Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS Los Angeles or any of its characters. This goes for all the chapters

Prologue

The ten agents all lay slumped on the floor, drugged, hands and feet cuffed. They were laid out in a semi-circle, all an equal distance from each other. Five of them were men, five of them women. They were all very, very, good at their jobs. Yet they had all gotten captured. On one end of the semi-circle was a man with light brown hair and blue eyes, which were currently closed. The kind of man who women always develop a crush on. On the other end was a woman. Her hair was a light brown, naturally streaked with gold and chestnut red. Her eyes were a light, clear grey. She had a perfect heart shaped face. She was very attractive. The man watching in the shadows thought all of this whilst keeping his face a detached, unaffected front. She was attractive; it tended to help in her profession, nothing else about it.

The man continued to look at all his other prisoners, but mostly concentrating on the two people on the end. They were the most important. They were the best. And he would break them. "Breaking" people, it was always so exaggerated. All the storybook heroes were said to be un-breakable. This man knew that that was all a lie; pain and fear were powerful motivators. He had yet to meet a person he could not break. A quick set of footsteps appeared, and the man turned slightly to face them.

"Doctor" The man greeted the psychologist hurrying towards him, his tone cold and impersonal.

"Oh, I see that you have got all of them. Yes, Yes… and the ten civilians? Ah-yes. Rather a pity, to waste their lives. But I did make sure to choose people who did not have much to live for, no friends, family."

The captor snorted: "You chose them because no-one would miss them, not because you wanted to make this less of a tragedy."

"Well, yes, I suppose, anyway, eh, they should all be waking up soon." The psychologist stammered.

The captor nodded once again, then took his gun out and shot the psychologist. He had been useful in planning this. Now he was simply a liability, and of no use to him.

The captor relaxed for a second, a look of pride crossing his masked face. He had been planning this for months. Hacking into intelligence agencies servers was no easy task. Capturing the agents was no easy task. He knew that none of his men would be able to last long against these agents, but one of them couldn't withstand ten of his men armed with syringes or tranquilizer guns, hiding near their homes. He looked around the building, an old jailhouse. He had bribed and blackmailed people into letting him use it for ten days. He had added re-enforcements to the building, making it one great big metal trap. The whole place was dark, musty, and cold. Huge shadows covered the walls. There was an indefinable scent of sweat, blood, and fear in the air. It was enough to send your heartbeat racing, instincts screaming.

Ten days. He had a fascination with the number ten. It had been his tenth birthday, in October, at ten o clock when an American bomb killed his Libyan parents. All ten's. It was the moment his life had changed. The reason for his hate of America.