What totally should have happened during "Escape". Dark Ace/Aerrow, implied Mr. Moss/Aerrow.

Saturday Night Entertainment

He couldn't see him. The chair didn't allow him the flexibility to turn; he'd tried it, and it had only tightened the restraints on his wrists. But he could feel him. That horrible, chilly biting he got in his stomach at the sight of his face, at the thought of him. Aerrow had never thought hatred could evolve to this magnitude.

"I was going to devise a long, painful, humiliating procedure of torture for you," the man behind him said, "but you know what? I like this better."

"Why, because you don't have to do any of the work?" Aerrow growled. "Dark Ace."

"Surprisingly, no," Dark Ace smirked. "Though this is by far more convenient than what I had in mind. Maybe I'll just," And here he languished in the thought, reveled in it, "watch for a little while. I've had such a hard time of it lately, and after all, it is Saturday."

"The day you jerk off?"

"Oh, ignorant youth," Dark Ace said. "There is no need to designate a day for such activities."

Aerrow squirmed a little at that. "I didn't know you swing that way."

"I don't," Dark Ace admitted. "But the concept of all this is making me think otherwise."

"Concept of what?"

Dark Ace snorted. "Don't pretend you have no idea what's about to happen."

"I have an idea," Aerrow admitted. "But I don't want to believe it."

There was a sound outside the cell; Aerrow flinched. He could feel Dark Ace leering. "Now would be the time to start begging me to help you."

"Never!" Aerrow spat.

"Suit yourself," Dark Ace said, settling back against the wall. "More fun for me. You're about to find out Mr. Moss has more than one use for that whip."

The young Storm Hawk flinched. "I'm not going to beg…"

"Of course not," Dark Ace agreed cheerfully. "There's always time for that later. Mr. Moss likes to take his time."

"You sound as if you'd know," Aerrow said carefully. He couldn't see, but he had the feeling, or rather the hope, that Dark Ace had taken on a rather ugly expression.

"Dark Ace!" Aerrow heard the familiar drawl, and felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "Good to have ya, son! Ya heard of our success!"

"Belatedly, yes," Dark Ace said coolly. "I'm here to find out why Master Cyclonis was not informed sooner."

"Business, son, business. Got to get the affairs in order, you know that," Mr. Moss chuckled. "Ya care to join me in tonight's activities?"

"Actually, I'm also here to relieve you of them."

Aerrow couldn't trust his ears. He tried in vain to turn to watch the two men.

"Pardon me?" Mr. Moss chuckled nervously.

"Master Cyclonis has immediate need of him. I'm here to transport the prisoner to her personally."

"But…but the trouble we went…the hasslin', the punishment-"

"Will be dealt out accordingly in its time. We have taken note of your services, and will commend you for them. Some new recruits, perhaps. Young. Fresh."

Aerrow could feel his skin breaking out into goosebumps.

"New recruits?" Mr. Moss's tone warmed immediately. "Well, who am I to argue politics? You know me well, sir. Take him, go on."

Mr. Moss's heavy footsteps retreated down the hall and away.

"I didn't beg," Aerrow said, sounding far more brave than he felt.

Lighter footsteps approached, and suddenly Dark Ace was within eyesight, near his face, in his face, and then:

"Oh, don't worry. You're going to."