When Face slowly began to come to, he didn't feel anything at first, but it wasn't long before a wave of pain washed over him, first in his head and then in his body. After a few moments as he struggled with the pain, hoping it would pass, the Lieutenant tried to open his eyes and when he suddenly remembered what brought him to this point, Face silently cursed himself, not only because he had been shot, but also for allowing himself to be caught by his enemies.
Once he finally was able to open his eyes, he was able to see very little as only a little light was shining from above, a small lamp hanging down from the ceiling. Face looked down as he felt along his chest and stomach, quickly realizing that his kevlar vest had been removed so that his bullet wound could be treated, though the bandages were crudely wrapped, the wound itself still bleeding, though the flow had slowed to nothing more than a trickle.
Upon looking around him, he found that he was lying down on a cot like bed attached to the wall beside him, his leg and wrists being chained so that he couldn't move far, not that there was much space to move as the room itself was tiny. It was obvious to him that he was in a detaining cell in the hull of some kind of ship.
As the young soldier thought back to one of his nightmares from earlier, he realized his holding cell was feeling oddly familiar and he spoke quietly to himself, "Talk about déjà vu."
Face didn't have to wait long before his thoughts were interrupted as the door to the room opened and his captor stood before his prisoner, a smug, arrogant look upon his face as he said cruelly, "It's good to see you again, Peck. And welcome to my humble abode."
"I can't say much for your decorator, Lynch," Face retorted as he weakly sat up and glared back at the cocky, self-centered ex CIA stooge. "You're lucky, your aim has improved, or at least you thought your plan of attack through this time."
"Armor piercing rounds," Face continued upon looking down at his stomach while he touched his hand to the wound, removed it and held it up as he returned his gaze at the man before him. "I'm impressed, but if you think that by capturing me and using me as bait to capture or kill Hannibal and the rest of my friends, you'll end up sorely disappointed."
Vance chuckled as he slowly walked further into the room and stood over the youngest member of the A-Team, then smiled as he responded, "You don't seem too sure that your friends will come for you? And I thought that the four of you moved as one, that the infamous A-Team shared some kind of unshakable bond that made it impossible for their enemies to break them. It appears we were both mistaken then. You're weak…"
Face interrupted, "Only physically, but I'm not cocky and proud like you. Your fondness for yourself is what got you defeated by us the first time and are now nothing more than a fugitive."
"I'm not a fugitive," the former agent replied coldly as he knelt to come down to his captive's face level. "I'm working for the U.S. army to bring you, Hannibal, Captain Murdock, and Baracus in. Being alive or dead is fully up to you. You know, I have to say that that attack you four used against me at the shipping docks certainly came as a surprise. I didn't see it coming. It didn't seem like one of Hannibal's usual tricks."
"That's because it wasn't Hannibal's plan, it was mine," Face answered with a slight grin. "You really think that you know Hannibal and our team so well? Then you're a bigger than I thought."
Agent Burress quickly wrapped his hand tightly around Face's throat as Face struggled against his captor while staring into his cold, angry eyes, as the criminal growled, "You may not be so sure that your friends will come for you, but I am, or least, they'll come to try to take me down once again and when they do, I'll throw your cold dead body down before their feet. And then, I'll kill your team as well. First, that crazy idiot Murdock, then I'll kill the one with the bad attitude, and finally your precious Hannibal. Perhaps I ought to keep you alive long enough to make you watch?"
When Face managed to pry off the psychopath's hand from his throat, he gently rubbed it and then responded, "And what does whoever's in charge of having you released have to say about all this? Are you really in charge, or is he?"
"It doesn't really matter right now," Lynch replied as he stood up straight again and moved toward the door to leave. "Because it won't be long before I leave Colonel Decker and his small army behind, taking you with me so that I can finish what it is I started in the shipping yard."
"Who is Colonel Decker?" Face asked before the agent left. "The man put in charge to bring our team in to face the firing squad?"
Burress chuckled again and left before answering his captive's question, once again leaving Face alone in the dimly lit room to contemplate his upcoming actions. Face knew that he was going to have to escape somehow in order to try to prevent his friends from having to come for him should they actually do so, but he didn't know if he had enough strength to get himself free, let alone escape from an unknown number of enemies aboard a ship that could be out in the middle of any ocean for all he knew.
Face sank back against the bed and lay his head back as he closed his eyes to fight against the pain, chastising himself for feeling so weak and doubtful that his friends cared for him. He didn't understand how he could feel that even after all the years they had fought together that his friends could actually betray him, but Face never did trust anyone so easily and after Morrison's betrayal, a man whom he had also trusted as he trusted Hannibal, it shook him to his core and he couldn't forget it.
If Lynch, or whatever his name was now, wanted to kill him, Face certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of killing him without a fight and he wasn't going to allow the man, or the small army with him, to use him to draw out his friends to be killed or brought in to be tried and sentenced to death either.