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Paying the driver with a handsome tip, the young blond man alighted the cab

Faith

by Lush

 

Rating: NC-17

Summary: This story is intended to take place in their very early years on the run.  One member of the Team is in desperate trouble when a scam turns bad.

Warnings: Violence, strong language, attempted rape, reference only to non-con abuse of minors, adult situations.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Guys but I enjoy dreaming that I do.

 

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Paying the driver and adding a decent tip, the young blond man alighted from the cab.  Searching the shadows further down the road, he picked the outline of the black van.  The Guys were already in place as back up.  Face's anxiety eased a little at having the Team close.  He didn't like this part of town, preferring the more up market areas of the city.  The run down and dilapidated whare houses near the waterfront gave it an unwelcome seedy atmosphere.  He wasn't here by choice but out of necessity. 

 

Father Magill had brought the case to the A-Team's attention.  The victims were mainly young people, street kids that apparently no body gave a damn about.  Father Magill showed them some of the end results and they saw the shattered hollow eyes staring into nothing. The Team intended to take the sleazy bastards down and put an end to their sordid activities.  These arseholes filmed what they did to the kids, selling the explicit videos on the black market at considerable profit.  The whole Team was unanimous about ending this sick and twisted so-called entertainment.  BA was the most vocal, ranting how the ugly suckas where going to pay more than dearly.

 

Using the guise of Peter Tanner, Face had earlier met with a contact from the sinister organisation and Dylan Pender was only too pleased to arrange a further meeting with his bosses.  Information gleaned from Pender indicated that this particular whare house was the base of operations. 

 

The Conman approached the building's entrance set back amidst the shadows.  The immediate area was still and quiet.  He felt once again for the concealed transmitter in the lining of his jacket and felt comforted by its small presence.  This was one of BA's more brilliant ideas and Face silently thanked his big friend.  The Guys back in the van would hear the scam going down and come to his aide if it turned bad.  Honed skills listened and watched intently for any movement.  Exercising caution paid off as he sensed a presence before it melded from darkness to escort him in through the door.  Pender had obviously told them to expect him.

 

The interior of the whare house was dimly lit, it's full expanse lost in the gloom.   The near corner, Face noted had bright spotlights and a couple of video cameras placed strategically around the bed.  This was the place and Face's trepidation increased.

 

"Peter Tanner, I presume?"  A deep voice boomed and Faced turned to greet the new comer.  A tall, muscular man strode into the light and drew near.

 

"Ah, yes.  Sam Simpson, I'm…"  Face smiled and stuck out his hand to shake.  He was cut off sharply before he began the scam.

 

The huge man unexpectedly slammed him backwards violently into the wall using his superior weight to keep the slighter man pinned.  A thick forearm constricting Peck's windpipe choked off any call for help.  He struggled to draw enough breath.

 

Face was forced to gag upon rancid stale breath as the big ugly brute gripped his jaw with bruising pressure.  Simpson turned the smaller man's face back and forth with a lascivious leer.  Face eyed his captor with defiance and saw evil cruelty glinting back.  He tried to shove the bigger man away only to have the breath from his lungs forcibly expelled as he was quashed further into the wall.

 

"Pender was right. This one is young…a real altar boy."  Simpson called out over his shoulder.  He sneered as he addressed Face, "You ever starred in a gangbang, boy?"

 

In his peripheral vision, Face saw other men emerge from darkened recesses.  Their lustful smirks sent shivers through his substance.    Panic rose up, he was not going to let it happen this time.  He braced a foot against the wall and attempted a second time to lever the bulkier man off to no avail.  The Lieutenant thrust the heel of his palm upwards into the nose.  Blood exploded with an agonised howl.  Beefy hands wound roughly in the lapels of his jacket, hauled him forwards and slammed him savagely back again.  His head bounced off the concrete and left him in a daze.  Someone yelled to start the video rolling.

 

Fingers entwined painfully in his hair and wrenched his head back.  A mouth crushed against his and a tongue forced it's way in.  The foul breath mixed with the coppery taste of blood caused his stomach a nauseating churn.  Recovering enough sense, Face bit the invading appendage and spat bloody salvia at his attacker.

 

Thick fingers squeezed about Face's throat, telling him he'd pay for that.  The man delivered a rocking blow that split his lip.  It was immediately followed up by a stunning backhand.  Peck was almost senseless again and red trailed from his cheek, nose and lip.

 

He was manhandled over to the corner to the jeer of wolf whistles.  Simpson's hairy arm held Face firm in front of him, his free hand roving the younger man's body at will.  Cheers and catcalls erupted as his meaty hand reached down to roughly grope Face's groin through the fabric of his trousers.  Face could feel the other's straining erection as it was rubbed up his backside.

 

"Who wants a piece of this sweet arse?"  The vulgar question was answered with derisive whoops.

 

Face rallied his wits once more and with as much strength as he could, stomped heavily on a foot.  Another raging bellow tore from the muscled man.  Other hands grasped him and forced him to the ground rending the clothes from his body.  Peck kicked out viciously at anything and yelled in frustration.  He was hopelessly out numbered.  Fists rained blow upon blow on his body, pummelling him into submission.

 

The sound of a solid vehicle crashing through wooden doors accompanied by automatic gunfire rent the air.  It was a welcome noise amidst the chaos and confusion.  Hannibal's voice ordered everybody onto the floor.  The last Face remembered was a feeling of overwhelming relief.

 

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Awareness returned slowly sometime later as he lay in the comfort of a bed while warm sunlight fell across the bed through a window.  Face cast his eyes about the room and found his three Team Mates waiting for him to wake.  He attempted shifting to a more comfortable position but jarred multiple aches causing him to hiss through gritted teeth.  The binding firmly wrapping his chest didn't ease the discomfort he felt.

 

"Take it easy, Kid.  You're safe now. You've got a couple of broken ribs, so try not to move."  The Colonel placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder to prevent any further movement.  "Father Magill won't be too pleased with me if I let you strain anything further.  He'll be dropping by later to check on you."

 

Face heeded his CO's warning and settled back onto soft pillows.  He knew from experience Father Magill usually brooked no nonsense.

 

Hannibal examined the Lieutenant's face decorated with colourful bruising and small white bandaids across cuts and grazes.  The Kid wouldn't be dating anytime soon.  The Colonel's fury flared again as he remembered the condition the young man was left in after the attack.  He didn't begrudge BA using extra force on the sleazes.

 

"What about the slime balls?"  Face managed a hoarse rasp from his abused throat.

 

"Hey, don't ya worry about nothin', Faceman."  BA's tone was kind almost gentle before the anger took over, "The Mudsucka's are in police custody.  They gonna pay for what they did to those kids!  An' I made 'em pay for what they tried to do to you."

 

"Yeah, there was plenty of incriminating evidence in the whare house.  They'll be in jail for a very long time."  Hannibal finished off.

 

The young man nodded in acknowledgement and breathed a sigh.

 

"You know, Colonel.  I just don't understand why those Scumbags couldn't make some good ol' fashioned cartoons.  You know, ones like Atom Ant or George of the Jungle."  Murdock seriously pondered the idea but then his face lit up, "Or they could have even made some shows like Lance Link Secret Chimp, with those cute little chimpanzees all dressed up and …"

 

"Shut up, Fool!"  BA snapped.  "We don't wanna be hearing about no crazy chimps!"

 

Face graced his three friends with a brilliant smile even though bruising and cuts marred the smile.  His belief in the Team had never wavered; he knew they would come to his aid.  Sure they got on one another's nerves occasionally but they would always be there for each other when it mattered.

 

He placed his faith in that knowledge.

 

 

The End.

 


Faith by Lush

 

 


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