dropped it on the floor. They could now see each other without restriction, but Dom avoided the blue eyes, swallowing thickly, and Matt’s heart lurched. Dom was scared shitless. So very different from the thrillingly confident and domineering man that had driven him to insane levels of pleasure only a few hours earlier... No, he couldn’t think of that now, he had to focus. “Dom,” he said. “Breathe, man.” Gazing upwards and shaking his head a couple of times as he rolled his shoulders, the drummer tried to loosen up, reign in his fear. When he faced his friend, the singer nodded at him in silent question; he nodded definitively once in return. “They need someone to take all the blame for what they did,” Dom said slowly after a long exhale, as if trying to force his brain to function again. “So there’s no point in hurting us, we just have to... we just need to cooperate and... they need us, to take the blame.” Matt didn’t have the heart to remind him that if Zhang felt threatened by them in any way, he might well conclude that getting rid of them was the best solution. He clenched his fists; they couldn’t let themselves freeze from panic or despair, they had to keep fighting. They’d come this far, they would keep going somehow and survive this. “We’re gonna have to improvise, right? Not sure what they want from -” Matt fell quiet upon hearing a noise outside. The door was unlocked and swung wide. Their two kidnappers had returned, and the captive men tensed, leaning towards each other unconsciously for protection. And then one of the two Asian gorillas was stepping inside, easily pulling Dom to his feet by one arm. The friends exchanged a distressed look as Dom was led out of the room, but no move was made to take Matt as well. Were they splitting them...? “Wait, wait...” No, no, no, not this. Not Dom. Matt shook his head frantically and rushed to stand. However, he was sent back onto his arse with a simple push to the chest. “No, wait! He doesn’t have anything to do with this! Where are you taking him?” Crawling onto his knees and then jumping up again, Matt couldn't do anything to prevent the door from slamming shut in front of his eyes, the last thing he saw Dom’s big grey eyes staring bleakly at him over his shoulder as he was led away. It felt like the tightness in Matt’s chest was preventing him from breathing. “You cunting bastards, come the fuck back here!” His voice didn’t even reverberate in the small room. Sinking to his knees in utter devastation, Matt ended up dropping to the floor in a defeated heap, a deep, chilling silence settling over him. He couldn't think, he couldn't calm down, he felt completely powerless and without a sliver of control over a single thing in his life. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, cheek resting against the grubby floorboards. Why had he let Dom join him in that taxi at the airport? Why hadn’t he left Michelle’s flat earlier? What would he do with himself if something terrible happened to Dom? Because of him? For the first time since this hell had begun, Matt wished he could just hide away and sob himself to sleep. Until everything was right with the world again. *** Chris was helping Ava-Jo with her homework in the kitchen while Kelly cooked dinner, when his mobile rang. He looked at the device warily. Anonymous caller. It seemed like every phone call, every text message, every communication from the outside world he had received since arriving back in England had brought nothing but bad news. The only exception having occurred that day, when he’d been woken very early, at dawn, by a new tweet from Chessboard_pawn. It had been a shot in the dark, to use Muse’s Twitter to try and get in contact with his missing band mates. Who knew where they were and what condition they were in, once it had become apparent that the plan of heading for the embassy had been ditched; the authorities were certainly clueless. But he realised it had been worth it the moment Alfie ran to tell him about a weird tweet he’d gotten - just like Chris had asked his whole family to do if they came across something out of the ordinary. He had spoken with Dom only a few hours ago but the relief he had felt at learning they were both physically unharmed was relative, considering the direness of the situation they found themselves in. Things were looking pretty grim overall and although they seemed to have found a lead to pursue, the reaction of the lawyers had been sceptical, to say the least. It would be difficult to investigate Zhang and they seemed more willing to check the surveillance cameras at the hotel in Melbourne if possible, claiming it could bring more concrete results, some evidence that could be used in their defence. They had also nagged him incessantly, demanding to know the source of this new information and whether he'd been in contact with his band mates. But he’d stood firm and refused to answer. Chris wished dearly that he could remember anything at all during the Big Day Out tour in Australia that had struck him as odd or suspicious, something that might have forewarned them of the tragic events currently taking place if only they’d been paying attention. But Kelly had been with him the whole time, the relaxed schedule and multiple days off making it feel like a vacation for the couple, and as a result he’d been more distracted than usual. He’d hardly even seen his band mates or the crew off stage, leaving Matt and Dom to their regular shenanigans, guessing the two were being slippery fuckers and hanging out with whoever, doing whatever, as per usual. And now everything had turned to shit. He selfishly wished that they had never fled the airport that afternoon; that they had waited for the police, answered all the questions truthfully and then let the lawyers do their job. Sure, there was a small possibility that Matt would have had to wait in prison until he was no longer a suspect, but it hadn’t been definite. Anything but this constant and never-ending worry that they were out there unprotected and vulnerable to the depredations of dangerous criminals who could, who knew, be intent on harming them. There had to be a safer way to prove Matt’s innocence. And now, as he stared at his ringing mobile phone, Kelly gazing at him with her lips pursed in question, he once more had a gut feeling that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear. Walking into the living room as he picked up the call, knowing there would be no little ears eavesdropping, he had no difficulty recognising the voice at the other end of the line. They’d spoken several times since he returned from Hong Kong, of course, and to be perfectly honest, Chris much preferred her to her superior, that stuck-up bloke that he’d met at Heathrow on his arrival; she seemed far more understanding and infinitely less arrogant. His jaw dropped as cold facts were relayed to him, the nervousness and discomfort of the woman noticeable. At first Chris didn’t know what to think. “You’re telling me all these things I’m not supposed to know... and yet I’m pretty damn sure all my phones are fucking tapped. Illegally, too. What the hell is this, some trick?” “It’s not a ruse, but if you don’t believe me, I can't do anything about that. I do know that no one will know this conversation took place unless you reveal it.” After that, Chris was livid. And he exploded. For a few moments, he forgot how she had just shared confidential information with him; how she was risking her own job; how none of it was her fault. His angrily raised voice carried back to the kitchen and soon Kelly was standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised. When Chris finally disconnected, after expressing his gratitude for her help and an apology for his rudeness, but also having got a lot off his chest, he threw the mobile onto the couch and raked his hands through his hair. Would he be able to warn his two oblivious friends, lost somewhere in Hong Kong, in time? What if it was too late? Sensing his wife’s concerned eyes on him, he turned to her. “Fucking bastards. Disgusting motherfuckers,” he spat. “They’ve been used like puppets, Kelly. We’ve been used all along!” *** Matt couldn’t tell how long he had been laying there when he heard signs of life from the other side of the locked door. He sat up slowly; his face was numb, his hands were numb, he had been numb. But his heart was still beating, and fast, thunderously loud in the cramped space. Again, the door opened and he inhaled sharply at the sight of the familiar slim frame behind it. Dom was sent flying to the floor beside him and for a moment Matt didn’t move; then he realised that neither had Dom. He scrambled in his direction, uncoordinated without the use of his arms, unable to touch him to check he was okay. “Dom... Dom!” The drummer responded by rolling onto his side, and Matt’s stalled heart restarted. Good God, he’d really thought he could have been dead. Dom’s hands were free but there was a thin line of blood trickling out of his nose and his grey eyes were glassy and fixed. “What the fuck did you do to him?!” Matt turned back to their captors, fuming, one of them already coming closer. “What the hell -“ He struggled when a large hand grabbed his shoulder to lift him off the floor. “Let go of me you fucker! What the fuck did you do to him?!” “Quiet!” The man’s beefy arm swung forward and the back of his hand slapped Matt harshly across the face. The blow left him momentarily dazed, his split lip from earlier beginning to bleed again, and he was caught unawares as an arm wrapped around his waist from behind, pulling him up and dragging him backwards as if he were no more than a disobedient child. He kicked and squirmed furiously, but it was like fighting with a bear. The man was twice his size and there was no overpowering him “I’m not going anywhere! What the hell did you do to him?! Fucking cunts!” Only succeeding in earning himself another whack to the head, Matt had no choice but to let himself be taken, the sight of Dom motionless on the floor as he was hauled away leaving him deranged with fury. Forced to walk several long corridors, turning left and right, his feet scuffed stubbornly until they reached their destination. It was a small medical ward, maybe a doctor’s office. There were several white cabinets filled with medical supplies, expensive looking electronic equipment, a couple of stretchers on wheels and, against one of the walls, two chairs, of the type you’d find at the dentist. Matt had always had an irrational hatred of dentists. There was a young guy sitting at a desk, typing away on his laptop, and in front of a pristine white counter running along the far wall stood a man in a lab coat and latex gloves, his back to the new arrivals. Matt gritted his teeth as one of the men released his wrists, untied the blindfold that had dropped around his neck and removed his coat, forcing him into one of the chairs. The person in the lab coat turned around, an old Asian man in glasses with a plastic smile and, behind him, Matt could now see several syringes and glass vials lined up methodically on the bench top. “Hello, Mr. Bellamy.” Matt wanted Zhang, not some shitty pseudo doctor. He had never been so enraged, as if all reason and sense had been thrown to the wind. “Where’s Zhang?” The man stared at him blankly. “I only talk to him.” “Tonight you will be talking to me. Mr. Zhang is not here.” “No shit.” The singer narrowed his eyes, a heavy hand on his shoulder forcing him to lean back in the chair again. “Where the fuck is he? It’s him I want to talk to.” The doctor seemed amused and turned to the counter again. “You are very restless, Mr. Bellamy.” He extracted the translucent liquid from one of the vials into a syringe while the lackey rolled one of Matt’s sleeves up, pinning his wrist down to the arm of the chair and leaving the luminously white skin of his inner elbow exposed and vulnerable. “But I have something to calm you down... to make you more cooperative and talkative. There are a few questions we want you to answer.” The pieces suddenly clicked together in Matt’s brain and he understood what had probably happened to Dom. Not that the knowledge was much consolation. “That’s sodium thiopental, isn’t it?” This time the old doctor didn’t seem quite so condescending and he stilled for a moment, observing Matt curiously. “Close. Sodium amytal.” Everything Matt had read or heard about MK Ultra, truth serums and narcoanalysis came back to him in a rush. About subjects questioned in a semi-conscious state, people sometimes driven to make false confessions under the effects of the powerful drugs injected into their systems. In most cases they wouldn’t even recall the experience. Matt was convinced now that this was why he and Dom had been brought here – Zhang wanted to know exactly what they both knew, to assess what threat they actually presented; perhaps to see how helpful they'd be in recovering the laptop, too. “I’m not telling you a fucking thing. It’s not gonna work, I’ll lie, you won’t make me say anything I don’t want to. Think I don’t know how my body reacts to drugs?” Matt sneered, all bravado. What if the corrupt businessman decided he and Dom were not worth the hassle and just had them killed? “Your friend already talked, and so will you. But since you seem so reluctant,” he tapped the needle to rid it of air bubbles and expelled a small amount of liquid, “maybe I'll administer you a higher dose to start with.” With his arm held down firmly by Zhang’s hired thug, ready to subdue him at the merest hint of struggle, Matt could do nothing to stop the needle from perforating his skin. The doctor was none too gentle, and he grimaced as the poison coursed through his veins. He flexed his arm uselessly as soon as his sentinel stepped away, the doctor watching him with a triumphant expression. Putting down the syringe and grabbing a blood pressure cuff off a shelf, he pulled a small stool over to sit next to Matt. “Now we check your vital signs before the next dose.” “Fuck. You.” Twisting in the chair, Matt stretched his leg out and kicked as hard as he could, striking the man’s knee with surprising strength. Howling in pain and staggering away holding his abused joint, the old doctor let one of his compatriots deal with Matt, the singer held down again and reprimanded with a punch to the side of his face; he scarcely felt it. The man in the lab coat looked incensed, still rubbing his leg, but he was soon retaking his seat and picking up the syringe again. “You will regret that later...” He was reaching for Matt's arm once more when the young guy at the laptop shouted something, his face a picture of alarm. All eyes were upon him and although Matt couldn't understand a word of the conversation, even through the foggy lethargy that was beginning to invade his mind the Englishman knew something was wrong. They turned collectively to Matt, their expressions unpleasant, and one of them took a small black device, no bigger than a TV remote, out of a cabinet. Matt tried to lean away when he realised they were heading for him with the thing, but there was nowhere to go. The gadget was swept up and down his body several times, like a metal detector, but nothing happened. And then someone applied the same procedure to his black coat. It beeped. Matt’s head buzzed as he watched them fumbling frantically with the piece of clothing, the beeping speeding up as they reached a certain spot on the collar. They prised something off the black wool, too small for Matt to be able to tell what it was, and they examined it for a moment before dropping it to the floor and stomping on it with their feet. All four men turned to him again and one of the enforcers shook him roughly by his shoulders, eyes menacing. “Who is tracking you?” Matt’s jaw dropped. Tracking him? As in, someone following him... using a detection device? But... how? “Did police in airport put transmitter on you? Huh?” Each question was punctuated with a slap to the side of Matt’s head, the singer unable to react as he found himself momentarily shocked into immobility by the news. “Do you contact them?” The criminal was pulling out a gun, his counterpart approaching with bared teeth. “Who put transmitter on you?!” Matt shook his head weakly, flinching when he heard clattering coming from somewhere outside the room. All of a sudden there was a man at the door shouting instructions and, without warning, a massive blast boomed on one of the floors below. Chaos ensued. The two men who had taken Matt and Dom from Michelle’s flat were running into the hall with their guns drawn; the doctor cowering under the desk. A flurry of gunshots rang out somewhere in the building and Matt recoiled in terror, flinging his arms protectively over his head. The guy who had been at the laptop was nowhere to be seen. Matt sat up slowly and carefully once the shooting ceased and ominous silence settled in. The door was wide open and he was almost alone. If he was going to escape and find Dom, it had to be now.

Comments

[muserocks1.livejournal.com]

Gah after last night, starting up, I thought I had the wrong story or had skipped a chapter! Then I realized what had happened after the last chapter and went all NOOOOOOOOO!!!

AND HOW DID THOSE MEN KNEW?! I can't believe Michelle would've talked... Then again, it's easy to be spotted, could've been anyone.

Wtf wtf wtf wtf what did they tell Chris omg what was that, argh you're killing me woman :P

MK ULTRA!!!!!!!!! :O

OHFUCK you had me so bloody scared for a moment, I HATE torture, especially those "medical" instrument things and ugh, I hate it, so glad the cops somehow got that thing on that coat.

So it was the police using them to find that... dude with the weird name? I MUST KEEP READING.

[mjartrod]

Aaaaah, i cant believe you missed the chapter before, must have been so confusing to follow the events having missed the confrontation with the villain!

If you dont like torture, though, then that was the good thing because god, was i fucking mean to poor matt on chapter 11.. and i dont feel one bit guilty... :p i always love to be evil to him.... uuugh... (in case you havent spotted the pattern in my stories haha!)