I woke up dizzy, numb, raw and grainy. Because grainy is definitely a feeling you can have.

The wooden planks of the bed above me came into focus.

I stayed there for a few more minutes, blinking my headache away until it was at least bearable enough to move. Feeling returned to my legs and next I noticed I wasn't wearing a shirt. Then I saw it was light outside. And there was no one else in my dorm.

I rolled onto my left to try and get up but then I was hit with a force of pain so harsh and immediate I almost passed out again. I cried out and arched my back up and then quickly flopped down so I was flat on my back again. I gasped in and out slowly for a few minutes with my head back and eyes squeezed shut until the pain numbed out again. When it finally diminished to at least a piercing ache I glanced over at my left shoulder.

It was thickly bandaged over a sleeve from my elbow to my bicep, curving over the muscle and wrapping under my armpit. I also felt something wrapped around my back and across my chest several times, that also wove into the bandages around my shoulder. It disabled me from basically all left shoulder movements. And Jesus fuck it hurt.

I eased up into a sitting position with only dull pain sparking down my back and slipped my feet over the end of the bed. I snaked out my right hand and grasped behind me at my back. My fingers just barely dusted where bandages were stuck down onto my actual back, but in that split moment I could feel heat radiating off of me in waves. Slowly I stood up and limped forwards towards the door, trying not to move my entire left side. Every step sent pain spiraling up to my shoulder and my energy was drained before I even reached the door.

But there was no doorknob. There was no door handle. There was just a slim back screen fitted over where the handle used to be. It looked like some kind of scanner. I touched my finger to it. Nothing happened. I tried again with every single one of my fingers, then my full hand. Still nothing happened. I tried digging my nails into the cracks but the door didn't budge.

Finally I banged on the wood with my right fist.

"Ah, you're awake," came a voice from the other side of the door.

"The hell is going on Harrison?" I shouted.

"Flagg went full lockdown."

"He what?"

"Lockdown," Harrison repeated from right outside the door.

"Specifics?"

"There's cameras everywhere, even in the dorms. No more rec rooms. Fingerprint scanners on every dorm and office door and exit. Triple the guards, one per training room during those hours. No more personal weapons, no more weapons stored in the training rooms. A fence —an legit electric fence— around the entire perimeter of the building, including the outside courses. Automatic lights out and doors locked at 9pm."

I blinked several times. "What?" I stammered. "Who—who do the scanners accept?"

"His guards and The Dick himself."

I started to break out into a cold sweat. "Did they take her?"

There was a heart-stopping silence on the other side of the door where I bet Harrison was running a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he sighed.

I slid my back down the door until I hit the floor. "Anyone else?"

"James."

I rubbed my face. "Where's Owen?"

"Prison cells."

"Flagg do anything to him?"

"We don't know."

"Blitz?"

"Suspended. Couple of broken ribs."

"Zach too?"

"Yeah. Bad concussion. He's had a couple seizures."

"Everyone else?"

"He did something to Lautaro's ear and now he can't hear out of it. He cut off three of Cal's fingers. Lucky's grounded with a hip thing. Quinn has a broken arm."

I drew my legs up to my chest and tried to calm down.

"Your ankle hurt?" Harrison asked.

"A little. But so does everything else."

"Check it."

I rolled up my right pant leg. On the inside of my ankle a dark red circle was chiseled into my flesh. "The hell?" I skimmed my finger over it tenderly.

"We all got one," Harrison sighed. "Every agent in the agency. They're the tracers he invented from Adira's tech, ones like he put in her. The ones that see and hear everything we do. The brand over it is just to make sure we don't go cutting them out or anything."

The pain in my shoulder almost went away at that. To know that everyone here had suffered because of all of us just trying to do what was right... my breathing faltered. I stuttered, "Did he do anything to you?"

I heard him laugh dryly.

"What?" I asked urgently.

"I really wish you could see me right now."

I shifted as best I could so my voice was angled towards the door. "Why? Harry, what the hell did he do to you?"

"He cut up my face."

"What'd you mean?"

"I mean like I look like fucking Scarface, but worse. Took a few hours before the swelling went down enough for me to see again, and I haven't looked in a mirror since."

I squeezed my eyes shut and put my back up against the door again. "Fuck. I'm sorry man."

"He took my tags too."

I whirled back around again. Those dog tags meant everything to Harrison. They were all he had. "He what?!"

"My parents tags. I woke up with them gone yesterday. What'd he do to you?" He asked, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

I swallowed my anger and looked back down at my shoulder. "Something to my left shoulder. Or maybe my clavicle, or a bone in my back. It's all wrapped up so I can't move it anyway, but I just grazed it getting up and it hurt like fucking hell."

"They dropped you off yesterday morning," Harrison explained, "all sedated and shit."

"I think I woke up cause the pain meds were starting to wear off." I glanced up at the ceiling and fought the urge to rub at the bandages. "How long you been here?"

"Couple hours."

"What about training?"

He laughed again, but the sound was sucked dry of humor. "Laurie... the whole agency is... it's upside down," he lamented. "People don't talk, people don't look at anyone who was on the Basilone mission. And the guys who Flagg thought were gay or weren't loyal enough, he let go. But with no money. No clean record, no supplies, no nothing, he just dumped them who knows where. They might even be dead. It's like a goddamn 50's prison out here."

"We never should have gone back in."

Harrison sighed and I knew he would be fiddling with his dog tags if he still had them. "I dunno man, I still think we did the right thing. We saved people. I don't really care what Flagg does to me at this point, at least I can sleep knowing we did some good, it wasn't like it was all for nothing."

We were quiet for a while after that, both of us weighing the consequences of our decisions. And after awhile I realized he was right. I really did think we did the right thing by disobeying orders like that. Even though everyone was paying for it now, it was better than the innocent people caught in the middle of Basilone's rage.

"I'm sorry Laurie."

I breathed slowly. "For what?"

"She's gone."

At that I bit my lip and clenched my fists together. "Flagg is so gonna fucking pay—"

"Laurie, stop. You don't get it. He's on top, he's got reinforcements, he's untouchable now. Everyone is just... done."

Harrison never gave up. In the whole time I knew him I don't think I ever saw or heard of him back down from a fight, never squelching that spark of rebellion that was engraved in his bones. He wanted someone to hate, and Flagg had always been that guy. Always comparing him to his parents and calling him a failure because he was nothing like them, of course Harrison hated Flagg. He would never dismiss the idea to claw his guts out.

"Are you high right now?" I asked him.

"No."

"Harry."

"I mean I was this morning but the height of it has died down by now."

"I don't suppose there's any cigs floating around anymore?" I asked without feeling.

"No. Everyone's secret stashes of things are gone. And not just drugs. Jewelery, money, pictures, religious stuff, the guards took them all. I got the last of the weed from the hospital before Flagg took it away, and it was like a fourth of a gram. Really fucking wish I had harder stuff right about now though. LSD maybe?"

I sighed again. Maybe it was a good thing Flagg took all the drugs. Dealing with Harrison on acid would not be pleasant. "Did he seriously lock me in my fucking room?" I tried clawing the door open again but only ended up skinning my fingertips in the absence of a door handle.

"Yep. He did the same thing to everyone else he tortured. Except we all woke up two days ago. But you... Laurie you lost a lot of blood. I didn't see you come up from the infirmary since I was locked in my room at that point too, but I think he broke one of your shoulder blades or a deltoid or something."

I poked at the bandages stringing up my limb.

"Can you feel your legs?"

I wiggled my toes. "Yeah. No spinal cord damage then."

"How considerate of him."

I huffed angrily. "When do you think he'll let me out?"

"If you're awake at the same time everyone leaves for training in the morning, then tomorrow I guess."

"I thought people weren't going to training?"

"They are, but it's only 'cause it's the only thing that hasn't really changed. It's weird though. Nobody talks and there's no team exercises. No one has been out on a mission since we came back, and everyone who was got called back to get the new trackers in. I think from now on it will just be solo missions." I heard him scoff. "Oh, and guess who got promoted?"

I sighed. "Who?" I growled, even though I had a very strong hunch.

"Martin. And boy is he flaunting that orange armband like it's a fucking medal."

I sighed. "Fucking figures. I'd really rather take a bullet than orders from that jack off. I might just stay locked up in here actually."

I heard Harrison snort. "Yeah, I would too."

"Thanks for staying."

"And miss training for the first time ever? Well, you know, besides that one time Zack slashed my back open with his chain whip and I got partially paralyzed for a good six hours. A real stick-it-to-the-man vibe. Gotta maintain some form of a rep during this chaos."

I chuckled. "Whatever you say."

"Now that I know that you're alive I can actually sleep. I was so worried about you I felt like a mom."

I sighed and rubbed my hands together. They warmed quickly, like they always did, and then I remembered how Adira was always cold and how when she touched me she'd heat right up.

"I don't know where they took her," Harrison started. Somehow he knew that was exactly what I was thinking about. "Flagg's guys put us in the shock bracelets before we could get out of his office. When we did I just managed to see him knock you out and her get wrestled to the ground. Then we got dragged down to the basement, a couple of us per cell except for you and Owen. I don't think James even came down, Flagg kicked out almost immediately. Then he sent his guards in, he took care of Owen himself, and well... you can piece the rest together."

I blinked groggily. Some of it was starting to come back, mostly the shadows and screams and some kind of a hammer. But I didn't want to remember, so I concentrated on the pain I was feeling now to ground me in the present. I just wanted out. Out of the agency, find Adira, wherever she was, and then... well... I don't know. Just not stay here.

"What day is it?" I asked.

"Sunday."

"It's been four days?!"

"Time flies when you're getting tortured."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Like 5."

"I'm guessing he's not gonna let me out for dinner?"

"Probably not."

I sighed. "Go back to training Harry. Punch it out. I'll be here."

"You gonna try and get back to sleep?"

"I wish. The pain was bad before, but it's worse now that I'm updated on what's happened to this shithole... so, yeah, I'm not counting on sleep."

I heard a bit of rustling on his side of the door and then his voice started to come from above. "You sure you're good?"

"No."

"I'm glad. I'll see you when you get out, whenever that is."

"Okay. Thanks Harry. Don't start shit, yeah?"

"I'm already pretty trashed, so fuck it."

"Harrison," I sighed like Zach.

"We can be crippled buds."

"I don't think that's gonna be as good of a buddy cop idea as you think it's gonna be."

I heard him swallow a scream. "He took my tags, he took my gun, he took my knife, he took my weed, he slashed open my face, he almost killed you, he banished James, he beat the shit out of everyone else, he's turned every agent here into a prisoner, and he took Adira who knows where! Oh, and Basilone and his menacing death brigade are still out there. So, death... death is looking pretty sweet right about now."

"You're just saying that."

"No I'm not!"

"For god's sake Harrison—"

"Laurie," he whispered. I pressed my ear flat up against the door so I could hear him. "You heard what he said, I'm not getting out for two years. Maybe even three. And even then, you know I don't work very well on my own, and since he's only doing solo missions... I am probably never going to get out of here. I'll be trapped, listening to him scream at me about my parents and everyone's disappointment in me for the next six years."

"That is no excuse for taking the easy way out," I said sternly. "I may be locked in here, but you know how this friendship works and when one of us thinks like this it's up to the other one to sock him in the face and tell him to get his head out of his ass. So, politely, get your head out of your ass and don't make shit decisions until I get out!"

"Okay," my friend said, "okay. Yeah. Okay. Right. I'm good."

"Good," I took my ear off the door and straightened up again. "Now go kick Sam's ass for me."

He laughed. I started laughing too and then hissed through my teeth at the pain it made in my shoulder.

"And Laurie?"

"What?"

"Don't... think about her too much, okay? Whoever has her isn't going to let those Sytengco's get her again. They might even try to help her, with therapy or some shit. Who knows. And maybe that's for the best. She's just a little too... broken to be fixed by people like us. She can't get fixed by someone who isn't quite fixed themselves, you know? She isn't really agency material. Not to mention how she screwed with your head. I always knew that there was something more in your feelings for her, and I'm sorry that Flagg... I'm just sorry. I'm just doing the same thing you were with that friend rule shit. We keep each other from making shit decisions, and thinking about her while you can't do anything about it is a pretty shit decision."

Of course I knew I wasn't "quite fixed myself," but I thought that wouldn't matter if I tried hard enough. And I had tried harder than I've ever tried at anything to help her.

I looked down at my calloused hands. I remember ripping them up by clawing at the prison cell door, while knowing it would do no good but still trying anyway. My knuckles were scarred too. A drop fell from my cheek and slickened my dry fingers a little. Then came another. And another. Then they wouldn't stop.

"Okay."

Of course, it wasn't okay. But I cried anyway, silently, while rubbing my shoulder gingerly to try and numb to pain.

It didn't work.