Flummox

The Peruvian leader stopped, flummoxed. He didn’t actually know what was to be done with the guy they were looking for. He’d assumed they were supposed to kill him, but the power was already changing. Killing the guy may not be the answer anymore.

Shaking his musings off, he haughtily announced. “We will kill him, of course.” These worthless humans didn’t need to know the deeper things at stake. Nor would they understand the politics at play here. Even his own warriors barely understood what was happening beyond following his orders.

“Now, where is he?!” Instead of pulling the knife out of McGee’s shoulder this time, he twisted it hoping that more pain would get him the desired result even if he wasn’t sure what he would do once he found his prize anymore.

McGee gasped out in pain, a high pitched whining noise emitting from him that McGee would rather not acknowledge came from him. He’d never been trained to withstand torture. He badly wanted to tell them whatever they wanted to know now. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he truly didn’t know the answer to the question and thus couldn’t give them what they wanted either way.

Gibbs hated feeling powerless. He should be the one they were torturing for information. It shouldn’t be falling on McGee. At least Gibbs had experience with war. McGee barely had experience as a field agent at all.

Of course, the truth was neither of them knew where Tony was. That’s why they had come here. They’d hoped to find a clue that would help find Tony. It looked like not only would they not find the clue, but they’d both die here as the warriors tortured them for information they did not have.