Chapter 5

by Lucky Lady Bug
Rated PG

As the three Monkees traveled down the hall with Helena, another panel opened up, this one in the floor. Without warning, Mike fell into it. He gave a yelp as he plunged downward, but before the others could grab him, the trapdoor closed over.

"Mike!" Micky cried in alarm, kneeling down and trying to pry up the slab of stone. But it was no use, not even with Davy's and Helena's help. In frustration Micky hit the panel with his hands, then winced in pain. "Ow," he whimpered.

Davy could not help thinking that the action of hitting the panel was so much like something Baby Face would do, but the thought was fleeting. "Do you know what's under here, Helena?" he asked, looking over at her. She could be of great help to them, he determined. She knew of many different secret tunnels, rooms, and exits, and she did not agree with what her father was doing, so he was certain that she would assist them.

"It's a chute," she told him gravely, "and it leads to one of the laboratories." She rose. "We can't do anything here. We'll have to try to get to him from some other way."

"What other way?" Micky wanted to know. He did not trust Helena. She had not lifted a finger to help them before, and had instead tried and succeeded to seduce Davy—and now she was doing it again. Micky wanted to get Davy away from her, but he did not think that he would be able to. Davy would never believe that she was bad news.

"We have to travel through the dungeons," Helena answered grimly. "Are you brave enough?"

"Brave enough?!" Davy cried indignantly. "To save Mike?! Of course!"

Micky swallowed, not sure if it was just a trap. Helena could be trying to lead all of them into her father's clutches. He looked to Davy worriedly. "Hey, Davy," he hissed, "we need to talk."

"Talk?!" Davy said in confusion. "What's to talk about?! We have to help Mike, Micky! Don't you realize that?!" He frowned at his friend.

"Of course I do!" Micky said in exasperation, pulling Davy aside. "I just don't trust your new chick! You know she's Mendoza's daughter!"

Davy shoved Micky back, his eyes filled with disbelief and anger. "Oh come off it, Micky!" he snapped. "You're crackers! She doesn't agree with Mendoza!" He began to walk away before Micky could reply. "I think you're just jealous that she likes me!"

Micky gawked at him, at a loss for words. As Davy stalked off, Micky had no choice but to follow. He had the feeling that things would get much worse before they would get better. And Davy was liable to become more and more smitten.

As Micky tried to catch up, he suddenly heard Davy cry out in frustration. "Helena's gone!" he yelled, the sound echoing up and down the halls. Micky winced, wondering who else might have heard. Davy might bring down both of the mad scientists upon them, and Micky was not feeling brave enough to deal with it right now. He wished that Helena had never appeared in the first place. She certainly had not helped, and now she was gone again! Davy would worry thinking that she had ended up in trouble, but Micky was not sure of that at all. She might have gone to arrange trouble for them.

"Shh! Keep it down!" the drummer hissed then as he finally hurried to Davy's side. He looked at the shorter young man sternly, but Davy did not pay any heed.

"Keep it down?! We've got to find her, and Mike, and Peter!" Davy shook his head and leaned against the wall with one hand. "And now I'm all disoriented! Helena was going to help us out, but her father probably found out about it and took her somewhere!"

"Or else we're going to be led into a trap," Micky retorted. "Davy, I really don't think we can trust a chick who wouldn't even try to help us at all the last time! She fed us all that stupid stuff about a sequel, and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker!" He ran a hand through his hair. "We should just be relying on each other, the way we always have before. That's always been enough, Davy. We don't need Helena!"

Davy glowered. "Forgive me for not feeling very safe right now," he retorted. "We both know you're not a good navigator, Micky." He straightened up and stalked off down the hall, and Micky was exasperated as he trailed after his friend. The last thing they needed was to start being at odds, but Davy always got very defensive about the girls he was crushing on. Micky also had the feeling that Davy considered himself to be more of a worldly, man-about-town sort of person and that he knew completely what he was doing. But Micky doubted that he did.

****

As the two Monkees continued to wander aimlessly about, with no clear idea of which way to go, they suddenly stumbled upon a nook in the wall, from which they could see a hand hanging out limply. Davy made the "Oh" sound and Micky gasped, and though they dreaded what they would find, they did not expect that it would be Tony laying on a small shelf, breathing heavily and obviously in a lot of pain.

Quickly they both hurried over to him. "Hey Tony!" Davy exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

"What happened to you?!" Micky demanded.

Tony opened his eyes halfway and looked up at them. "I'm okay," he choked out, but they knew that was definitely not true. Shakily he reached for the edge of the wall and tried to pull himself up into a sitting position.

"`Okay' my..." Micky frowned, shaking his head as he abandoned whatever he had been going to say, and tried to assist him. "Where's Baby Face?"

"Did he hurt you or something?" Davy put in, noticing the absence of the other mobster.

Tony grunted and leaned forward, holding his hands over his face. "No, he didn't," he replied. "If he'd tried, I would've hurt him back." They had become separated in the labyrinth of the passageways, and Tony had ended up sprawled on the floor in agony, suffering some sort of electrical shock that had somehow coursed through his entire body. When it had ended, he had simply lain on the floor for he did not know how long before finally struggling to get up into the nook so that he would be out of the way. He felt so very weak that he did not know how he would stand to get up again at this point.

"Well, something sure did a number on you," Davy remarked, frowning in concern.

"Yeah," Micky agreed, and recalled how Tony had acted earlier, after they had fled from the containment laboratory. "Hey, you must be really sick or something," he said then. "Is it because of the mad scientists?"

Tony looked up at him and Davy blearily. "Look, don't worry about me," he answered, fully taking notice of the fact that now there were only two of them. "You guys should go find your friends. Mendoza's already got one of them. What happened to the other guy?" He did not know them all by name, and he was much too weary at this point to try to spend time remembering.

"We don't know," Micky admitted grimly. "They might have him now, too."

"Well, that's all the more reason for you two to go away and keep looking for them." He looked at them seriously. "I don't know what's happening to me, but I know why, and Mendoza could end up doing the same to them. You don't want that, do you?"

"But you tried to help us, and now you're suffering for it," Davy frowned. "I don't feel right about leaving you."

"Do you want it to be in vain?" Tony slumped back against the wall. "Look, I just need to get my strength back. You two should go on ahead, and in a few minutes or so, I'll probably catch up to you. But if I don't, then you guys have to keep going. Don't worry about me, don't think about me, just go find your friends." He did not want any sort of sympathy or pity, or for them to try to help him solely because he had let them out of the cell earlier when he would not have had to. And yet he had the feeling that they would have wanted to help him in any case, because that was the kind of people they were.

Davy swallowed, but he knew that Tony was right. After seeing how he was going through such torture, the last thing Davy wanted was for Mike and Peter to go through it as well. And that could very conceivably happen. "He's right, Micky," he said then, looking up at his friend.

Micky felt overwhelmed. He wanted to be able to help everyone who was in this mess, and yet he knew that he could not. Someone would have to be sacrificed, and it was not fair at all. He clenched a fist. "Maybe we could come back later and see if you're still here," he suggested.

"I don't want to hold you up. Your friends should come before me," Tony answered, and Micky knew that was true. "I said I'll be alright, and I will be. But your friends might not be okay right now." He hated being an inconvenience to anyone, and he also hated looking weak. But he knew that he could not get up again right now, and that to try would only be foolhardy. He winced, feeling the beginning of another headache coming on.

Reluctantly, Micky and Davy got up to leave. Tony had made them all the more worried about their friends, and they knew that they had to go find Mike and Peter before the doctors would have a chance to torture them, so they agreed that they would go. "Hey," Micky said as they began to walk away, "when we find Mendoza, we'll ask him what he did to you."

Tony grunted. "You do that."

****

Doctor Marcovich cackled with glee and clapped his hands together as he observed the trio on a large screen in another of his laboratories. "So they've left him at last," he crowed. "Look at how weak and exhausted he is." He glanced over to Mike, who was chained up to a wall and watching furiously. "That is how you will be before long!"

Mike glowered. "Look, what's the point of all this?!" he cried, straining against the shackles in vain. "Why do you guys want to hurt us? Is it some kind of revenge?"

"Nothing so base!" Marcovich retorted. "But as my comrade would say, Science must be served!" He smirked. "Why, if we could uncover all of the secrets about the human mind and spirit, and how long it takes for even the strongest person to break down, it would be knowledge that would be very useful in any future wars." Then he sighed and shook his head. "Of course, Mendoza doesn't see it that way, since he is not an enemy spy."

Mike was frustrated and angry. Marcovich had been watching the others on this screen ever since Mike had woken up in this unpleasant room, and they had observed Micky and Davy's argument over Helena. Mike was inclined to agree with Micky on the matter, and he dearly hoped that Davy would not end up getting them into deeper trouble by insisting that Helena would be good to have around. "So what is wrong with Tony?" the Texan demanded now. "He's been acting funny ever since...well, ever since he helped us get out of that cell." He had hesitated to make mention of that, but then he had decided that Marcovich most likely knew about it anyway.

Marcovich smirked. "And that is why he is `acting funny,'" he replied. "He helped you, and his comrade Morales, and the chip that he was implanted with is punishing him for it." He walked over to a nearby table and picked up a small, rectangular object not any bigger than his thumb. "After careful consideration, Mr. Nesmith, Doctor Mendoza and I have decided to see how well you fare with one of these as well."

"Oh, well, thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass," Mike retorted sarcastically, grimacing as Marcovich approached him with the unwanted microchip. His thoughts raced frantically and he wondered how he would ever get out of this. He was supposed to be the leader and to be able to help the other three, and what on earth would they do if he ended up in as much pain as Tony obviously was? Mike pressed himself harder against the wall, trying to think of some way out of this.

"It really won't be so painful," Mendoza announced as he entered the room, "not if you simply obey whatever the chip instructs you to do." He smiled. "If Mr. Ferano had merely cooperated, he would not be suffering right now." He went to the table and took up a scalpel. Mike stared at it in alarm, but when Mendoza caught his gaze he simply shrugged. "The chip must be planted within your body, Mr. Nesmith," he declared. "Of course, first we must render you unconscious so that you won't know where it is being put. If you knew, you would most likely try everything you could to get it out."

"You're most likely right." Mike glared at them both as they approached. "Did you do this to Peter too?" he demanded.

"Not yet," Marcovich replied. "First we are trying some...other methods with him." He smiled. "However, if he proves to be difficult, he most certainly will end up with one."

"Peter wouldn't stand for this!" Mike yelled as Marcovich began preparing the anesthesia. "He'd fight it, the same way I'm going to! And when we get out of here, the both of you are probably going to end up in the chair!" But Marcovich only began cackling madly, as he was prone to do, and Mike looked up at the ceiling ruefully.

At that moment, without warning, the door was thrown open and nearly torn off its hinges. Everyone looked up, staring in shock and disbelief as Mugsy and Peter came into the room. "Mike!" Peter exclaimed, immediately hurrying over to him. Mike tensed at first, remembering all too well how Peter had behaved the last time Mike had seen him, but then he saw that his friend now seemed to be in his right mind.

"What is this?!" Marcovich demanded, not certain whether to be furious or confused. Mugsy promptly punched him, sending him flying backward into the instrument table. "What did you do to Tony?" he growled, lifting up the struggling doctor and shoving him against the wall. "Tell me how to help him!" His eyes were burning, clearly showing that he would not offer any mercy if there was not a way to heal Tony from the doctors' cruel devices.

Marcovich continued to squirm desperately, feeling nervous in the grasp of this strong man. "Mendoza! Do something!" he yelled, trying to pry Mugsy's hands away from his lab coat and wondering how the two prisoners had managed to get out of the holding area.

"I'm busy right now!" Mendoza shot back. "Where is Groot?!" He ran at Peter, clutching a hypodermic needle, and Mike only barely managed to call out a warning in time for Peter to dive out of the way. Unfortunately, Mendoza was not able to stop himself quickly enough and the needle jabbed into Mike's shoulder. Wide-eyed, Mendoza backed away, at first not entirely believing what he had done. But then he laughed, setting the empty device down and crossing his arms.

Peter turned back, staring in horror as he watched Mike struggle against the chains. The Texan gasped, unable to believe the pain and the pressure that was coursing through his body. It was overwhelming him, crowding out all of his other thoughts until he could hear nothing else but an insistent wailing echoing through the chambers of his mind, and to see nothing else except a blur of twisting and turning colors. Then, as he continued to strain against the bonds, the screaming in his mind became more pronounced. He could make out words and commands, telling him exactly what he had to do in order to make the voices and the colors go away and to be normal again. He had to attack anything and anyone—it did not matter who, even if it was his friends. He cried out in protest, straining against the wicked orders, and yet he felt his body starting to move against his will. Somehow he was free now, and he could hear another voice somewhere outside of his head. He would have to follow that voice and then attack.

No! he yelled frantically, though he could not be heard. Stop it! I don't want to do this! But try as he might, the noise was drowning him out and he could not fight against it.

Mendoza smirked as he undid the last of Mike's manacles and watched him move forward, his brown eyes cold and heartless. "Yes! This is what I want to see!" he crowed. "This is fascinating! You see how easily I can control another's very actions? People are so weak! They will do anything to avoid pain!"

"That's not true!" Peter wailed, diving behind a table before Mike could get at him. "You did this to me, too, and it wasn't like I was trying to not get hurt! I just couldn't even think straight!" He looked back to his friend desperately. "Mike! You can't do this!" he pleaded. "It's me, Peter! I know it's really hard to listen to anything but the sounds in your head, but you have to try!" He smiled weakly. "I was able to stop myself before I attacked you and the others, because I knew that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I hurt any of you, and you, and Davy, and Micky were all calling to me, trying to get through to me. And it worked!" He remained where he was as Mike grew closer, picking up the abandoned scalpel on his way. "I know you can do this, Mike!"

Mike glowered at him, apparently not having comprehended any of it. But somewhere, deep in his mind, he could hear that other voice trying to speak to him. He could not make out the words, but he knew that the person was a friend, someone who was concerned about him, and he struggled with all his might to concentrate on that voice instead of the demonic tones still reverberating through his mind and trying to force him to attack. At last, he managed to get enough control over his body in order to force himself to stop moving.

Peter broke into a grin, relief washing over him. "I knew you could do it, Mike!" he exclaimed, rushing to his friend. "You're going to be okay!"

Mendoza did not look fazed. "There is a long way to go yet, Mr. Tork," he said firmly. "You are both still in my world, and I control your fates."

"Mendoza!"

Everyone turned to look at Marcovich's angry cry. He was still being held up against the wall by Mugsy, and while Marcovich was beginning to look panicked, Mugsy was obviously furious.

"Do something about this!" Marcovich screamed, trying in vain to kick the mobster. Instead he was punched again.

Mendoza watched in amusement. "It's not any use, Mr. Ruckyzer," he said smoothly to Mugsy. "Tony can't be helped, and before long, you will be under my control once again. Now, let Doctor Marcovich go." Now he was speaking in a quiet, soothing voice, and Peter watched him nervously.

"I don't believe that he can't be helped!" Mugsy retorted. "You did something to him, and you've gotta know how to fix it!" He threw Marcovich down harshly onto the floor. "I'm not afraid of either of you!"

"You should be," Marcovich growled, wincing from the smart of the fall. "But why are you so terribly concerned over what happens to Tony? It doesn't pay to worry over anyone's safety except your own, and I was certain that gangsters such as yourself would subscribe to that truth." He started to get up again, but Mugsy immediately forced him back down.

"I don't think that's your business!" Mugsy retorted.

"We can make it our business!" Mendoza smiled wickedly.

Peter swallowed hard, not liking the sound of any of this. He could see that Mike was still not back to normal, even though he had stopped himself from attacking, and Peter had the sinking feeling that things were going to get much worse before they could ever get better.

****

Baby Face was roaming the halls angrily, fury obvious in his eyes. It seemed to him that he had been there for hours just wandering in circles, and he had long ago had enough. It was likely that if anyone had come up to him at that point and said or did something stupid, he would have completely snapped. But luckily for any such unfortunate souls, none of them crossed paths with the mobster as he wandered around another corner.

He wondered idly what had happened to the others. It seemed likely to him that the British Monkee was probably still making eyes at Mendoza's daughter, and the others were probably still standing around waiting for him. It disgusted him, that Davy had to be so lovesick all the time that he would end up getting everyone else into trouble. He wondered how the others put up with it. He certainly would not.

Of course, going off without them had not proved fruitful either. And Tony had been acting so strangely...Baby Face believed what his associate had said about the torture, though he was not certain exactly how the doctors would engineer punishment when the victim was not even near them. But Tony had obviously not felt well at all, and he had grown worse as time had gone on. Baby Face did not know when they had become separated, but he wondered if Tony would even be able to travel once he was found again.

Suddenly becoming aware of a voice up ahead, he narrowed his eyes and backed into a nearby nook to overhear. He soon recognized the voice as belonging to Helena, and she seemed to be speaking into a cellular phone.

"Of course, Groot," she was saying in a calm tone. "I'll come right down and set you free. I warned you that they weren't likely to stay in the cells for long. Father was just waiting for them to try a jailbreak." She sighed softly, listening to Groot for a moment. "Yes, he's been being tortured, just as Father was hoping. He should be alright for the next while, though. Father said that he wanted to see how long things would go on, so the chip wouldn't cause trouble constantly. It goes dormant every hour or so, but everytime it comes on again, the pain is worse." There was another pause. "Of course! It's working like a charm. Davy's completely enamored. Don't worry, Groot. I'll let you out and then go find Davy and Micky again."

Baby Face growled low as she hung up the phone and as her footsteps faded away down another corridor. From what he had heard, she sounded like she was working with her father, which made sense to him. But Davy would never believe that. Helena was likely to be everyone's downfall.

He turned to leave, but then suddenly realized that the nook was occupied. He had been so intensely involved in listening to Helena that he had not stopped to look at the shelf in the darkened area. Now he saw that Tony was sitting up and slumped into the corner of it. His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. Feeling exasperated, Baby Face grabbed his shoulder and shook him roughly. "Hey!" he hissed when Tony started and looked up at him. "What are you doing here—dying?"

Tony looked at him in annoyance. "No," he grumbled. He had simply started to doze once the pain had entirely subsided, as the exhaustion had then washed over him like a blanket. Now he forced himself to sit up straight and then eased himself to the floor, using the wall as support. He stumbled, and Baby Face cursed as he grabbed for him.

"We have to get out of here," Micky's double declared then. "That girl who was fooling around with the British Monkee isn't on our side."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I should've guessed."

Baby Face looked him up and down. "Can you walk?" he growled. "I'm not going to carry you."

"I'd be dead before I'd let you," Tony retorted. "I'm fine." He took a few cautious steps forward and found that he seemed to be alright for the moment. But that was how things had been going—he would suffer intense pain for an hour or more, then be so weakened that he would not be able to get up, and then finally have enough strength to move around again for a while.

Baby Face watched him, nodding approvingly, and then glared down the darkened hall as a loud howl echoed up and down the stone corridor. "I wish I had my gun," he grumbled.

"For once, I wish you did too," Tony answered dryly.