"When things go completely to shit, it helps to keep cool. When you're half drowning in a bucket of water, don't keep cool. Think. Do. Then keep cool. That, lies the difference between life and death."
Somewhere near the Aral Sea
He felt his head go back under, straight into the water-filled bucket, as he bubbled, almost forcing his head back. A stern hand held him down, and his hands and legs were tied. He held his breath, as he knew it wasn't worth fighting. Liam had assessed what had happened when the rag had came off. He just heard the Arabic that was muffled through the water, and the fact that he would be under here until he fought again. He let his body go limp, not struggling, against his body's demands. Two men, and in the other corner of the claustrophobic room, was Sarah, tied up. Their gear, he guessed next door. The men, Al-Qaeda related terrorists, that had intercepted them what Liam guessed to be an hour ago. They knew that Liam and Sarah were mercs. His knee was bleeding, and the prosthetic limb was still there, though it was hopelessly tied to the rope that secured it to his other leg. Liam felt his lungs become almost inflamed, begging for air, for the carbon dioxide to leave and oxygen to take it's place. He couldn't. He had to think this through. Behind the man that held his head under, was another man going to Sarah, and he guessed that there wouldn't be a better chance than now. The bucket was unsecured, and he took a guess that his left leg would be somehow manageable in this situation- despite the pain in the end of his knee. Slowly, Liam raised his left knee, without the guard who was currently drowning him for a reaction, aware that this was likely to kill him. He wanted Liam to fight him, and then pull him back for interrogation, for answers of who they were. That would be fatal to the company, and his job. To Sarah's, to Pavel's, to Ariana's. It would be betrayal.
"Speak! Or do you want to die like our comrades do in Guantanamo? I will let you drown!" The man yelled, forcing him down even more.
His left knee left the prosthetic, as he wiggled it out of the mount. By a stroke of luck, it had been upon captivity, and he could in short, have one leg free. That left everything else. His hands were still tightly tied, and his lungs were running out of air to provide to his brain. His right leg was attached right now, but it would come loose once he got the man that held him down out of action. Soon, he would drown, as his body let the salty water in, and slowly, and surely, kill him, quickly and decisively. Liam's head was loose within the bucket's space, despite the hand that held it down, and he knew that this was it. Pulling his left thigh, he dove his head to the side, and quickly, and nicely, knocked the bucket from his head along the table as it spilled out on it's side, and managed to find a gap in the captor's hold of him. He had held him almost perfectly in place to let Liam throw a sharp kick with his left thigh in the groin, which took the man out quickly. His left knee, or the end of what was left of his left leg was in agony, and he knew that it was one, temporarily down. The other man looked around, and Liam, free of the soldier's groin, knew that his right leg was now free also. It was attached to his left prosthetic, but he could hop, for the moment, slowly letting his left thigh seep into the prosthetic loosely, to give support. The other man turned from beating Sarah, upon seeing his friend in agony on the floor, and charged the now freed Liam, coming in too quickly. It was to this end that Liam dodged the man skillfully by manipulating what adrenaline he had flowing through him, stepping to the right, and replied with a low right kick to the back of the thigh, followed by a sharp kick in the stomach that connected better than well. The other man was still in agony, but was enough time for him to use his left prosthetic as a makeshift but able support, and then throw another right kick- this time fatal- to the man's neck, near a major artery. He had tried to block it, but the sheer power of his right leg was just enough off the base of the rudimentary support he had, with the British boot sinking in. As the other man tried to move, Liam moved over and gave one resounding kick in the head, to knock him out, before collapsing down to the floor. He held in most of the volume, but yelled, as he moved to the man he had knocked out on the floor. He searched his pouches on his ALICE pack, with his fingers just about managing, feeling for a knife. After about a minute, he had figured it out, and pulled it out neatly, impaling the rope on the knife he had stolen.
"Yes." He said simply to himself, Liam smiling as his hands finally felt looser, and looser, then completely able. He firstly secured the black carbon-fiber mount around his left knee, which bled heavily from the knocks it had taken, before then dusting himself off.
"Sarah, I'm coming. Shit, they fucking had us." Liam said, coughing as he went across the badly lit room, holding the tattered Bowie knife in his hands. With a nice pair of slashes, he cut the rope at her legs and then her hands, freeing her as well. Now, they had to get payback.
"They didn't hurt you bad, did they? Fucking Uzbek bastards." Liam said, calmly, before thinking through another response. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the agony that had been before was now double.
"Our stuff I think is in the next room. We'll kill all of them. Fuck the contract to just get a few then leave, I want everyone dead in this compound for this. Let's make use of what we got and try and improvise here- it's got to be night, I can see lights in the next room. Pavel probably went to Plan B- he must be in Muynak, that town or some place. Once we get the phones, we'll get the GPS co-ordinates set, and figure out how we do this." Liam said, helping her up, as he checked the cuts on his hands. He coughed up some more, his lungs still struggling for air following his quick reaction, and kept the knife close, nodding to the door, and for her to move up on it.
"Me and you, Sarah. Me and you. They'll pay for it." He said reassuringly, aware that this wasn't the best time to be close to her, and say it. Yet he knew it was almost a moral duty, to just keep her safe, to protect her as she did him. Most of all, he wanted to make her feel aware that Liam wasn't exactly happy with the situation at hand, and was going to deal with it. But in total contrast, he came out with something different, before he went to the door.
"What happens next, I'm really sorry for. Morality isn't my strong point, and I think it's enough to say that this has to be done." He said, before walking to the man who was unconscious on the floor. He stabbed the knife hard into the back of his head, and then repeatedly hammered it in twice more, the balaclava at least helping Liam to dehumanize this one. He stopped after the fourth time, and backed away, wiping the blood from his navy blue undershirt, before moving back to the door, where she waited.
"On your go." He said quickly, aware that it was going to turn into either a brawl with the militants analyzing their gear, or a simple pickup of their weapons and kit. His SCAR, Skorpion and Kimber were there, as well as the other kit. His platecarrier, his bandana, and his other peripherals. Liam wanted them back- and knew that this was going to get very, very bloody. This was what he was paid for sadly, and knew that not only that, but it was the only way they would survive this.