Brad woke seconds before the alarm went off at 0600. He never slept well when Ken wasn’t in bed with him, and that night was no exception.
Man, he’s going to be in a bad mood when he gets home… He hates the all-nighters.
Crawling out of bed, Brad proceeded with his morning routine of running, working out, showering, and eating. He hoped Ken would be back by the time he finished, but when he opened the garage door, Ken’s Explorer was still gone.
Brad started to worry after lunch when he still hadn’t heard anything. Brad wasn’t one to be a mother hen; he didn’t like anyone treating him that way, and Ken was the same. However, Brad was pissed he hadn’t even received a text. Brad called Ken a few times, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He didn’t leave messages, figuring Ken would see the missed calls and get back to him.
Ken’s silence was uncharacteristic, and Brad started to feel something was wrong. By 1300 he decided to call Kevin since Ken filled in for him on the schedule, thinking they might have talked. Kevin didn’t pick up either, so Brad left him a voice message.
“Hey Kev, this is Brad. Have you heard from Ken? He’s still not back from last night’s job, and I haven’t heard a word from him. Give me a call as soon as you can.”
Brad lay by the pool to take his mind off worrying, listening to music on his iPod, but he couldn’t relax and his anxiety worsened. After a while, he pulled out a net and started cleaning the pool as a distraction, even though it didn’t need it. With his earbuds in, Brad didn’t hear Kevin opening the gate.
<>
Just as Kevin opened the gate, a series of events ensued nearly simultaneously. Three sharp points of pain hit Brad, one on his arm and two on his back. His arm jerked up, and he dropped the pole as his back arched in pain, causing him to stumble and fall to one knee.
Brad looked up, attempting to get his bearings and identify safe cover when he saw Kevin running towards him. Kevin’s mouth was moving but Brad couldn’t hear him, and it dawned on him he no longer heard his iPod either. Blinding pain exploded through his body, and he convulsed as if hit by multiple Tasers, and then blackness…
<><><>
Something was wrong. Brad’s awareness was slowly returning, and his eyes were open but it was dark, and so quiet he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest. He tried to talk but couldn’t move his mouth. He was breathing, so his autonomous systems were functioning, but somatic control was absent.
As Brad returned to full consciousness, an overpowering sense of disconnectedness hit him. Intense loneliness and isolation, unlike anything he ever experienced, permeated his mind. His enhanced intellect connected the dots, and he realized Ken was gone. He had never been so overtly aware of their connection until it was suddenly absent, leaving a gaping hole in him.
Pushing down panic, Brad assessed his situation. A sheet against his back and a pillow beneath his head told him he was in a bed. Air moved over the bare skin on his legs, arms, and chest, and he felt his swimming trunks. He recalled being worried about Ken, seeing Kevin, massive pain, and now he was in a bed in some sort of sensory deprived state.
He was awake and aware, but everything felt wrong, and his frustration and anxiety, mixed with fear for Ken, caused a hot tear to drip down his cheek.
Standing beside the bed, Kevin saw the tear and exclaimed, “Doc! Something’s happening!”
Standing by his friend, Kevin watched helplessly, wanting to comfort him, to hold his hand or rest a hand on his shoulder, but the doctor insisted on no skin contact.
<><>
Kevin was confused by what occurred when he went through the gate. He was just finishing an assignment when he received Brad’s message, and since he and Bill lived so close, he figured he’d run by their house to see what was up.
When he arrived the garage door was closed, and no one answered the front door, so he figured Brad was back by the pool. Heading around the side of the house and practically being family, he didn’t hesitate to use his code and open the gate. If he was lucky maybe Brad was working on his tan au naturel. Although Kevin was genuinely in love with Bill, he loved the sight of a good-looking naked man with a body like Brad’s. As soon as Kevin saw Brad cleaning the pool in his shorts, he was disappointed and chuckled to himself.
I’m such a whore.
At that moment Brad’s arm jerked, and he arched his back, crying out in pain. Out of nowhere, three dark pronounced bruises appeared; one on his arm and two on his back. To Kevin’s wartime experience, Brad reacted like he had been shot. Surprise crossed Brad’s face, and with his enhanced vision, for a split second, Kevin saw Brad’s bright blue eyes turn white before rolling up. Moving as fast as he could, Kevin dashed towards Brad, but just before he reached him, Brad’s body convulsed and he collapsed to the pavement, unconscious.
<>
At Kevin’s exclamation, Dr. Thomas quickly moved to Brad’s bedside.
In a quiet voice, his face sad and filled with concern, the doctor leaned down close to Brad’s ear and said, “Ah, my poor boy. I know you cannot hear me yet, but I am so sorry. It will be better soon.”
Dr. Thomas inserted a syringe in the catheter attached to the back of Brad’s hand and pressed the plunger.
“Kevin, help me strap him down. He will wake in a moment and might panic, and we need to restrain him so he cannot hurt himself. He may be confused and not make sense, so do not be alarmed.”
<><>
The agonizing loneliness and isolation were more than he could take, and Brad was at the limit of his control. The depth of his love for Ken hit him like a Mack truck, and Ken’s absence created a hole that was about to kill him. As much as he cared for his military brothers and Dr. Thomas, life without Ken wasn’t worth living. Brad’s mind raced, spinning with dark, negative thoughts and emotions, and with his sense of time skewed, his loneliness seemed unending.
A sound so faint he wasn’t even sure he heard it jolted him, and Brad forced his thoughts still to listen, straining to feel or hear anything that might tell him what was happening or where he was. It came again but was too unclear to make out, and he started to sweat from the strain of listening, and proof he wasn’t alone.
Dr. Thomas looked at Brad’s straining form, his eyes expressing compassion for his young charge. He knew what Brad experienced and deeply regretted being the source of such emotional distress. He wondered at the unexpected turn of events, of Ken’s abduction the day after unlocking another ability, especially one that should be dormant for several years yet. He wanted to believe it was coincidence but suspected otherwise. Even without all the facts, his impressive intellect began piecing together parts of the puzzle, and he didn’t like the picture forming in the slightest.
“Kevin, I need you to gather everyone as quickly as possible. While you take care of that, I will see what information Bradford might have that can shed some light on what is happening.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Dr. Thomas regretted concealing information from Kevin but needed to talk to Brad alone. He was still unsure about revealing the new development between Ken and Brad to the others. It was a significant and essential step in their evolution but could be dangerous if Kevin and the others weren’t ready. Brad and Ken had always been slightly more advanced than the rest of the team physically, emotionally, and mentally. The others would reach the same stage eventually, but on the path he set his remarkable young charges on, his philosophy was to let nature take its course and not interfere more than he already had.
With Kevin gone, the doctor took Brad’s hand and said, “Bradford. Come back, my boy. It is time to wake up.”
The whispers became louder, and Brad was on the verge of making out words. He sensed motion and felt seasick. Someone squeezed his hand, and his heart leapt inside his chest.
Ken!?
The touch was like an anchor, and he fought with every ounce of his will to grab hold and pull himself towards it.
The feeling of movement strengthened as the darkness receded, and a pinpoint of light appeared in the darkness. As the light expanded he heard a voice, but it was still too faint to make it out.
Suddenly, Brad woke up. In an instant, his vision, hearing, and other senses became active again. The sudden shift was jarring, and his breath caught in surprise.
Dr. Thomas, looking into Brad’s eyes, immediately noted when there was recognition.
“Hello, Bradford, welcome back.”
Brad wasn’t able to speak right away. He felt immense relief at being out of the darkness, but the void, the absence of Ken, was still there.
More tears fell, and all he could bring himself to say was, “Doc, he’s gone.”
Squeezing the doctor’s hand, Brad closed his eyes, his body shaking in quiet grief.
Releasing Brad’s hand, the doctor firmly gripped his shoulders and said, “Bradford, look at me, son.”
Brad looked up, his blue eyes red and glassy from the intense emotions running through him. When they made eye contact, Brad saw many things; compassion first and foremost, and concern, but also uncertainty and fear. In all his years with the doctor, Brad had never seen him that way.
“We do not know that. I will not lie to you. Kenneth is not with us, and I assume he is in great danger, but you are our best chance of finding him. You must focus on that.”
“Why can’t I feel him, doc? Our connection must have grown so gradually I never realized it was there until it was gone. I’ve never felt so alone.”
“That is my fault, Bradford, and I am deeply sorry. Typically, after the trauma you experienced, I would handle things differently. In this instance, because of what you experienced, I have temporarily suppressed your connection with Kenneth. It is necessary for multiple reasons. First and foremost, it probably saved your life. Your link to Kenneth is still developing, and you experienced whatever happened to him. I had to stop it before it killed you.”
Brad sounded desperate, almost hysterical, and tried to grab the doctor’s arms, but the restraints kept him from doing so.
“Please, doc,” he pleaded, “You have to undo whatever you did! I need him back!”
“I will, son, I will, but we must proceed with some level of caution. I do not believe Kenneth is dead. You have to remember how hard it would be to kill any of the bodies, but you, while very tough in your own right, could be killed by what would merely incapacitate one of them.
“What is happening to you is new, and I have no wish to cause you or Kenneth any permanent damage by rushing in blindly. Kevin is gathering everyone, and in a few moments you and I will meet with them and begin formulating a plan. Let us get you cleaned up and into some clothes.”
<><>
Brad took a quick shower and put on some spare jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals from his locker. The doctor came in and gave him another shot to continue the suppression of his connection to Ken. He didn’t like it but understood.
Not long after, everyone arrived and was seated at the conference room table. The guys were stunned at Brad’s haggard appearance when they first came in, and every one of them gave him an encouraging hug or pat on the back, asking him how he was holding up. It was immediately apparent how emotionally distraught he was, and their natural instinct was to close ranks around him in support.
When Dr. Thomas came in, the room fell silent, and the men became laser-focused. Their best friend and Captain was missing, and both Brad and Ken needed them.
“As you all know, Kenneth is missing. I believe he has been abducted. No one has attempted to contact us, so we must assume it is not a ransom, which means they want something from him, and we have limited time to rescue him before they are successful.
“Bradford, please go over events starting from yesterday afternoon to present.”
Brad glanced at him, “Everything, Sir?”
“Yes, Bradford. I have reassessed my reasons. I wish to protect you all, but events are accelerating my plans for you far ahead of schedule. The timing of this is terrible, but secrets only serve to cause suspicion and doubt.”
Brad’s hands gripped the lectern tightly enough that his triceps and forearms flexed, tightening his t-shirt. Fresh anxiety hit him as he recalled how often Ken stood where he was, addressing everyone as a team. Taking a deep breath to settle himself, he started recounting events.
“Okay… well, Ken got home about 1700 yesterday from his workout with Bry and Kev. I was putting groceries away when he got home, and after I finished, I gave him his post-workout exam, which led to…”
Trying to lighten the mood, a few of the guys chimed in with a “Boom Chicka Bow Wow,” which caused Brad to blush and even crack a smile.
“Alright, you fuckers. Yes, we made out.”
Glancing at the doctor, who didn’t like them cursing, Brad said, “Sorry about the F-Bomb, doc.”
Brad recounted the events, telling his buddies everything.
“…And what happened next was the most amazing, mind-blowing, over the top sex we’ve ever had. The physical charge I got was unbelievable, and my senses were also enhanced which has never happened before. I flipped us over on the bed without any effort.”
Raised eyebrows and “Oh, shit” looks passed among them as what Brad said sank in.
Kevin interjected, “Brad, wait a second. When I got to your place, and I saw you experience whatever that was, your eyes changed color just like you said Ken’s did.”
The doctor explained, saying, “What Kenneth succeeded in doing was linking his nervous system with Bradford’s, allowing them to feel and share each other’s sensations. It is a remarkable ability, and when fully under control by both parties, what is currently happening will not be an issue. The timing of Kenneth uncovering this new ability is terrible, however, it might be the key to rescuing him if our other attempts fail.
“Although I do not know who is behind Kenneth’s abduction, I believe I have pieced together some of what happened based on evidence exhibited by Bradford’s injuries.
“Whoever abducted Kenneth is aware that he and most likely you four,” the doctor glanced at Bryan, Rick, Pat, and Kevin, “are physically exceptional. The kidnappers knew they needed to ambush Kenneth to incapacitate him, and carefully planned their assault, orchestrating his isolation and shooting him with three heavy tranquilizer darts followed by multiple Tasers.
“The neural pairing between Kenneth and Bradford is still active, but suspended. This is dangerous, and in the future, once this ability is fully understood and controlled, it should not be kept active as it is now. As soon as I stop the suppression in Bradford, the connection will resume, but it puts Bradford at risk depending on Kenneth’s current condition. There is no way whoever has taken him will know of this, so we might be able to use it to our advantage.
“I believe the tranquilizers used to incapacitate Kenneth were nearly potent enough to kill him. Fortunately, this did not happen, and his heightened metabolism burned through them earlier today. Once that occurred, the link reestablished with Bradford, coinciding with Kevin’s arrival at their house. It was a delayed reaction, and Kenneth’s nervous system inadvertently broadcast his experiences to Bradford as his mind regained consciousness. It was as if the attack happened to both of them simultaneously but with a time delay buffered by the tranquilizers.
“If Kenneth were in control of his faculties, he would realize what is happening and stop it. I do not think he would risk Bradford’s well-being even if it meant his own demise, so we must assume he is still incapacitated in some way, which is the reason I am reluctant to stop the suppression.
“Before I consider taking that route, we need to exhaust all other, more conventional means of investigation. Richard and Loy, you will lead the on-site investigation at the hotel where Kenneth was taken. You all have your areas of expertise. Bradford, if he is up to it, will stay here and run the operation. If he is unable for any reason to continue, William can take over. Gentlemen, you are the most elite group of men in the world. We know whoever captured Kenneth had the knowledge and skill to take him out unaware. We are not unaware, and from now on, none of you goes anywhere alone. Stay sharp and alert, and we will prevail. We will bring Kenneth home.”
Rick and Loy, accompanied by Pat and Darren, immediately left for the hotel. Kevin wanted to go to the office and look over the phone and appointment records with Sally, and Bryan and Lane stayed in the lab ready to do whatever was needed as more information became available.
Bryan and Lane stayed close to Brad, trying to keep him distracted while keeping an eye on him. Bryan’s steadfast presence was comforting, and Lane’s chatter prevented Brad from withdrawing further into himself.
<><><>
Dr. Boris Cromwell stared intently at his new test subject, sitting restrained in a holding cell. Ken was the most magnificent male specimen Dr. Cromwell had ever seen; whoever created him had outdone themselves. The name on his driver’s license and credit cards read Kenneth Habersham, but Dr. Cromwell knew that was false. However, despite his best efforts, he could not discover Ken’s true identity, and it vexed him. Someone had gone to incredible lengths to make sure Ken’s past remained hidden.
The preliminary blood and tissue samples showed his captive to be in perfect health; too perfect, in fact. The DNA results were phenomenal and obviously not natural, showing genetic markers and additional helices Dr. Cromwell had never seen before. The full MRI and CT Scans revealed an uncanny muscle and bone density, along with countless physiological modifications, many subtle and at the cellular level, to compensate for the changes. The sheer number of mitochondria in his cells was astounding, and Ken had at least one additional nerve trunk off his spine, possibly more. Dr. Cromwell considered himself a genius, but he quickly became lost as he looked at Ken’s test results.
Based on the information furnished by General Burgess the results were not unexpected, but he was skeptical of the General’s claims. The General was a military man and not a scientist, and Dr. Cromwell thought his descriptions of Ken too far-fetched to believe.
An alert from one of the monitors attached to Ken pulled his eyes away from the test results; they were so intriguing he could not stop staring at them. His eyes widened in surprise at Ken’s level of brain activity. For the level of sedatives administered, what was happening should be impossible!
Ken’s body was burning through the tranquilizers much faster than expected, so Dr. Cromwell switched to something less lethal but more mentally disabling. The new mixture was more potent and should keep Ken’s brain in a fog and make him extremely susceptible to suggestion.
<><>
As Ken came to, his first realization was how awful he felt. The bruises and lacerations on his arm and back hurt like hell, his entire body was sore, and he felt like he needed to throw up. Instinctively he tried to still himself but couldn’t find his center. The place in his mind where he controlled his abilities was present but unavailable, surrounded by a chemical barrier he could not penetrate. Surprisingly, he wasn’t upset, even though he knew he should be worried.
He couldn’t see and quickly realized he was blindfolded. Air against his skin told him he was naked except for some underwear or shorts, and he was sitting upright in a sturdy metal chair. Multiple leather straps secured his arms, wrists, legs, and neck, keeping him immobile.
Aside from his pain and discomfort, Ken’s only other thought before losing consciousness again was, “Man, Brad’s gonna be pissed I’m late…”
<>
Dr. Cromwell gasped in surprise as Ken’s DNA overwrote the cultures, destroying them in seconds and ruining his initial tissue samples. The ramifications of that were not lost on him, and he needed to test the limits of the reaction before he could move forward. Without hesitation he called Robert, one of his junior assistants, to the command center.
Every person in the facility had extensive background checks as part of their security clearances, but unbeknownst to them, deeper personal surveillance to use as leverage and control if necessary. Robert’s private browsing history showed his preference for men; men like Ken. With a little chemical assistance, Robert should fall into a trap that would tell Dr. Cromwell precisely what he needed to know.
“Dr. Cromwell, Sir? You called?”
Robert sounded nervous. He rarely interacted with Dr. Cromwell directly and was scared and intimidated by the man.
“Yes, Robert. I require your assistance.”
“Of course, Sir, whatever you need, I’ll be more than happy to help.”
“I’m sure you are aware of our newest guest, the center of my current research project. We are running a series of tests, and I need a second set of samples. There are anomalies we did not predict in his genetic makeup, and the first set of samples were contaminated.”
Robert was confused, “What type of samples do you need, Sir?”
“A full blood panel, urine, and DNA swabs. He might be lethargic and unresponsive, but you should be able to manage. Robert, this is extremely important, and your discretion paramount. I will disable the security cameras in the holding cell for the duration of your visit.”
Robert was about to question the need for secrecy but kept silent.
He stammered slightly as he replied, “Um. Uh, of course, Sir. I’ll do my best.”
<>
Dr. Cromwell kept the cameras active but disabled the lights on them. Before Robert entered the room, Dr. Cromwell flipped a switch, and an odorless gas filled the chamber. He wasn’t sure if it would affect Ken, but it would definitely affect Robert, reducing his inhibitions and inciting his libido. With no hint of regret or remorse, Dr. Cromwell was sending Robert to a death sentence. In his mind, Robert’s demise was an acceptable loss for the sake of his research.
<>
When Robert arrived, the glass walls of the holding cell were already polarized to an opaque state. He was surprised at the weaponry the guards carried; whoever the test subject was must be important or possibly dangerous. Robert showed his I.D. to the security guard, who swiped his smart card, and immediately a solid thunk resounded as the door bolts pulled back, followed by a slight hiss as the seals opened.
Stepping into the room Robert stopped in his tracks, awestruck. The most perfect man on the planet sat in front of him, practically naked, blindfolded, and strapped to a chair. Ken’s physique was beyond words, like a comic book superhero; like the men on the internet he fantasized over.
Robert noticed the security camera lights turn off when the room sealed. As soon as the door closed, Ken’s head whipped around in his direction, and with the thunk and hiss of the door some of the tension drained out of his posture. Robert was mesmerized, his arousal evident as he stared at the man in front of him.
His breathing deepened, and he flushed as his eyes slowly moved over every inch of Ken’s tanned, muscular body. As his eyes continued to roam, he noticed more and more detail about Ken that elevated his excitement. Ken had just the right amount of hair on his chest, and while Robert couldn’t see the color of his eyes because of the blindfold, in his fantasy, Ken’s eyes were dark brown, almost black. His hair was dark brown and short, cut close on the back and sides and longer on top, making him look military. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and the scruff on his face added to his ruggedly handsome features.
Ken’s deep voice resonated through his chest, but his words were slurred like he was drunk.
“B, is that you?”
Robert seized the opportunity and replied, “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Oh God, B. I was worried you’d be pissed ’cause I was late. I can’t see you, man. I can hear you, but I can’t see you. Can you let me up?”
“No, I can’t… Not yet. It’s part of the game.”
“Game?”
“Oh yeah… I think you’re going to like it.”
Robert set the sample containers and equipment on the small table in front of Ken. Robert circled Ken slowly, taking off his lab coat and loosening his tie as he moved. The heat radiating off Ken’s body hit him, along with his scent, and Robert trembled with excitement.
“B...”
Robert couldn’t help himself and reached out, putting a hand on the ball of Ken’s shoulder. Dr. Cromwell’s serum was in full effect, and any sense of professionalism or propriety in Robert was quickly breaking down. As soon as he touched Ken’s shoulder, Robert turned into a wild man, wanting to feel each and every muscle at the same time. Robert ran his hands through the sparse hair on Ken’s chest, squeezing his biceps, shoulders, and pecs, touching every part of Ken’s body he could reach from his vantage point behind the chair.
He stopped suddenly when he noticed the substantial tent in Ken’s shorts.
“Oh God, B… Your hands feel good.”
Sweating in excitement, Robert practically tore his clothes off as he moved around to Ken’s front.
Ken smelled Robert's excitement in his sweat, but something wasn’t right. His brain wanted to tell him it wasn’t Brad, but the suggestive state of his mind from the sedatives overrode reason, reinforcing the idea it was Brad in front of him.
Robert continued touching Ken, fulfilling a fantasy of being with such an incredible man, and he was in awe at the heat and solidity of Ken’s body.
The illusion of Brad’s hands sent signals to Ken’s libido he couldn’t resist, and he became aroused. He wanted to feel Brad’s hands on him, but even more, Ken wanted to touch him back.
Ken’s reaction fueled Robert’s fantasy, and his mind clouded even more as the influence of the gas overpowered rational thought and behavior. He moved in front of Ken and dropped to his knees, staring at the object of his desire.
His eyes glazed over and his hands reached out, freeing Ken from his shorts. Touching Ken shattered any remaining resolve he had, and he lowered his head, taking Ken into his mouth…
<>
… it was over in a few minutes, and Robert stood up, unsteady on his feet and wiping his chin from the results of Ken’s orgasm. Robert was a smart young man, and as reason came back to him, he realized Dr. Cromwell set him up. He specifically sent Robert on this task, knowing what would happen, but Robert still wondered why. He knew he had been drugged and was angry at the manipulation.
Ken’s chest heaved, and he moaned, “Oh fuck….” under his breath.
Dr. Cromwell observed everything on a monitor in his office, and the scene played out exactly as he wished. As soon as Robert worked Ken to release, Cromwell flipped a switch, sending additional sedatives into the catheter on the back of Ken’s hand, causing him to lose consciousness again. Dr. Cromwell sat back in his chair, continuing to watch.
By the time Robert caught his breath, Ken had gone still, breathing slow and deep.
“Damn, he fell asleep.”
Standing up, Robert put his hands on Ken’s shoulders, trying to shake him awake, but Ken barely budged.
“Holy crap, this guy is solid.”
In a panic, Robert noticed almost half of the leather straps holding Ken immobile were shredded and useless, ripped apart by his body’s reaction to his orgasm.
Robert started putting his clothes back on to finish his task but suddenly felt light-headed. He straightened up as excruciating pain so intense he couldn’t even scream wracked his entire body. Robert’s back arched as he fell to the floor, overcome by a massive seizure, and in seconds he stopped breathing, his body lifeless, and his face expressing horrible pain.
Dr. Cromwell observed Robert’s death dispassionately. He wasn’t sure how the genetic markers in Ken’s DNA worked, how they got there, or what purpose they served, but he was determined to discover Ken’s secrets and duplicate them. Dr. Cromwell was confident Robert’s autopsy would reveal significant data. General Burgess was paying a high price for his research and expected results, and Dr. Cromwell was not one to disappoint powerful allies.
Later that afternoon, the autopsy showed massive cellular breakdown in Robert’s body as if his DNA unraveled and all the proteins and cells in his body denatured and lysed, spewing their contents into the interstitial fluid in his body. Even more intriguing was evidence of genetic remodeling with the disruption. If the process had been slower, Robert most likely would have become a giant puddle of plasma. As it was, the progression happened blindingly fast and Robert’s body could not stand the assault on his cellular structure, and he died almost instantly.
Dr. Cromwell knew he would have to accelerate matters to achieve results. He thought it a pity he could not spare Ken.
“Let us see what you can do, my friend, before that magnificent body of yours gives out.”
<>
Ken regained consciousness, blindfolded, naked, and spread eagle on a cold metal table. Steel bindings replaced the shredded leather straps from earlier, and a padded leather brace held his head mostly immobile, allowing for some slight motion.
Hearing movement and identifying several distinct smells, he attempted to focus, but the place in his mind where he controlled his abilities remained unavailable. He gave no outward sign of his frustration or worry but knew he was in trouble.
Ken’s memory was foggy, but he recalled being shot with three tranquilizer darts and multiple tasers, and vaguely remembered a make-out session with Brad which confused him - maybe it was a dream, but damn it seemed real - and now he was strapped to a table. He usually had an excellent sense of time, but his internal clock was confused after being unconscious and drugged. He had no idea how long it had been since his capture, but it was long enough for him to be ravenously hungry, and the thought of food made his stomach rumble loudly.
Dr. Cromwell stared at Ken obsessively, as if he could discern the vast, world-changing secrets of his existence merely by watching him. Aside from the sound of Ken’s stomach, Dr. Cromwell noted the signs and knew immediately when Ken awoke.
“Ahhh... You are awake. And famished! Let me see what I can do about that.”
With the test results so far, Dr. Cromwell produced more effective serums to use against Ken’s advanced physiology and metabolism. He flipped a switch, and a concentrated protein solution flowed into Ken’s body through various catheters. Additional liquids to prevent dehydration and restore electrolytes also fed into his body, giving him an immediate boost in energy. It did little to appease his hunger, but he felt much better.
Ken’s Mental faculties were unavailable, but his physical senses were unaffected, and he counted 52 points of discomfort on his body. Some were catheters, but others felt like needles or electrodes.
“We are finalizing your preparation for the next phase, and will begin shortly.”
After years of working with the doctor, Ken recognized the familiar smells and sounds of lab equipment, and applying his senses, he tried to visualize the man talking to him, picking up on the stiff cloth of a starched lab coat and the slight, practically inaudible squeak of a stool rotating as the man moved. He smelled pipe tobacco. The man’s English was fluent, but Ken detected a trace accent. It seemed Slavic, but he wasn’t sure.
Ken’s training was instinctual and he started forming a profile, building and processing information to identify where he was, who held him captive, and what they wanted. He had a good idea already, and it didn’t bode well for his future.
A faint Beep followed by rapid typing on a keyboard ensued, and after a slight delay the back of his hand burned as more chemicals entered his system. A warm sensation quickly spread over his body, his skin flushed, and he immediately became erect. Ken tried as hard as possible to will his erection down but couldn’t do it, and in seconds he was hard to the point of discomfort.
Ken heard Dr. Cromwell stand and move over to him, and decided to break his stoic silence, asking, “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Nothing you can give me voluntarily. I’m sure you could tell me quite a bit about yourself if you were so inclined, but I could never be certain of the truthfulness of your information. Therefore, I have no choice but to gather the information I need through… other means.”
Ken didn’t like the sound of that, and if the situation weren’t so serious he would have scoffed at the melodramatic pause.
“We have already gathered much information, although I’m a bit upset about losing one of my promising young researchers. At least Robert died happy.”
Right away, Ken knew Dr. Cromwell referred to his dream of making out with Brad. It was a hallucination, and Ken killed some poor guy without meaning to. He was already angry at being taken, but Robert’s death added to his list of paybacks once his buddies rescued him.
“We are going to chart your neurological pathways. To do this, we will stimulate your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems simultaneously, as well as the tertiary system you possess. The human orgasm is one of the few times when both systems are active, and we can gather more data that way. The next phase, I believe you will find most pleasurable, at least initially. Later, perhaps not so much, however, there is nothing you can do about it. Fight all you wish, but it will not matter. I’ve learned enough to shut down your brain activity. I intend to learn everything I can from your body while you are alive, and the rest after you have expired.”
Ken was seriously pissed off yet completely helpless, at least for the time being. If his captors wanted a fight, they would get one. Ken knew Brad and the guys would already be searching for him, and he had to give them time and hold out as long as he could. Just thinking of Brad boosted his resolve, and he couldn’t help thinking how much he loved the man who was his best friend and partner. He sucked in a deep breath to steady himself.
Come on, guys, get a move on and get me outta here.
“Okay, fucker, quit starin’ at my dick and get on with it.”
Dr. Cromwell blushed, embarrassed because he was staring at Ken’s impressive organ, standing at attention.
Recovering his composure, he quickly said, “Bravo, my boy. That’s the spirit! Fight as long as you can… The longer you last, the more information I can gather.”
Cromwell moved away to type, and another Beep soon followed.
Within seconds Ken broke out in a heavy sweat. Nearby fans started up, and a soft breeze brushed over his sweaty skin, inducing a pleasant, soothing sensation. Ken wasn’t prepared for the strength or intensity of the sensations that hit him. Every muscle in his body tightened, and he would have come off the table if he hadn’t been strapped down. He could barely breathe, and his whole body turned beet red.
Dr. Cromwell’s eyes widened in surprise at Ken's reaction. His musculature was incredible, and Dr. Cromwell found himself getting excited despite his clinical detachment, and made a mental note to review the recordings later in private.
Ken couldn’t help himself and exclaimed, “Oohhhhh Fuck!”
Breathing heavy, his chest heaved as he sucked in air, and his abs tightened with each breath. A powerful orgasm hit him but didn’t stop and quickly became painful. Fire ripped through his body as Dr. Cromwell altered the signals to his nervous system. The pain was relentless, and there was no reprieve. Ken tensed his body to fight off the pain, but his normal defenses were unavailable and he could only endure it.
Except for his initial outburst, Ken kept silent through it all, and after minutes the signals stopped. Soaked in sweat, his muscles were pumped, with veins showing everywhere. What he experienced would have killed a normal human, but Ken was far from reaching his pain threshold. As he recuperated, he felt the sting of more fluids entering his body to help with his recovery. He wasn’t sure why, but his thoughts turned to the last time he and Brad made love when he discovered the new bonding technique.
Unexpectedly, another orgasm hit, more intense than the first, and the pain that followed more extreme. Ken wasn’t sure how long he could hold out if the pain levels continued to elevate. Fire shot through all the nerve receptors in his body, inducing every sensation imaginable, the effects magnified because of his enhanced senses. Massive disorientation hit as well when his proprioceptors became confused, and he lost all awareness of the position of his limbs and orientation. His empty stomach heaved, trying to expel its contents in reaction to what was happening. Pressure and stretch receptors in various organs fired off corrective hormone cascades trying to compensate, and his vitals were all over the map.
Beep.
Ken lost track of time, enduring the torture in stoic silence, not wanting to give in to his captors. His body was on fire, with only seconds between each round of stimulation. In those brief seconds, while they pumped him full of fluids and protein, his body did what it was designed to do; recover as quickly as possible. After an hour Ken lost consciousness, his body continuing to twitch and spasm after he passed out.
Dr. Cromwell was more than impressed. In the next phase, he would stop the fluid and protein intake to see how long Ken could last and how his body recovered without aid. He was interested to see how Ken’s physiology would prioritize its recovery.
After a few minutes, Dr. Cromwell forced Ken back to consciousness. When Ken came to, the strong smell of his sweat and semen hit him, and even through the fog of pain, he thought:
Brad would so love this.
Ken lost consciousness after twenty minutes without the replenishing fluids and proteins. He stopped sweating halfway through, and his movements diminished to the point where he was merely twitching. Grimly, Ken never made a sound, not wanting to give them any satisfaction.
Dr. Cromwell was in awe of Ken’s physiology. The manner in which his body controlled and monitored itself without conscious control, the way it redirected resources and repaired itself was something he never thought possible. Whoever created his subject was a biological Einstein. Dr. Cromwell was barely scratching the surface, and it would take him years to process the data he had already collected. Excited, he was ready to move on to the next stage.
They gave Ken thirty minutes before starting the flow of liquids and proteins again to help his body regenerate. A technician wiped him down with some type of antiseptic, cleaning off the fluids covering his body. His skin was still hypersensitive, and the evaporation of the alcohol coupled with the abrasive wipes was uncomfortable.
Exhausted, Ken felt like he could sleep for days to recover. He kept thinking of Brad and the guys looking for him, willing them to move faster. His instincts told him his captors had barely scratched the surface with what they were doing to him, and the worst was yet to come.
Ken was a trained Navy SEAL, and normally it would take far more than his current situation to break his resolve, but the chemical attack on his mind that impaired his control over his abilities also affected his will. The emotional and mental struggle raging in his mind was grueling, and his determination began to falter, vacillating between holding on and feeling guilty for not being strong enough.
Smelling pipe tobacco, Ken knew his captor was back.
“Well, my boy, you are exceeding anything I could have imagined. Whoever made you is a genius. I am jealous of his intellect and vision, and I am going to make it my life’s work to duplicate and even improve upon what he has done.”
Ken knew he shouldn’t say anything, but his gut was telling him he was not going to survive. Instead of prolonging the pain, he would rather have it over sooner.
I’m sorry Brad, I think I’ve failed you’n the guys. I guess I’m bein’ a coward, but I don’t know if I’m up ‘ta this. I love you so much, I hope you know that.
“You stupid fucker. Compared ‘ta him you’re in diapers suckin’ on your mom’s hind tit and shittin’ guacamole into your Huggies. You’ll never figure this out. Just get it over with.”
Dr. Cromwell’s expression turned stony, his lips pursed, and his voice went cold.
“We shall see.”
The change in Cromwell’s tone was clear. Ken’s plan was working, but he was going to pay for it. More typing on the keyboard ensued, and Cromwell’s attitude was apparent in his typing as he pounded the keyboard.
With the last keystroke, Ken started counting down.
Three. Two. One. Beep.
A faint hydraulic hiss followed, and the shackle holding Ken’s right wrist raised up a quarter of an inch then slammed down hard, catching him by surprise. Ken didn’t know it, but it came down with enough force to break an ordinary man’s wrist.
Ken steeled himself, and other than letting out an “Oomph” of surprise, he remained stoically silent.
Beep.
The shackle rose and slammed down again, much harder. Ken tensed his body, getting ready for the next one, and started sweating.
Beep.
His wrist splintered. It took everything he had not to yell, and his breath was coming in harsh gasps from fighting off the pain.
Beep.
Ken’s wrist snapped, and he screamed.
Beep.
The shackle on his left wrist rose.
Oh, Fuck!
Dr. Cromwell ignored Ken’s screams as he watched his test subject react to the inflicted pain and damage. Glancing at the monitors, he smiled as the data flowed. The neurological information was unlike anything he imagined, and he was almost giddy at what he saw.
By the time his left wrist snapped, Ken was hoarse from screaming. His body strained, bowing from the pain and pushing his chest up. He struggled so hard the metal band across his chest bent, breaking a few ribs in the process. His body raised enough for the blindfold to catch on the corner of the leather headpiece, and Ken saw Dr. Cromwell’s long thin face staring back at him. They made eye contact for a brief second before the pain pushed Ken over the edge into unconsciousness.
Dr. Cromwell increased the flow of nutrients, adding a highly-concentrated mix of vitamins and antibiotics. He would have included painkillers if Ken had kept his mouth shut. He kept Ken unconscious for a short time while he set the bones, wanting them to heal correctly so he could break them again.
Next time it will be his thighs, something more substantial and traumatic to his body.
Almost before he could set the bones, they started knitting back together. At the rate he witnessed they would fully heal within a matter of hours.
Next time he would hold back on the nutrients and see how long it took.
Rick, Loy, Pat, and Darren drove to the Hilton where Ken worked the previous night, talked with Hotel security, and reviewed the available camera footage. The Atlanta Police were holding Tyrone and his friends, and Lil’B was pressing charges as well as the Hilton, but Ken was in trouble because he never showed to give them his incident report. Pat and Darren checked, and Ken’s Explorer still sat in the Parking Garage in the valet section.
None of the information uncovered so far was good news, and there was even some confusion after reviewing the security footage and audio recordings. The head of hotel security didn’t recognize the voice that instructed Ken to head to the loading dock. It didn’t make sense because the Atlanta PD used a small conference room off the lobby to take everyone's statements. Rick convinced the manager to give him a copy of the audio file but doubted they could identify the voice that led Ken into the ambush.
Rick and Loy traced the route Ken should have taken from the front of the building to the loading dock, and when they reached the corner, scanned the area. Rick immediately noted a pair of broken aviator sunglasses against the curb. Loy knew them on sight, and Rick smelled a faint trace of Ken’s cologne on them.
Their frustration level was high over the lack of information. The thought of Ken, not only their Captain but their brother being taken from them, tore them up and the pressure to find him consumed them. Why or how, after all the years they had been safe and anonymous in their new lives, could something like this happen? God only knew what was being done to him while they ran into dead end after dead end. The lack of evidence proved whoever was behind Ken’s abduction knew precisely what they were doing.
With his hands on his hips Rick exclaimed, “Fuck! If it happened, it had to be right here! This spot is out of sight of any security cameras, and there are at least two vantage points where someone could have gotten off an easy shot.”
He pointed to the two side streets half a block down in either direction.
Loy didn’t look any happier, but trying to stay positive said, “Well, let’s check them out. Surely one of them will turn up something.”
Rick led the way to the first location with Loy right behind him. They spent minutes going over the area, but the side street didn’t turn up anything. The second vantage point was more of an alley, containing a dumpster and a bunch of trash cans. A little further in was a large pile of cardboard boxes, a few of which were big, like something an appliance might come in. Loy noticed movement in one of them and signaled Rick.
Both men immediately went into ‘SEAL’ mode, moving quietly into position close to the boxes with their guns ready. As soon as Rick got a little closer, he nearly gagged at the smell coming from the box. Whoever was in it hadn’t bathed in a long time, and the stench of alcohol and sweat was almost overpowering to his enhanced sense of smell. Even Loy wrinkled his nose once close enough.
Rick put his gun away but was still alert in case whoever it was tried to run.
Tapping the box with his foot he said, “Hey, buddy, come out. We need to talk to you.”
There was no answer, just a slight movement followed by snoring. Rick smacked the box with the flat of his hand, making a loud pop, and the man inside let out a startled scream, shouting, “I.E.D! I.E.D! Take cover!”
Frantic movement followed as the man inside scrambled down to one corner.
Loy looked at Rick with a smirk and said, “Nice move, dickhead.”
Rick gave him a ‘how the fuck should I have known’ look.
Loy leaned down at the open end of the box, saying, “Hey man, it’s cool. You’re safe. What’s your name?”
“Who da fuck are you!?”
“Lt. Loy Barton, retired Navy. The dickhead here making all the noise is Lt. Rick Crawford, also retired Navy. Can you come out? We want to talk to you.”
The man was clearly a veteran, so Loy used their old rank in hopes of getting him to cooperate. His exit from the box was awkward, which became more apparent once they saw his prosthetic leg, followed by a large pile of crumpled newspapers. The prosthesis was an older design, made of wood, and didn’t fit properly.
When he stood up, he teetered, trying to get his balance but waived off any help. When he seemed stable, Loy held out his hand in greeting.
“So, what’s your name, soldier?”
The man looked leery but shook Loy’s hand, and Rick’s.
“Specialist Taggart Keenan, Army; 197th Infantry. Tag for short.”
Tag looked horrible. He was African-American and dark-skinned, but his complexion was gray and chalky. His eyes were bloodshot, his teeth yellow, his breath ungodly, and his body odor even worse. It was hard to tell how old he was in his current condition, but they guessed maybe early to mid-fifties. It looked like he had a rough life aside from whatever he went through during his time in the military.
“Tag, were you here a few nights ago?”
“Why? Am I in some kinda trouble?”
“No, not at all. You see, a buddy of ours, another Navy guy, went missing two nights ago. We think someone jumped him right over there,” Loy pointed half a block down to the street corner.
“If you were here, did you see or hear anything strange that night?”
“Maybe.”
Based on Tag’s response Rick let out an impatient sigh, knowing where the conversation was headed. Before Rick exploded, Loy quickly followed up.
“Look, Tag. This is important, and you’ll be doing us a huge favor if you can give us any information. I’m not giving you money because I know what you’ll do with it. I’ll be happy to buy you something to eat in exchange for your help. Are you hungry?”
Tag nodded his head.
“There’s a McDonald’s a few blocks down. Does that sound okay?”
Tag nodded again and mumbled, “Gimme a sec.”
Leaning over, he started fiddling with the harness holding on the prosthesis, but his hands were shaking so bad he was having trouble. Loy guessed he probably lost so much weight after his original fitting that it no longer gripped adequately.
Not wanting to embarrass Tag or make a big deal of it, Loy squatted down and said, “Here, Tag, let me do it.”
Tag stood awkwardly while Loy tightened the harness, making it more stable.
“Good to go now.”
Tag’s ‘thanks’ was barely a murmur. He was confused as to who these guys were and what they wanted. Some bullshit story about a friend in trouble, but for some reason he didn’t understand he trusted both of them, especially Rick, the dickhead who banged on his box! For the first time in months, Tag seemed to have some mental clarity as the fog over his brain began unraveling, and at their mention of food, he realized how hungry he was.
They walked to McDonald’s, and Loy let Tag order what he wanted. The shift manager came out from behind the counter when someone complained that a homeless guy had come in. Rick and Loy were intimidating towards the manager, saying they would sit in a corner and not disturb anyone, but needed to talk with their friend. Loy went full-on mental with the manager, scaring him so bad he almost pissed his pants. In hindsight, he might have gone a little overboard, but he felt defensive on behalf of Tag in addition to their urgency to find Ken.
While Tag ate, Loy maintained casual conversation, trying to draw at least part of Tag’s story out of him. Rick was getting impatient, but Loy squeezed his leg under the table, giving him a ‘calm down’ look. While they spoke Loy focused on Tag, eliciting a feeling of cooperation and contentment.
Once Tag was full and drinking his shake, Loy broached the subject of Ken again.
“So, Tag, did you see or hear anything the other night?”
“Mmmm-hmmm.”
Slurp.
“I’ll be straight wit ‘ya… I was majorly fucked up that night, but I heard someone talkin’. I was tryin’ ta sleep when I felt cold all of ‘a sudden. It scared me, so I was bein’ quiet, but I took a peep out and saw a few guys. They was big, like you two, dressed in black and wearin’ night vision gear. Two of ’em had nasty lookin’ rifles. They was drivin’ a black van and had it backed up right off da street. I thought I was trippin’, so I shut up and closed my eyes.
“A few minutes later I heard ‘em bitchin’ ‘bout how heavy some dude was. They threw him in the back of the van and took off. Didn’t think no more about it ’til you two showed up. Figured it must ‘a been a dream, or some sucker got what was comin’ to him. Now I ain’t so sure.”
“Thanks, Tag, that’s a huge help. Will you be okay if we take off now?”
“Yeah. Thanks for ‘da chow.”
As they stood to leave, Loy handed Tag one of his business cards.
“Look, Tag. I’m not sure if you’re in a place right now where you want any help. I have no idea what your story is brother, but if you want help getting out of that box, call this number and ask for me or Rick. No pressure, just think it over.”
Tag stuffed the card in his pocket with a slight nod and slurped the last of his shake, his eyes downcast in embarrassment. Loy patted Tag’s shoulder as they left, and his sincere concern for a fellow soldier who had fallen on hard times bled through with his touch. Rick’s attitude softened when he saw Tag’s eyes mist over at Loy’s touch.
With at least some intel under their belts, Rick and Loy headed back to the lab.
<><>
While Rick and Loy questioned Tag, Darren checked with banks in the vicinity of Ken’s abduction on the off chance their ATM cameras might have caught anything useful.
When Rick and Loy arrived, Kevin and Bill were back from the office. Kevin and Sally went over the schedule notes and realized Kevin got double booked, which led to Ken covering for him the night of the abduction. Sally didn’t remember making the double entry, and she was meticulous about details. Bryan was the best at cybersecurity, and after examining the network logs he found evidence of tampering. Someone manually entered Ken’s name to cover for Kevin. Sally assumed Ken or Kevin made the change; all the guys had permissions in the application and occasionally juggled their own schedules, so it was only in hindsight that they realized the changes were not made by any of them. Whoever did it wanted Ken at the hotel that night, and there were no tracks Bryan could trace.
Brad looked rough but was holding himself together, and each of them immediately went to see him when they got back. Brad was just as much a part of their lives as Ken, and their concern for him just as great. All of the men were physically affectionate with one another, and they ruffled his hair, squeezed an arm or shoulder, patted him on the back, or gave him a hug.
Pat and Darren called on their way back with news. The banks were cooperative, and two ATM cameras acquired images of a black van within the time frame corroborated by Tag. They didn’t capture the license plate or anything significant, not even the make or model, but at least they knew the when, where, and how of Ken’s capture.
Finally, they were making at least some headway, but after the initial information things dried up again, and the next few days were frustrating for everyone. Brad needed to stay in the lab with Dr. Thomas, and the rest of the guys only left when absolutely necessary. Sally subbed out as many of their appointments as possible to another Security Agency to give them time to focus on Ken.
On the fifth day after Ken’s abduction, Brad called everyone into the conference room. Due to the suppression serum, he couldn’t take sedatives to help him sleep, and his eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them. He hadn’t shaved, and his beard growing in was scraggly and unkempt.
Once everyone was seated an uncomfortable silence fell, with most eyes downcast in frustration. All of them, especially Brad, felt like they were failing Ken.
In a flat voice Brad said, “Before I start, I want to tell you how much I appreciate what’s been uncovered so far. Does anyone have any other ideas?”
No one spoke, and in the silence Brad felt Ken slipping further away.
“Doc, you said you’d consider stopping the suppression only after we exhausted normal means of investigation. I think it’s time, don’t you?”
“Bradford, I know the answer to this already, but my conscience dictates that I must ask anyway. What you ask is dangerous and could prove fatal. You know Kenneth would not want your death. Are you sure you wish to do this?”
“Doc, I’m sorry, but my life isn’t worth shit if Ken’s not in it. He means everything to me. I’ll gladly lay down my life to save his. Please do this, for both of us.”
The doctor’s face was solemn when he said, “Very well. Follow me. Everyone stay in the lab until further notice.”
As Brad and the doctor left the room, all the guys stood up, and Kevin called out, “Brad!”
Brad stopped and looked back.
“No one is dying here, you got that? Not you. Not Ken. Do you understand?”
Everyone stood by Kevin, making it evident his words were from all of them. Brad looked at the love and support on their faces, along with their fear. His eyes brightened at the emotional intensity of what he saw, and he managed a nod as he followed the doctor to an exam room.
“Disrobe completely and lie on the table. I need to see as much of your body as possible in case further bruising or marks appear. That will give us an indication of Kenneth’s physical condition. I am going to strap you down so you will not be able to hurt yourself if something goes wrong.”
The doctor connected an IV to his catheter and connected ECG leads once Brad was settled. Brad watched the doctor draw a syringe and inject the contents into a port below the IV, and the serum started to flow. Knowing the serum was going to restore his connection to Ken, he tried to will it to move faster. As difficult as it was, he kept his emotions in check.
“How long, doc?”
“Just a few more seconds. Bradford, with the physical distance Kenneth will not feel your presence or have any awareness of you. It is different for you, as the mental partner. Of course, if you were together, it would be completely different.”
It started as a slight tickle in the back of his brain, and a few seconds later Brad’s eyes went wide as Ken’s presence was once again a part of him, and he couldn’t help the sob of relief that escaped him.
“Doc! It’s working!”
Ken’s physical sensations immediately became apparent, and Brad was aware of the wires and electrodes connected to Ken’s body. His mind felt funny, not foggy but strange, and his vision went dark. In a brief moment of panic, he thought he was back in the empty void, but he quickly assimilated the ability to separate his own sensations from Ken’s, and as he settled into the connection, he realized Ken was blindfolded.
Tears of relief filled Brad’s eyes.
Thank God, Ken, you’re alive!
“He’s blindfolded and strapped down to a table.”
Dr. Thomas let out a sigh of relief as well, knowing confirmation Ken was still alive would rekindle the drive to find and rescue him.
Mimicking Ken’s words, Brad blurted out, “Okay, fucker, quit starin’ at my dick and get on with it.”
Dr. Thomas observed Brad’s body, watching as little red spots appeared where electrodes and catheters were attached to Ken.
He felt flushed, and his body broke out in a light sweat. Nearby fans started up, and a soft breeze brushed over his sweaty skin, causing a pleasant, soothing sensation.
Suddenly Brad tensed and flushed, and he broke out in a sweat. He was immediately erect, and his body contracted as powerful, intense sensations unexpectedly hit him. It caught both him and Dr. Thomas by surprise. His body mimicked Ken’s reaction, and he would have come off the table if he hadn’t been strapped down. He could barely breathe, and his whole body turned beet red.
Breathing heavy, his chest heaved as he sucked in air, and his abs tightened with each breath. A powerful orgasm hit him but didn’t stop and quickly became painful. Fire ripped through his body as Dr. Cromwell altered the signals to his nervous systems. The pain was relentless, and there was no reprieve. Ken tensed his body to fight off the pain, but his normal defenses were unavailable and he could only endure it.
If Brad had been present with Ken, what was happening would have killed him, but the distance dampened the effects. It was still almost more than he could take, but he mirrored Ken’s silence, enduring what was happening. He had to hold out and discover something that would help them find Ken!
Drenched in sweat, with veins showing across his physique, Brad was finally able to breathe when fluids entered Ken’s body to help him recover.
Brad realized Dr. Thomas was talking to him, but it was hard to hear him. He was with Ken, inside his lover and himself at the same time, and it was difficult being in both bodies at once.
“Bradford! Listen! Can you hear me?”
Through gritted teeth, Brad managed to say, “I… I… can hear… you. It’s hard to focus. When I’m there, I’m not here… not so much.”
“Good. Bradford, listen to me carefully. I am not sure how long it will be safe to continue this. If you focus, you should be able to hear through Kenneth’s ears as well, not just what he is feeling. The tactile sense is always the strongest, but you should be able to hear and smell everything Kenneth does. Try to focus and see if you can find a clue as to where he is or who he is with.”
“Oohhhhh Fuck.”
“Sorry, doc, that wasn’t me!”
Whatever was happening to Ken continued for minutes before it stopped.
“Bradford, I do not like this... Maybe I should stop this before you are injured.”
“Doc, no!”
Someone wiping him off and cleaning him up brought Brad’s perception back to his own body, and as the blackness of Ken’s vision receded, he saw Bill holding a towel with a concerned look on his face.
“Jeez, doc, what are they doing to him?”
“They are testing him, finding his limits.”
The doctor realized what Dr. Cromwell was doing to Ken and why. Stimulating Ken’s three nervous systems simultaneously would cause his physiology to work overtime on multiple levels, and his captor was gathering vast amounts of neurological and physiological data during that time.
It was a small victory when Dr. Thomas realized the data Dr. Cromwell gathered was invalid because of Ken’s connection to Brad. The neurological data originated from their combined nervous systems, and Ken’s captor had no way of knowing that.
A burning sensation in his hand told Brad something entered Ken through the catheters, and within seconds Ken felt better.
“Ken just got a surge of energy from something. I’m not sure what they’re giving him, but he feels better.”
Before Brad could recover, it started again. Massive pain hit him as all the nerve receptors in his body were stimulated simultaneously. Every muscle in his body contracted again, but he didn’t have the benefit of Ken’s enhanced physiology to fight the pain or recover during the slight reprieve.
“Bradford, I am not breaking the link completely, but I need to weaken the connection. You cannot keep this up!”
Brad was too weak to argue and felt Bill cleaning him up again with a warm damp towel. When he finished, Bill put a hand on Brad’s shoulder, squeezing firmly. Bill’s concern bled through his touch, but his support was also evident and it gave Brad strength. Brad knew Bill supported him one hundred percent and would do the same for Kevin if their roles were reversed.
As Dr. Thomas altered the solution, Ken’s presence lessened but didn’t disappear entirely. Ken was still there, but the sensations were filtered, like viewing Ken from a distance rather than being in his body.
The torture continued for an hour, and tears filled Brad’s eyes, not from the shared pain but because of what Ken was going through. Finally, mercifully, Ken lost consciousness.
“Doc, he passed out.”
Dr. Thomas’s voice radiated anger and contempt for whoever was responsible.
“Thank God! That was barbaric!”
“Doc, please let me stay connected. I hate what they’re doing to him, but if I share it, at least in part, I feel like I’m supporting him.”
Five minutes passed before Ken regained consciousness, and his first sensation was the strong scent of sweat and semen coming from his body. The smells hit Brad, and he breathed them in, relishing the scent of his partner. Normally it would be a turn on, but in this case it was an affirmation that Ken was still alive and it made him miss Ken even more.
The stimulation started again, but this time there was no surge of energy or relief, and Ken endured the torture nearly fifteen minutes before losing consciousness again.
Brad lay on the bed, grateful for the connection but in agony over what Ken was going through, raging against his helplessness and inability to comfort Ken in any way. Ken had no awareness of him but had to know that Brad and the others wouldn’t stop until they found him! He had to!
Half an hour went by before Ken regained consciousness, exhausted and aching all over.
Hold on, Ken!
“Doc, he’s awake. Can you amp up the connection for a few minutes? I need to try and get something that will help us.”
“I will, Bradford, but at the first sign of anything extreme, let me know. Remember, it takes a short time to reverse the serum if something horrific happens.”
The doctor did as Brad asked and fully re-established the connection. Brad sank into Ken, closing his eyes and immersing himself in his lover, attempting to sense anything that could help them discover where Ken was or who held him.
“I smell pipe tobacco.”
It started out fuzzy, but Brad began tuning in to Ken’s other senses and heard movement as someone moved closer.
“Someone’s talking.”
“Well, my boy, you are exceeding anything I could have imagined. Whoever made you is a genius. I am jealous of his intellect and vision. I am going to make it my life’s work to duplicate and even improve upon what he has done.”
“You stupid fucker. Compared ‘ta him you’re in diapers, suckin’ on your mom’s hind tit and shittin’ guacamole into your Huggies. You’ll never figure this out. Just get it over with.”
“We shall see my boy.”
Brad noted the change in Cromwell’s tone and knew Ken pissed his captor off. Brad grinned in his mind, knowing Ken had a knack for getting under people’s skin when he wanted to. Brad knew Ken chose his words intentionally but didn’t know his plan. More typing ensued, and Brad picked up on Dr. Cromwell’s attitude as he pounded the keyboard. After a slight pause, a Beep followed.
The slight hiss of something hydraulic was audible, and the shackle holding Ken’s right wrist raised slightly and then slammed down hard. It hurt a little but not bad.
Brad’s body reflected Ken's tension as he steeled himself for another blow. Tapping into Ken’s inner resolve, Brad remained silent, knowing the doctor would sever the connection if he reacted. He had to hold on for Ken and find out something that would help!
Beep.
Again, the shackle slammed down, this time much harder. Brad started to sweat from the pain and the effort of holding back what was happening.
The doctor noted Brad’s reaction and asked, “Bradford, what is going on?”
Beep.
Brad’s wrist splintered, and his breath was coming in gasps from dealing with the pain.
“Bradford!”
Beep.
The audible snap of Brad’s wrist filled the room, and he echoed Ken’s scream of pain. His body strained against the straps holding him down, trying to arch up from the pain, mimicking Ken’s movements.
Beep.
The shackle holding Ken’s left wrist rose.
Fuck!
Dr. Thomas plunged the syringe down as soon as Brad’s wrist broke, and the seconds before the serum took effect seemed like an eternity. Brad’s other wrist snapped, and he screamed uncontrollably. Everyone heard and ran to the room with Brad, the doctor, and Bill. Dr. Thomas heard another pop and looked down to see blood on Brad’s chest, where a broken rib protruded through his skin, mirroring Ken’s injury.
Brad’s voice was raw from screaming, but just before he lost consciousness, Bryan, Pat, Ricky, and Kevin heard him whisper, “Gotcha, you fucker….”
<><><>
It had been hundreds of years since the doctor had been so scared. However, it had also been centuries since he cared so much for anyone besides his partner, Albrecht. The young men whose lives he changed were like sons to him. With The Order on the brink of losing the war over mankind against their age-old Enemy, he never realized his path would lead him where he was. He nearly lost two of his children that night, and still might lose one. Brad would live, but the danger he put himself in was far more severe than anyone but the doctor realized. At the same time, though, he could not be prouder. Brad, still unawakened, exhibited a willingness to hold on through extreme agony, even at the cost of his own life, for another human being he loved.
As gently as he could, Dr. Thomas set the bones in Brad’s wrists and ribs, wrapping his wounds and doing everything possible to ease his pain and make him comfortable. The doctor would soon have a conversation with Bill and the others, knowing they would be confused and disturbed by recent events and what it could mean for them. He did not want their first exposure in another stage of their evolving nature to mar what should be a wondrous part of their lives. He might have to break a rule and take them on their next step rather than letting them reach it on their own.
Based on his knowledge of Ken and what he should be able to deal with, even though it was tearing at his soul knowing what Ken would have to endure, he had a close estimate of how much time they had to find Ken before he would most likely be dead.
Brad remained unconscious for nearly five hours, and each minute was one step closer to Ken’s death. Through his actions Brad drained himself beyond any measure of safety, slipping into a coma for a short time before showing some small improvement. The doctor did everything he could to assist Brad’s body without endangering him further.
<><>
Brad was having the strangest dream. He remembered excruciating pain, blacking out, and was now in a strange place surrounded by darkness. He saw himself clearly, and glancing down, he wore workout shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt, tennis shoes, and his favorite hoodie, which Ken had given him as a gift. He felt like he was on the set of a cheap sci-fi movie that didn’t have much of a budget.
Brad called out, “Hello!?”
There was no response, not even an echo, just an eerie silence.
Cautiously, he moved from where he appeared, uncertain of the direction without any point of reference. The floor seemed smooth and solid even though he couldn’t see it, and after a while he trusted it would stay that way, so he picked up his pace.
What’s the worst that can happen besides I fall and bust my ass?
Keeping track of time was difficult. In fact, he had an intuitive sense that time wasn’t moving, and there was so little to the place that his senses had no bearings. An indeterminate amount of time passed, although it seemed quite a while, and Brad noticed a light in the distance. Slowing down, he moved forward guardedly. As he got closer, it looked like a table with a bright light shining down on a man lying spread-eagled, and a sudden sense of urgency hit Brad in the pit of his stomach.
Something was wrong.
When he got within a few feet of the table, Brad hit an invisible barrier and was shocked at what he saw. The man on the table was in horrible shape, covered in blood and sweat, with many open wounds, some obviously burns, and multiple fractures in his arms and legs.
With the amount of damage and blood, Brad wondered how he could still be alive. As he looked more closely, the man was held down by thick metal bands. The face that slowly turned towards him was bruised and swollen, but as soon as they made eye contact, recognition hit Brad like a bolt of lightning.
“KEN! OH FUCK! KEN!”
For a brief second Brad was too stunned to react, then he launched himself against the barrier, pounding his fists against it, desperate to reach Ken.
Ken stared back, his gaze foggy, with no recognition in his eyes, and tears of fear, anger, and frustration spilled as Brad attacked the barrier. It finally started to give, and as it weakened, Ken gained more awareness. His eyes, nearly swollen shut, held a glimmer of recognition.
In the real world, the computer monitoring Ken’s brain activity registered the change, as Brad’s attack weakened the effects of the serum Dr. Cromwell used to keep Ken from accessing his abilities.
Ken’s lips moved, but Brad couldn’t hear through the barrier. Pushing his broken and tortured body, Ken struggled to move. It was agonizing, but with his wrist broken and slick with blood, he managed to pull his hand through the shackle.
Ken continued struggling, veins visible across his body from the strain, and Brad had no idea how he endured the pain. His face, under the blood, was beet red. Inch by inch he raised his arm, fighting to straighten the angle of the fractures, straining to reach Brad. Their desperation to reach each other was clear and seemed to be taking forever, even though it was only a few seconds.
When Ken’s arm pulled free, blood and spit flew from his mouth as he screamed, his teeth stained with blood and his nostrils flaring with every breath, fighting off overwhelming agony. Brad wondered how Ken could still be conscious through the damage and torture, and his heart ached at his suffering.
The progress was slow and excruciating, but Brad was closer. His hand felt broken from punching the barrier, but he couldn’t stop. He was about to black out from the pain when his fist broke through.
Ken’s outstretched hand trembled, and he couldn’t straighten his broken arm, but despite the shaking from his efforts he kept pushing.
Finally, their fingertips touched, and Ken’s voice filled Brad’s mind.
Brad! Oh God, B! Get me outta here! I can’t hold on anymore... I. I… I tried man, but I c…c…can’t take this anymore!
Ken broke down and started sobbing.
“Ken! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”
Looking at his best friend, his lover, and what they had done to him, hearing the agony in his voice, set fire to Brad. Terrified for his partner, he didn’t know what to do to save him. When their fingertips touched, Ken’s emotions became a part of Brad. The extent of his torture became evident, and Brad realized Ken was breaking.
Unaware of how he did it, acting on pure instinct, Brad took everything he saw into himself, desperately trying to share or at least lessen Ken’s suffering in any way he could. Through the connection of their fingertips, Brad took the fire, the pain, the guilt, all the anger and hatred directed at whoever was responsible, into himself.
Then, he pushed his love into Ken like a hot brand, searing through the pain with his own fire. Brad let his love for Ken wash over him and fill his lover up, stoking his emotions for the man in front of him. Everything within him grew until what he felt was palpable, and he pushed it into Ken, trying to give him hope and strength.
Ken was in too much pain to notice the blaze of white in Brad’s eyes when their fingertips touched. This time Brad’s eyes glowed bright enough to light the area for a brief second.
Brad sobbed so hard he could hardly talk, crying out, “You have to hold on, Ken! You have to! I can’t lose you! We know how to find you! We’re coming!”
Brad woke with a start, confused and disoriented. Powerful emotions lingered from the dream, but he couldn’t remember what it was about. He was still strapped down to the bed in the lab, exhausted.
<><>
Dr. Thomas noticed Brad move and quickly went to his bedside.
“Bradford? How are you feeling?”
Brad tried to smile, and his reply was raspy and barely audible.
“Like shit.”
Brad’s throat was raw from the screaming, and even the small whisperer chafed his throat, making him cough and sending renewed pain across his broken ribs. The doctor still wasn’t able to give him any sedatives or painkillers due to the lingering effects of the suppression serum.
A rare smile appeared on the doctor’s face, and he cupped his hand in the curve of Brad’s neck and shoulder, gently squeezing. To anyone who knew the doctor, it was a surprisingly overt show of affection.
“You were incredibly brave tonight, Bradford. Foolish, but brave beyond words, my boy. I am very proud of you.”
“Doc,” Brad whispered, “I saw him… I saw the bastard that has Ken.”
