Chapter 7

by Lucky Lady Bug
Rated PG

As Peter desperately tried to ease Mike down the hall, with Mugsy stumbling after them, he suddenly heard frantic footsteps running toward their location. Immediately he tensed, afraid of who might be approaching. "Micky? Davy?" he called hopefully.

But it was Helena who ran over to the trio. "Peter!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hands. "Oh! Your friends have been so worried!"

Peter was terribly confused, not having met Helena before and only vaguely remembering her from the previous time when they had been at this location. "Do you know where Micky and Davy are?" he asked, blushing at the attention she was giving to him. He wanted to ask who she was, but since she seemed to know him, he was afraid that the question would offend her.

"Of course!" Helena asserted. "They were just telling me how worried they are because of how you tried to attack them. They want to find you before anything more happens." Peter cringed, feeling sickened at the remembrance of his previous actions.

Mike frowned, recalling Helena through the fog over his mind. He had not been impressed with her before, and he still was not. She was trying to get Peter to believe that she was safe to be around, but it was likely that she was the enemy. In frustration Mike clenched a fist, struggling to get control of his body.

"Hey, she's Mendoza's daughter!" Mugsy yelled then. Helena had bothered Tony before the Monkees had ended up here, and Mugsy knew that his friend did not like her. While she was not as forward as Vivalene, she had made several inappropriate advances towards Tony and he had flatly refused her. Mugsy could only hope that she would not prove to be as vindictive as Vivalene. Tony had enough trouble without that.

Peter turned to stare. "She is?" he gasped, not wanting to believe it.

"That's right!" Mike cried then, tearing free of the mind control drug with a shudder. "We can't trust her!"

She gave him an angry look before turning back to Peter. "But I'm working against my father!" she protested. "Peter, I only want to help all of you escape!"

Mugsy glowered at her. "Oh yeah, she'd help you escape—for a price," he said vehemently. "She gave Tony that same ultimatum, but he said no. The part about her helping you get away probably isn't true anyway. She just wants to have her way with someone!"

Peter stared at him, alarmed at the implication. "You mean...?"

"He's lying, Peter!" Helena wailed. "He wants to turn you against me!" She pushed past Mugsy and gripped Peter's shirt as she looked into his eyes. "He's just a mobster. You can't trust him. Do you really think I'm that kind of a girl?"

Peter felt overwhelmed. "Well, I . . . I don't really know you," he stammered, looking to Mike for help, "and I don't know why Mugsy would be lying about you. There wouldn't be a reason for that!" But he knew that there was a reason why Helena might be lying. He hated to pass judgement on anyone, but he had to wonder if Mugsy was the one telling the truth and Helena was falsifying everything. The Monkees had been forced to work with the gangsters in the past, and today Mugsy had acted civil around Peter—save for the times when he had been under the influence of the mind control. He frankly seemed more trustworthy than the girl standing there, pleading to be believed, and yet Peter hated to say that she was lying, in case she was not.

"Of course there's a reason!" Helena retorted. "My father is forcing him to speak against me or be tortured! He and the others brought you here, didn't they?" She looked urgently at Peter, certain that she could weaken any resolve he had to disbelieve her.

Peter swallowed hard. "Well, yes," he admitted, "but I don't think he's being mind controlled right now!" And yet he knew that he actually could not be certain. He glanced over at Mugsy, who was trying to support himself against the wall and looking furious.

"I'm not!" he snapped.

"Okay, okay, leave him alone!" Mike ordered, breaking into the conversation and frowning at Helena. "I really don't trust you, and neither does Mugsy here. Now, Peter just doesn't know what to think about you, because he's the kind of person who doesn't like to think badly of anyone. And that's just what you're depending on, isn't it? You figure you can get him to trust you real easily! Well, I think that's pretty low."

"That's not true!" Helena cried. Peter felt uncomfortable. "Maybe no one's the bad guy here," he suggested. "Maybe we're all just being suspicious of each other when we shouldn't be." He would rather that this was the case rather than that Helena was not trustworthy at all, or that Mugsy was deliberately trying to mislead Peter, but he did not know what to think. He wished that Mike could come up with positive proof for his answer, so that he would know what to believe, but he knew that there was not any positive proof that could be given. They would have to struggle to decide what was the truth themselves—or rather, Peter would have to. Mike had already made up his mind.

Mike blew out his breath in frustration. "Now, Peter, that's just what she wants you to think!" he scolded. "If you believe that she's on the level, then you're falling into her trap! And she's already got Davy in it." He crossed his arms angrily and looked back to Helena. "Where are they, anyway? You said you'd just seen them."

"I did!" Helena answered angrily. "We split up again to look for you two. I certainly haven't done anything to them, and I don't appreciate the insinuation that I have!" She started to storm off ahead of the others down the hall. "I'll take you back to where I last saw Micky and Davy and we'll go from there, but only if you stop with these accusations!" She was certain that this would get them in her snare. They would not be able to take the chance that she was lying, not when they wanted to find the others before the mad scientists got to them.

"You can't go after her," Mugsy objected, seeing Mike and Peter's distressed and conflicted expressions. "Come on, you can't be so dumb as to not see that it's what she wants! Either she doesn't have any idea where they are, or she does and she'll lead you to where they've been trapped or something! Then you'll get caught too!"

Mike clenched a fist. "I know that's very likely the case," he replied, "but what can we do? Maybe if we stay on our guard, and don't trust her, we'll be alright. If we could find where the others are, and they really have been caught, we could make plans on how to get them out and then make a break for it!" But he knew that he was speaking idealistically and that it likely would not happen. All of them were pawns in the doctors' game, and it was likely that they were always being watched and observed. Mendoza and Marcovich probably knew everything that their captives were planning and hence, were able to think of strategies to thwart the plans.

"Oh, you know that won't happen," Mugsy retorted, feeling the drug trying to get its hold on his senses again. He grimaced, struggling to stay in control of himself.

"We have to try something," Peter protested. "Helena knows her way around here better than we do. We've been getting completely lost trying to go through this place on our own!"

Mike frowned, shaking his head. "That's true," he admitted at last.

"She'll keep getting you guys lost, on purpose!" Mugsy put in.

But eventually, against all of their better judgement, they cautiously followed Helena.

****

Micky swallowed hard as Doctor Mendoza entered the room. Abruptly the lights came on and he blinked rapidly at the sudden change. As the mad scientist came into focus, Micky felt his anger building. "Alright, Doctor Mendoza!" he cried as he shakily got to his feet and struck a dramatic pose. "On behalf of myself and my friends and associates, I'm here to diplomatically request that you set us all free!"

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "That will never work," he frowned.

"I know," Micky shrugged helplessly, "but I have to try something."

Doctor Mendoza started to laugh. "Ah, you never fail to amuse me!" he declared, and clapped his hands. "Now, we should get to work." Quickly he shut the door behind him and advanced further into the room.

Micky watched him suspiciously, subconsciously backing up. "Work?!" he repeated, not liking the sound of that. Images of horrifying surgeries danced through his mind, and he wished that he had not watched the Vincent Price marathon on TV last week.

"Yes, work." Doctor Mendoza stopped in front of Micky and gently pushed him down onto the floor, then sat in front of him. "I want you to tell me about yourself—your hopes, your fears, your dreams. . . ."

Micky gawked at him. "Huh?!" he gasped, and looked to Harry, who was frowning darkly.

"He probably injected you with a truth serum before bringing you in here," the mobster declared. "It'll take affect before long, and you won't be able to do anything about it."

"Truth serum?!" Micky repeated indignantly. "So that's your game!" He leaped to his feet, moving away from Doctor Mendoza and hoping to reach the door. "You're going to have to find a different guinea pig for this!" Harry stood up as well, but he did not look confident that they would be able to escape. And indeed, even as Micky spoke, he suddenly felt himself growing dizzy. Before he could do anything about it, his legs gave out from underneath him and he started to sink to the floor. Harry caught him, staring down at him grimly, and wondered if there was even the slightest chance that he could overpower Mendoza and make a run for it with the dazed Monkee. It did not seem likely, but he knew that he had to try.

"Alright," Mendoza was saying now as he walked over to them, "let me question Micky now. You know how it goes. I did the same thing with you yesterday, Harry."

Harry glared at him. He did not want to resign himself to the inevitable. He would not subdue himself, just as he knew that Tony and the others would not. "That's the last time you do it to any of us," he retorted, and punched Mendoza on the jaw before running to the door and shoving Micky ahead of him. "The door isn't locked right now," he told the Monkee. "We might have a chance."

Micky tried to focus, blinking away the haze and fog from his vision as he stumbled forward. "Okay," he mumbled, but then noticed something strange about the door. It almost sounded to him as if it was vibrating. "Hey, something doesn't sound right," he frowned.

"When I came in, I set up the electric barrier on the door," Mendoza smiled in delight, not seeming to be badly affected from the punch Harry had delivered. "I'm afraid you don't have any way out. You either have to deal with me, or die."

Harry studied the door, realizing that Mendoza was right. The hum of the electricity was very obvious now that he was only several feet away, and if Micky had not pointed out that something sounded strange, Harry knew that he might very well have gone right to the door and ended up electrocuted.

Micky frowned, turning back to Mendoza. It was likely that the doctor had the remote control which operated the door in his pocket. If they could somehow get hold of it, then they might be able to leave the room. The only problem was, he did not know if he would be able to stay aware enough to do anything about it. The truth serum was getting a stronger hold over him, and he was suffering an overwhelming desire to simply lay down.

"Hey, come on," Micky frowned, his words being slurred from the drug, "you can't treat us like this!"

"I already am!" Mendoza crowed. "Now, tell me, Mr. Dolenz, is it true that you actually do not have a lot of self-confidence?" He smirked. "You won't be able to lie to me about it. You actually are quite insecure, aren't you, in spite of your usual levity and jokes."

Micky swallowed hard. He wanted with all of his heart to deny the claim, but the truth serum did not make it possible. "Yes," he admitted softly. "It's true. I can't get all the girls like Davy can...I can't even really get one girl! And I don't have the confidence or the skills to lead us like Mike does." His shoulders slumped, and inwardly he was yelling at himself for allowing Doctor Mendoza to know his deepest feelings, but there was not anything he could do.

"Good, good!" Mendoza rubbed his hands together. "Now we are beginning to make progress! Soon I will turn your worst fears against you."

At that moment Harry managed to grab him from behind, wrestling him into submission as he forced the physician's arms behind his back. "Get the remote!" he yelled to Micky, even as Mendoza continued to struggle against his grip.

"Remote?" Micky said vaguely as he moved forward to search through Mendoza's pockets. He found quite a few surgical instruments, spare glasses, and a yo-yo before at last coming upon a rectangular box and pulling it out. Aiming it at the door, he pressed the red button and waited until he heard a buzzing sound. "Okay, babe, we're home free!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward and opening the door.

Harry punched Mendoza again and then followed, shutting the door behind him.

Micky did not realize that things were not at all as he believed. Doctor Mendoza smirked as he watched the Monkee wandering around the room, believing himself to be in the hallway. "Fascinating, fascinating!" the doctor purred, crossing his arms. "He is completely under my control and he doesn't realize it!" He turned to smirk at Harry. "And you can't get him to hear you, either. He will never come to understand that he has been in the room all the time and that he is suffering from terrible hallucinations."

Harry was not impressed, but knowing that there was not anything he could do, he remained silent.

****

Davy began to regain consciousness hearing a steady stream of profanity. As he opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to focus, he saw Micky on the other side of the room, swearing and cursing as he looked for some way to get out. In confusion the British Monkee sat up, watching him for a moment later before speaking.

"Hey, Micky, what's the deal?" he exclaimed. "You don't talk like that!" Then, as he fully woke up, realization dawned on him and he gulped, his eyes widening as Baby Face stormed over to him.

"You're right—Micky doesn't!" he snapped, pointing his forefinger at Davy in emphasis. "But I'm not Micky!"

Davy remained tense, seeing that the crime lord was in a very bad mood. "No, you're certainly not," he said with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, I can see that now. I...I just wasn't thinking."

Baby Face waved a hand at him in a dismissive manner and turned to walk away, muttering to himself. He was not furious enough to attack Davy at the moment. Right now all he wanted was to get out of the room they were locked in, and it did not look as though that was going to happen.

"So," Davy said uncomfortably, "how did you get here?" Then he paused, frowning. "For that matter, how did I get here?! I was walking down a hall with Micky when the lights went out!"

Baby Face turned back and glared at him. "You got knocked out, you idiot! So did I! I fell through a trapdoor." He threw up his hands in frustration. "I don't know what happened to Tony! Probably the same thing, and he just ended up in a different room!"

"Wait, you saw Tony?" Davy exclaimed. "How was he? He seemed really bad off when Micky and I found him before." He shuddered, remembering how Tony had insisted that they go and find their friends. Davy had not wanted to leave him when he had been in such an ill condition, but eventually he and Micky had reluctantly gone on ahead. He still wondered if that had been the right thing to do, since they had not located Mike or Peter anyway. And now he was captured again!

Baby Face growled. "He was okay," he answered. "At least he was walking." He started to pace around the room restlessly. He could not stand being trapped this way. The one thing he hated more than being caged was being at the mercy of someone who would go to no expense to completely humiliate and break him. His guardians had been that way, and he was not prepared to stand for it any longer. He was feeling an acute combination of rage and panic, especially when the door opened and Marcovich stepped inside.

"Good evening," he smiled, looking from Davy to Baby Face as he quickly shut the door and charged it with electricity. "I trust that your stay here has been pleasant so far?"

Baby Face cursed him vilely and immediately lunged, and Davy watched nervously, then in horror, as Marcovich reached out his hand to stop him and sent the mobster falling back, screaming in pain. Marcovich then proceeded to cackle maniacally and was about to clap his hands when he thought better of it.

"What did you do to him?!" Davy gasped, finally managing to get to his feet.

"It's a new device I've been developing," Marcovich said with glee. "It fits right in my palm, and gives anyone who has contact with me a dastardly electric shock!"

Davy gawked at him. "You mean like a buzzer?!" he said in disbelief.

"Oh, much more painful!" Marcovich crowed, watching as Baby Face stumbled to his feet. "I will use it to keep you in line." He walked over to the gangster, smirking and taking hold of his arm with his other hand. "Now, you will tell me all about yourself. I want to get at the heart of your temper. I want to know what fuels your anger. And I want to know what you fear the most."

Baby Face twisted his arm away, cursing him again as he lunged. He rammed his fist into Marcovich's stomach and watched in satisfaction as the man doubled over in pain. Then Baby Face attacked again and again, while Davy stared in astonishment. It looked as though the gangster was getting the upper hand—at least until Marcovich turned around without warning and plunged a knife into Baby Face's shoulder before anything could be done to stop him.

The mobster hissed in pain, staggering back as he tried to pull the weapon out, and Marcovich cackled in delight as he advanced and grabbed Baby Face's wrist with the hand that held the electrically charged device. Baby Face screamed as the power was channeled through the knife, and he slowly crumpled to the floor in agony.

Furious now, Davy ran forward and grabbed Marcovich from behind. "That's enough of that!" he said indignantly. "Not even someone like Baby Face Morales deserves this kind of treatment!" He struggled to get his hands around the front of Marcovich's shoulders to force him back. "Just leave him alone!"

Marcovich staggered back under the added weight, and reached up to grip Davy's wrists and throw him aside, but he did not seem angry at all. On the contrary, he was still engaged in a mad fit of cackling. "He's becoming incensed!" he cried. "He is completely losing control of himself, just as he always does!" With that he straightened up, throwing Davy to the floor, and met Baby Face head-on as the criminal struggled up again. "Yes, yes!" the mad doctor exclaimed. "Attack me with everything you've got!"

It did not seem to bother him that Baby Face had pulled the knife out of his shoulder and was preparing to stab him. Gleefully Marcovich grabbed the blade, charging electricity through it again and not caring that he was being cut in the process.

Davy shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the screams. I wish we were anywhere else! he moaned silently, and wondered if they would ever get out of this alive. Then he forced himself to think positively and got up to attack Marcovich again, even though he knew it would likely be fruitless.