Chapter Text
“OK, so here’s what we gotta do.” Josiah began the team's final briefing. A straightforward mission to DTI to check the power sources to the shield generators. A small team with Josiah as the lead, Micah as second, chosen for their technical aptitude and Micah not sharing his relief that he didn’t have to lead. He’d be the first to admit, at least in his own head, he wasn’t half the engineer Josiah was. He could tinker and kludge, quite well these days, but actual, proper, withstand the test of time, up to code repairs? Not his area.
“Shiloh and Judah will take the ones inside the DTI Campus, while me, Micah and Michelle check the ones surrounding the Campus. We’ll meet back here when we’re done.”
Micah headed to the exit with Josiah and Michelle as Shiloh and Judah headed inwards. He heard a faint exclamation of joy from probably Brooke just as they closed the door behind them. Hopefully she didn’t try to hug his sister, Shiloh had recently perfected her judo throws to (allegedly) deal with unexpected embraces but had been gleefully using it on all her brothers at the slightest provocation. He still had a bruise on his shoulder from the last time she found an excuse.
Josiah turned to him and Michelle. “I’ll take one on the far side.” They both nodded and Josiah took off at a jog.
“I’ll take this one, you head that way?” He waved a hand in the directions of the other two outdoor power panels. Michelle gave him a nod and that little smile that looked so good and so right on her face before she headed off down the other path.
The path wound past a series of miniature themed gardens all set up for photo shoots. The gardener here was clearly fond of roses, there had been at least four different locations focused on them.
“It should be around here somewhere.” He spoke to himself as he rejoined a main pathway before turning into the walled courtyard that housed the power panel. “Oh, there it is!”
Micah hurried over and tapped at the control screen, flicking the display through to the diagnostic readout. No warnings displayed, so he set down the hand scanner and pulled out his communicator to display the specifications Josiah had produced to check against.
The whir of a servo sounded, out of place and loud against the ground’s quiet. Micah twisted to look over his shoulder to see the first black robot step through the courtyard’s archwayed entrance, rifle charged and rising to aim straight at him. His communicator slipped from his fingers as he dodged sideways, the shot singing hair as it missed and impacted on the wall behind him.
Another robot entered through the arch as Micah looked for an exit between twisting out of the rifle blasts. There! A bench in front of a slightly lower section of wall. He could probably make the vault over from the bench and get out of this kill box. One breath later and he tried to break for it.
A robot jumped down from the wall he was aiming for, stepping forwards to catch him. A second robot stepped up and in less than time it took to blink he was held fast by a robot on each arm. He was dead. So dead. This couldn’t get any worse.
Then the robots at the archway parted and Mal’duum stepped forwards, smug smirk firmly in place.
“What the hell!” Micah shouted. This was worse. How was this asshole back?
Mal’duum glanced around, raised his blaster and shot at the arch keystone. There was a wisp of smoke and the telltale crackle of fried electronics. A camera? Not important right now.
“Hello green Nelson.” This, this, this couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name!
The blaster swung around, fired. For a heartbeat there was pain, then nothing.
Micah regained consciousness with the unfortunately familiar muscle cramps and twitches that always lingered from receiving several high powered stun blasts. He kept his eyes closed, tried to keep his breathing slow and smooth even as he twitched again, the spasm made worse by the unpleasant discovery he was thoroughly restrained. A chair, ropes, arms by his sides, wrists tied separately to the chair legs.
Micah opened his eyes.
The sight of Mal’duum lounged in another chair before him made him want to be unconscious again.
“Ah, my guest awakens!” The dramatic bastard proclaimed to the room. “The fifth Nelson brother.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “The useless one. After all, you’re not the brilliant researcher, the daring scout, the dashing strategist, the genius engineer or the empathic comic? And you’re certainly not the greatest agent of our time. Are you?”
Micah clenched his jaw shut as he was sure the hate was blazing through his eyes.
(had this would-be tyrant forgotten about Mary? kind, loving, supportive, and yes, ditzy Mary? Mary who if she were here would be taking this prick to pieces and had all the medical knowledge needed to make it hurt) the thought floated across his mind. He tried to concentrate on the here and now, think about that later.
Mal’duum surged to his feet, stepping forwards to loom over him. One gloved hand yanked his hair to force him to look up into those cold, cold eyes.
“I asked, are you?”
“No. No. I’m not.” He spat back. No, he wasn’t any of his siblings, the masters of their fields. He knew what he was, the jack of all trades, the one who could be what was needed even when he wasn’t the best or first choice. And that was important, vital even given how often on a perfectly planned and manned mission someone would be captured or there would be an extra critical task that needed someone with just that bit more than the basic knowledge. But that wasn’t what Mal’duum saw when he looked at him, was it? Wasn’t what he wanted to see. Didn’t want to see confidence or security that he’d painstakingly built within himself, that his family supported. So, he wouldn’t show this dick any of that, only the doubts he’d already conquered.
“No. You’re not.” The hand let go and Mal’duum flowed back into his seat. “The backup comic relief, the sidekick’s sidekick. Not the one I’d have chosen to take but alas fate laughs at the plans of men.”
“Shiloh.” Micah coughed, throat too dry to talk comfortably but this needed to be said, a truth that would reinforce what the posturing idiot already thought of him, and a reminder given since this simple fact seemed to have been forgotten. “Shiloh is going to make you wish you were dead.”
Mal’duum laughed, scornful. “Is that all you have? ‘My baby sister is going to get you’? Perhaps you’ve missed your calling as a court jester, as long as the orange one isn’t there to take the spotlight. No, no doubt she would try, but she’ll have to find me first and my new, ah, liege lord grants me more than enough protection for the likes of your little agency.” He rose to his feet and sauntered past his prisoner. He patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy the hospitality you deserve.”
Micah twisted to watch the smug git exit through the door behind him and the two robots that had apparently stood flanking the door followed their master out. A lock clicked and there was the scrape of a bolt being thrown.
Micah’s muscle spasmed again, he allowed a whimper of pain through his teeth as he sat alone in a windowless, locked room.
---
Micah closed his eyes and breathed, deeply, slowly, pretending he felt calm, not a boiling mixture of hate, panic, rage and fear. Those wouldn’t help him, not right now, maybe if he was in a position to get his hands around Mal’duum’s neck but that was the wrong side of a locked door and however many killer assassin robots his new boss had given him.
Calm.
He was calm.
He was calm.
He was calm.
Opening his eyes and looking around the room he took the time to take in the details he hadn’t had the focus to take in before. One door. No windows. Single bare lightbulb hanging above. Walls made, or covered with, rough wooden planks. Ceiling, same. Floor, some sort of concrete analogue, flat but not level. Wooden crates stacked in three of the corners.
Calm.
The chairs were plain wood, a few straight sections and planks, but shifting his weight from side to side he couldn't feel any looseness in the construction. The ropes looked like paracord, felt like some sort of nylon under his fingers and covered with fine dust. He twisted awkwardly to look at the ropes around each arm, wrapped around his suit jacket sleeves and tied in a knot at his wrist.
Wow. Was he really this lucky? Was Mal’duum that much of a beginner at tying people up? Surely this was a skill set aspiring evil advisors needed to know. He knew more than this and all his knowledge was from the escape and evasion courses Elijah kept insisting they practise. He'd been tied up by half mad animated children's toys who knew better than this.
The slack from letting the ropes crush his jacket was enough to manoeuvre the knot over his palm and then undo the half hitches!? He'd been tied up with a pair of half hitches! The only way this would have been easier is if Mal’duum had used a bow!
Calm.
Don’t get cocky. Mal’duum may be an idiot but he’s a dangerous idiot.
One hand free made freeing his second and untying the rest of the ropes simple. He stood and stretched, a little movement helped the after stun effects fade faster. He removed his dress shoes, while they were carefully constructed to be comfortable while still being stylish the soles were very noisy and he had to assume a KD 400 had been left on guard.
Plus his emergency miniature tool kit was hidden under the insoles.
He fondly remembered that one particular sleepless night when he'd distracted Josiah from another increasingly mad engineering binge trying to build something that could do something, anything with the tear that Mom was trapped behind. He'd needed the distraction from his own insomnia and worries so had coaxed his brother into designing a set of useful tools they could hide in their uniforms. A miniaturised communicator had been beyond them; he saw Josiah working on the idea from time to time when he needed a project to keep his brain distracted without deadlines; but they could miniaturise enough tools to McGuyver a solution together from whatever they could scrounge.
[“Shiloh won’t be happy about this. She says hiding things isn’t good diplomacy.”
“So you removed those field frequency picks from your jacket collar?”
“Noooo?”
“Plus, if you make her enough gadgets from James Bond she’ll forgive anything.”
“Oooh. That’s what we need: movie marathon for ideas.”]
He had his tools. Had he been left with anything else? His jacket pockets had been emptied, as had his pant pockets (ew. don’t think about it. don’t think about it), but not his waistcoat. The spare recorders he’d got into the habit of carrying for Shiloh were still there. The zip ties and wire sewn into the lining had also been missed by whoever had (no. don’t think about it. they hadn’t removed any of his clothes so clearly nothing had happened. clearly. definately).
Calm.
Now for materials. He crept as silently as he could to one of the piles of crates. The tops were askew, not nailed down. Micah searched as quickly as he could without making noise. All he could find without moving any crates were building materials, bags of nails, metal brackets and a few differently sized hammers. Those he considered for a moment, but no human had the strength to swing a hammer hard enough to even dent the plating on a KD 400 let alone do useful damage. Maybe if he could get within a swing of Mal'duum…
No.
Calm.
He made it to the second crate stack when the door slammed into the wall. He hadn’t heard the lock or the bolt! And he’d been listening, hyperaware of every noise he’d been making!
A robot stepped through the doorway, followed by Mal’duum.
“Tsk tsk tsk.” He shook his head with exaggerated disappointment. “You couldn’t even be a good prisoner and stay in your seat. I’ll just have to teach you some manners.” A single hand signal and the robot sprang into movement. KD 400’s didn’t move all that quickly, a mere average human running pace, but they didn’t need to.
The panic welled up and Micah froze for the heartbeats it took the robot to cross the room. In another heartbeat it had grabbed him; one hand around his throat, the other under his left arm. It had him lifted into the air. He was flying, barely getting his free arm up in time to shield his head before he crashed into the crates. He was lying in a heap of splintered wood and pain. There was a boot kicked into his abdomen, knocking all the breath from his lungs.
Micah shifted, trying to curl up to protect his insides, his head turning to see the sadistic glee on Mal’duum’s face as he drew his foot back for another kick. He barely drew another breath before he lost it to the boot hitting his ribs.
A cold, armoured hand grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him to the center of the room. He choked against the shirt and tie for a moment as the robot manhandled him prone, face down on the floor. The robot’s hand moved to push his head into the ground. His arms were yanked backwards as his jacket was pulled off, a pin prick of pain against the burning lack of air in his lungs and the bruising he could feel blooming all over his torso. His wrists were pushed into the small of his back and what felt like more of the cord wrapped around them, tight this time.
“I think that concludes our first lesson.”
Micah didn’t hear the whine of the stun blaster charging over his own gasping breaths, but he felt the shot impact for a moment before the black descended.