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“Ok, this is embarrassing,” Coulson noted as he wriggled his hands in the tight bonds, testing the restraints. “We just got overpowered by a group of little skinheads.”
Ward grunted from where he was bound to a chair next to him. “I think we underestimated them, sir,” he divulged.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Skye scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “Though, in our defence, there was no way we could’ve known they’d have smoke grenades.”
Fitz groaned in pain as he adjusted his position, blinking his reddened eyes. “That wasn’t smoke, that was pepper spray or something,” he complained. “I didn’t see anything.”
May, who was bound a lot more tightly than the rest of them - probably the result of her killing three of her assailants before finally getting subdued by a group of six with military grade tasers - grunted. “They were ordinary smoke screen grenades,” she corrected the engineer, slight bitterness in her voice. Coulson didn’t know if she was angry at herself for getting overpowered or at him for relying on bad intel.
“Didn’t feel like it,” grumbled Fitz.
Before anyone could say anything else, their captors returned to the room. “I see you’ve composed yourselves,” commented one of them in a ridiculously fake German accent.
“Na ja, wir haben uns schon erholt,” Coulson confirmed.
The thug gaped at him. “What?”
“Yeah, I thought so,” Phil muttered under his breath.
The skinhead recovered quickly. “Whatever, man,” he dismissed him in a drawling American accent that seemed to come a lot more naturally to him. “I wanna know what you are doing here.”
Coulson raised an eyebrow. “You tied us to chairs and locked us up; what do you think we’re doing here?”
The skinhead stomped over to him, slapping him across the face. “This is not a comedy routine,” he sneered. “Just answer the question.”
Having barely winced at the weak slap, Phil shrugged as best as he could under the circumstances. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that if you want to make me talk. I’ve been trained to withstand a lot more severe kinds of torture than the equivalent of my mother’s slap across the wrist.”
The guy slapped him a lot harder this time, but before he could really get into it, one of his mates stopped him. “Wait, Maze,” he said, “let’s work on one of the girls instead - they’ll be easier to break.”
Maze - whatever kind of name that was - turned to his companion. “Right,” he shrugged, “you’re the boss. Which one do you think then?”
The apparent boss walked over to the still fuming Melinda, smirking at her. “I think this one deserves it the most,” he commented, and Phil couldn’t help the jolt his heart made. “I’d love to see her plead for me to stop.”
May gave the guy a bored look. “In your dreams,” she muttered quietly.
The thug backhanded her across the face, causing Coulson to wince in sympathy, while May just glared at their captor.
Maze chuckled. “Oh, she’s feisty. I like that. After she gives us what we want, we might even have a bit of fun, if you know what I mean.”
Phil’s control snapped. “Hey! Stay away from her,” he called out, trying not to sound desperate. “You saw what she did to your pals; do you really want to get her any more angry?”
Maze, however, was just amused by his attempt to shift their attention. “What’s wrong, grandpa?” he asked mockingly. “She your girl?”
Their boss laughed - a genuine belly laughter that sent chills down Phil’s spine. “You kidding? The chick is way out of his league, Maze.” He shook his head in amusement. “Now, come on, let’s go and get Deek.”
The two skinheads then left, both of them clearly in a good mood, and the room fell into an uneasy silence.
Skye was the first to break it with a hesitant question, “So who do we think this Deek is?”
Ward shrugged, twisting his arms in the ropes that bound him. “Probably their go-to guy for torture,” he explained offhandedly. Then turned to May, “Can you get out of these ropes? Mine are too tight.”
The female specialist threw him a murderous look, glancing pointedly at the way she was bound - her legs, arms, and torso all wrapped in several layers of thick rope, while her hands had also been secured with zip ties.
Coulson cursed under his breath. “God, this is like Zhengzhou all over again.”
Melinda turned her glare to him. “I wasn’t tortured in Zhengzhou,” she denied.
Phil gaped at her. “What? You were so tortured!”
“No,” she insisted with a slight tilt of her head. “They dripped water on my head.”
Coulson nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know. Chinese water torture - still a torture.”
She scoffed. “Please. I basically just took a nap, while you stressed in a corner.”
Phil chuckled weakly. “Yeah,” he admitted. Then, after a beat of silence, he continued, “I don’t like this. They seemed awfully excited at the idea of torture for a couple of two-bit thugs.”
May looked him in the eye from all the way across the room. “I can take it, Phil,” she assured him quietly.
“I know,” he said with a slight wince. “I don’t know if I can, though.”
Fitz, who was sitting closest to the door, interrupted their chat by hissing, “They’re coming back!”
A couple moments later, the two skinheads returned, a burly, tattooed dude in their wake. Phil automatically assessed him as the most dangerous of the three.
“Which one then?” the newcomer asked, a sadistic glint in his eye.
Maze pointed at May. “The Chink,” he informed him, before smirking. “You don’t have to go easy on her - she killed Marcus and the rest.”
Deek - because that’s who the tattooed man had to be - walked over to the Chinese woman. “This little thing?” he questioned with a skeptical look on his wide face.
Their boss shrugged nonchalantly, as if the death of three of his men didn’t really bother him all that much. “Just make her feel it,” he ordered before motioning for Maze to follow him back out. The team was left in the room with Deek, who sized them all up like some kind of Disney villain.
“So,” the man began in a voice that reminded Coulson of a television host. “There’s a method to my work,” he informed them, picking up a wooden plank that had been leaned against the wall in a corner of the room. “First a bit of tenderising.”
Phil gulped. God, he hated this.
Deek slowly walked over to May, who tensed slightly in preparation for what was about to come, then swung.
“No!” Skye screamed as the wood hit its target in Melinda’s abdomen, causing the woman to grunt quietly.
Another hit, another grunt, and another scream. Phil noticed Ward pulling at his ties in an effort to free himself.
The wood hit May across her shins, and Skye started crying. “Stop!” the girl begged.
Deek swung again, a lot harder than the first three times, hitting the female specialist’s chest. The wood splintered, cracking in the middle, as Melinda gasped for breath.
Dropping the destroyed plank to the floor, Deek sighed. “Well, that was boring. I think it’s time to step it up a bit.” He leaned closer to May - though not close enough for her to be able to headbutt him, Coulson noticed - and asked, “Knife or scissors?”
May raised her gaze from the floor - most likely running imaginary tai-chi routines in her head - and looked Deek dead in the eye. “Scissors,” she told him.
Coulson stared. What the hell? Why would she pick the blunter and messier of the two?
Deek seemed to be equally surprised. “Fine with me,” he finally said with a slight shrug. “You get scissors.”
The thug walked over to a chipped work desk that stood near the entrance, picking up a pair of short, steel scissors. Then he turned to a still bawling Skye. “Arm or leg?” he asked her.
The young hacker stared at their captor. “What?” she asked in a small voice.
“Choose,” Deek instructed her. “I either stab her in the arm or in the leg.”
“Neither!” Skye immediately shouted.
Deek shook his head. “Well, that won’t do,” he smirked. “If you don’t choose, I’ll stab her in the chest.”
Skye looked around at the rest of the team, clearly tormented by the choice she had been given. When her eyes met his, Phil mouthed ‘arm’ at her, figuring that a wound in her arm would be easier on Melinda than one in the leg.
Skye threw an apologetic look the Chinese woman’s way, before saying quietly, “The arm.”
“The arm it is,” the skinhead accepted her decision, wasting no time in burying his weapon of choice in May’s left bicep. She hissed in pain, but that was all the reaction she allowed herself.
Coulson watched as bright red blood pooled around the metal of the shears, staining Melinda’s black SHIELD uniform. His heart was beating wildly, and he hated how useless and helpless he felt. She didn’t deserve this and yet, somehow, she was always the one to get the worst of it.
Deek slid the blade out of the specialist’s arm, walking around her slowly and then promptly stabbing the scissors into her right thigh.
As blood once again pooled around the wound, Fitz threw up. Ward twisted his hands with a renewed intensity, though he didn’t seem to be making much headway. Skye was crying again, big crocodile tears running down her face, and Simmons had her eyes tightly closed, lips pressed together as she tried to ignore everything that was happening.
Leaving the scissors where they were, Deek returned to the table. “Car battery or nails?” he asked without turning around.
Everyone was quiet.
“I asked,” the skinhead said insistently, “if I should use the car battery or stick some nails underneath her, well, nails.”
Having an, in his opinion, absolutely rational fear of anything sharp underneath his nails and feeling pretty sure he’d be the one to throw up next if that happened, Coulson spoke up. “The car battery,” he said, giving his best friend an apologetic look.
May lifted one side of her mouth in a weak half-smile as Deek picked up the heavy box from his trusty worktable. He set it down on the floor next to her, connecting the appropriate wires to the correct places. Then, pressing one wire to Melinda’s hand, he sneered. “Let’s hope there’s not too much juice in this thing,” he told her. “I’d hate to kill you so soon.”
The Chinese specialist gave him an unimpressed look, and Phil wanted to laugh hysterically.
Deek pressed the other wire briefly to an exposed part of Melinda’s chest, right above her collar bone, causing her to jolt violently.
Ward writhed in his seat, starting to look desperate.
“That wasn’t too bad,” the thug muttered, electrocuting his victim again.
Another jolt of May’s body, and a strained gasp was forced out of her chest. Coulson could see her breathing more heavily as the spasming of her muscles forced more blood out of her wounds.
The third time the second wire touched bare skin, it stayed there for a long time, causing the tortured woman to spasm uncontrollably. They all watched as sweat appeared at her hairline, arms and legs flailing as much as the ropes allowed.
Deek didn’t let up until an involuntary scream forced its way out of Melinda’s throat, raspy and painful.
Skye sobbed, crying a weak, “No!” as Fitz retched again. Coulson made a mental note to talk to him after they got out of this - the scientist might even profit from talking to a SHIELD psychologist.
Ward seemed to be finally gaining some give in his restrains, and Phil prepared himself for the fight that would follow.
The thug waited for May to catch her breath before connecting the circuit again. The specialist’s eyes almost rolled back into her head, but she managed to stay conscious in the end through sheer force of will. Another scream ripped through her vocal cords as blood dripped from her open wounds onto the floor.
Skye screamed too, pleading again, “Please, stop it! You’re not even asking her anything!”
Coulson wanted to kill someone.
When Deek let up again, May was visibly weakened. Sweat ran down her face and into the cleavage of her shirt as she panted harshly, small tremors running through her. She mumbled something.
“What?” the skinhead asked, leaning closer.
She said something again, weak and quiet.
Deek leaned even closer. “Speak up, woman,” he told her harshly.
May looked up and Phil felt a thrill of excitement run up his spine. There was determination in the set of her mouth and murder in her eyes - something was brewing. “I said,” she drawled through clenched teeth, “that we were done here.” And with those words, she swung her surprisingly free arms in front of her, wrapping them behind Deek’s neck. Coulson couldn’t see what exactly she did, but the man didn’t make a sound as his body gave up on him and dropped to the floor.
In Melinda’s right hand was a pair of bloodied scissors, her middle and ring finger threaded through the handles. Glancing at her thigh in surprise, he realised she had somehow pulled the blades out of her leg while she was being electrocuted and then stuck them into the skinhead’s spinal cord. Impressive.
Two seconds later, Ward finally freed himself. “Seriously?” he asked the other specialist as he ran over to her. “You couldn’t have waited a couple more seconds?”
May snorted. “Just untie me,” she told him.
Ward hesitated briefly, before carefully taking the scissors out of Melinda’s clenched hand. “I’ll cut you free,” he assured her quietly, voice a little too intimate for Coulson’s liking.
Once both specialists were free, they quickly untied the rest of the team. “We don’t have much time,” Ward announced. “And there are still at least ten men out there.”
“Maybe more,” Coulson guessed. “Deek wasn’t here before; he might’ve brought more people with him.”
Fitz, who was being supported by Simmons as his legs failed to support him, snorted weakly. “Great, just what we need.”
“We won’t get overpowered this time,” Phil promised the engineer. “We’re ready for them now.”
Skye furrowed her brows. “Yeah, but May is injured. I’m surprised she can stand.”
Coulson turned to his best friend, assessing her injuries. “Anything broken?” he questioned her.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, which - as Phil noticed - wasn’t a no.
Ward squeezed the female specialist’s shoulder briefly, before turning to Coulson. “I suggest we grab some stuff from that desk over there.”
Skye showed him the hammer she had picked up. “Already did.”
Simmons cleared her throat, speaking for the first time since they got captured, “I think Fitz and I better stay here. We’re both unsteady on our feet, and I don’t think we’d be much help at all.”
Ward nodded in agreement but looked to Coulson for the final decision.
Phil confirmed, “That’s probably a good idea.”
“We have surprise on our side,” May commented, voice deep. “We should get a move on if we want it to stay that way.”
“Agreed,” Coulson said with a nod. “Let’s go then.”
In the end, it wasn’t that difficult to escape - unleashing a deadly Agent Ward and a pissed off May on a group of unsuspecting thugs gave them a serious advantage. Coulson and Skye also managed to hold their own - though, admittedly, Coulson more than Skye as the girl was still a bit too green for actual combat.
“So,” Coulson said later that day, once the whole team was safe aboard the Bus and Melinda was patched up, “not really like Zhengzhou after all?”
May looked at him tiredly. “I’m fine, Coulson.”
He tilted his head, unimpressed with her nonchalance. “You have three cracked ribs, two pretty deep stab wounds, and electric burns on your chest and hand.” he recounted Simmons’ findings. “You’re most definitely not fine.”
She shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
“I know,” he acknowledged quietly. “Forgive me if it doesn’t make me feel any better.”
May was silent.
“So, uh,” he began again, slightly nervous. “What was that with Ward before?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, not looking at him.
Phil shook his head. “Nothing.” It was probably better he didn’t know. If anything was going on, she’d tell him in her own time, and he trusted her enough not to let anything affect their job. He was determined not to let anything bother him - after all, ‘the chick was way out of his league’ anyway.
“I’ll let you rest,” he told her, pulling himself together and patting her lightly on the shoulder. “I have some, uh, paperwork to do.”
She lifted the side of her mouth in a half-smile.