Hostage | Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Twenty-One

Jake

Confusion and intrigue hits me like a ton of bricks as I make eye contact with Pimento, who simply nods his head curtly, so I turn my head to Rosa, expecting some kind of explanation. "I brought Adrian in a few days after Fawn told the squad that Freddy had been threatening her, knowing that we'd need someone on the inside in case anything went askew. After explaining my intentions to Captain Holt, he gave me permission to assign Pimento an undercover mission to work with Freddy and find out more information."

Before I can stop myself, I pull Rosa in a tight embrace and I squeeze my arms tightly around her. I feel her twinge uncomfortably, but as I go to pull away, her arms wrap around my back and return the embrace. "Thank you," I whisper, blinking back a few tears as I unwrap my arms and turn back to face Pimento, trying to focus and concentrate on the situation at hand. "Right, tell me everything about your undercover mission Pimento."

"Well, I joined Freddy's 'team', if you will, a few months ago when Rosa brought me in and made me aware that she thought someone going undercover would be beneficial. I managed to work my way through the ranks quickly and I was able to not only work alongside Freddy, but I was able to find out where they're keeping your friend, Fawn," he explains and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders; there is finally a way that we might be able to find Fawn.

"Great, how do you know where she is?" I ask, eager to find out more information, but when Pimento glances to Rosa and back, I feel that huge weight fall back on my shoulders. "I know where she is because the last time I was there, I was put in charge of... torturing her."

My heart drops.

"What... what kind of torture?" I snap, my voice getting angrier and more panicked by the second, "what are they doing to her? What did YOU do to her?!" He doesn't answer. "TELL ME!" I shout as I lunge forward at Pimento, but Rosa clutches onto my arm and pulls me back, holding me back. 

"Jake, I didn't hurt her badly," Pimento confesses, "at least not as badly as they've done to her. I can't tell you what they're doing to her because you might lash out, believe me, I've made that mistake before. I assure you, I did as little as I could and I told her that help is coming." I try to calm myself down, inhaling and exhaling heavily, my chest moving up and down with my breathing. 

"But you know where she is?" I ask, begging Pimento to tell me the truth. 

He nods.

"I know where she is."

-

Fawn

Two weeks prior

I spit out another slob of saliva, the taste metallic and sickening from the small trace of blood inside. A trail of blood trickles down my cheek, past my mouth down to my chin, small droplets falling off my face. My hair is stuck to my forehead and my cheeks, stuck to the sweat. My wrists are shackled tightly and the chains rise to the roof, holding my body up off the floor, my toes barely able to sense the feel of the ground; the same kind of shackles are locked around my ankles. It hurts to keep my eyes open and my lips are so dry that if I try to lick them, I wince and draw back my tongue.

I've been locked in the same concrete, windowless room for however long I've been here. I can't tell because there's no sunlight anywhere, just one singular light bulb in the ceiling, but at least two months must have passed by now. There are no cameras anywhere inside the room; if there are no cameras, there's no evidence of their deeds.

They don't stop.

They won't stop.

All that happens in here is torture, interrogations, more torture and then... they fix me up, bandage and plaster me, just so they can continue doing it. They keep me alive, barely, on crusts of bread and sips of water; they deplete my energy and my strength, so it becomes harder for me to fight back. But they can never break me mentally. I've been thoroughly trained to know how I can prevent that, yet it doesn't stop them from trying. Crowbars, water-boarding, whipping, straight up punching and beating, they try to break me in any way possible with any way they know how.

My ears prick up at the muffled sound of a door unlocking and when I look up, I see a different man walk inside the room. He has a head of curly black hair with a beard to match, dressed in all black: black trousers, black shoes and a black shirt. There is not an ounce of emotion behind his eyes. I watch as he makes his way towards me, never breaking eye contact with him, not even when our noses are practically touching.

Then, his stoic body language and facial expressions melt away. He relaxes and gently places his hand on my shoulder, which makes me think that he is trying to manipulate me. But my confused thoughts disappear almost instantly when he opens his mouth.

"My name is Adrian Pimento," he whispers in a calm and kind tone, "I'm with the Nine-Nine, help is coming."

A short gasp leaves my lips. 

The Nine-Nine. 

They didn't give up.

They didn't give up on me.

"Jake?" I manage to croak out, praying that he is alright. Pimento assures me that Jake is okay and I feel my entire body relax; my hands no longer clutch the chains attached to my shackles and I no longer feel defensive. "Thank you," I whisper and Pimento simply nods, a hesitancy hiding behind his eyes. 

"It's okay, go ahead," I mumble, my voice hoarse and parched, "you can't blow your cover. I can take it." A small sigh leaves his lips as he takes a few steps back, raises his arms and tightens his hands into fists. The last thing I do is nod my head before he leans back, aims and strikes.