"Darcy's dead by the way in case you're wondering. I tipped over the sump barrels and set them alight in the warehouse. Cornered the others behind the flames and allowed you a nice easy arrest. Well except for Darcy. Last thing I saw of that cruel bastard was him scrabbling at the grate in the floor while his clothes were alight, screaming about the bullets I put into him. I believe you will find him as a crispy critter somewhere underneath the warehouse."

Darcy groaned and tried to reorient himself in the darkness. He was wet and pain seemed to be the only thing he could concentrate on. Overwhelming pain that throbbed and shrieked and seemed to center on his right shoulder. He tried to roll over and found that his arms seemed to resist his strict instruction. Was he in a ship? Why was everything moving? No the world wasn't moving, he was. He was trembling. Why was he trembling?

Screaming. Flames. Gunfire. That BITCH!

Suddenly everything became clear. Gabriel had betrayed them, freeing the two federal agents. There had been a firefight and she had shot him. She had stood there with that feral gleam in her eye and almost gleefully tried to end his life. He had frantically tried to escape down through a grate in the floor. He realized what the wetness he was lying in was. Water run off and probably judging by the smell other less desirable things. Still at least his luck had held and it had been enough to put out the flames but not enough to drown him while he lay unconscious.

How long was he out? Not long judging by the scraping and yelling noises somewhere above and to the right of him. The last thing he had seen of the others, they had been cornered behind the fierce flames in the corner of the warehouse. He couldn't count on them for help then. In fact by now they were probably under arrest and headed for a long stretch if the agents had managed to raise the alarm. He peered through the darkness to see a patch of light at the gratings mouth, several feet beyond him. He needed to get out of here. Every moment wasted meant more blood lost and less chance of escape.

With another groan and a flare of anger at the woman who put him there, Darcy grit his teeth and rolled over onto his front and began to slowly drag himself further down the rough dank wet tunnel. It had to lead somewhere didn't it?

Pain overwhelmed him and he hung his head, shaking with exhaustion. No! There was no way he was going to give her the satisfaction of dying. No way. Besides he wasn't going to have his last moments in some stink filled sewer to die among the diseased and scorned.

He was going to lie low, get patched up and cleansed of this disgusting filth and then he was going make sure she was ripped apart just like he had been. Trapped like a rat and screaming in pain and terror.

Darcy grinned in the shadows and started to drag himself further down the tunnel, ignoring the pain and the spots dancing in his vision.

Yes. He would entertain himself with how many horrible ways she could die by his hand.

And while he was at it he would enjoy torturing that agent she seemed to have a soft spot for. Yes. He could see his terrified face as he smashed the glass bottle and dug it into his tender pale flesh as he tried to escape from the chair he was tied to.

McGee. NCIS Special Agent McGee.

Perhaps he would torture him first, slowly and then kill her? Make her watch as his blood drained away and his struggles finally stilled until at last his eyes clouded over.

Darcy grinned through the pain and spat out the blood in his mouth, while he dragged himself ever further down the torturous tunnel.

Was that another patch of light down there? Faint but growing in brightness?

The others had been watching from the nearby safe house, waiting for the deal to go through and the transfer to be made. His paranoia didn't seem so ridiculous now. They would already know that everything had gone south and they would be counting the bodies, counting the arrests, attempting a clean up. They would come for him. He just had to get out.

Perhaps he should poison the young agent? Make her watch as he twitched and screamed. Rat poison. Perfect. Such delicious irony.

Darcy almost would have laughed if he had been able to spare the energy. Instead he doggedly ignored the pain, the filth and the blood and dragged himself another arms length closer to the light that represented his freedom.