2009-11-11: A Terrible Thing To Waste



Date: November 11, 2009

Special Guest Star: ????


A rescue?

"A Terrible Thing To Waste"

Undisclosed Location #3

The place the recovering Ms. Strauss has been relocated, Undisclosed Location #3, is a far cry from a metal chair in chains under heat lamps. That's not to say it's luxurious, but it's a hell of a lot better. Propped up slightly by pillows, she lays half-awake on a hospital bed in the room, one arm in a blue sling and cast and one arm handcuffed to the bed — the same side that's hooked up to an IV. Her ankles are restrained to the bedrails, too, hidden mostly under a blanket. Her cheeks are flushed and she's not exactly well-kempt, but she actually looks somewhat well-rested.

A card sits on the nightstand, featuring a picturing an angry, cartoonish dragon breathing fire. She reaches out, just barely able to touch it before her handcuffs protest, but she manages to snare its corner.

Undisclosed Location #3 actually has a door. A door that is opened by the man known as Ivory Wynn. He stands at the door for a moment, peering inside and just trying to get a basic layout of what's going on in there, before he actually takes the step needed to go inside. He closes the door behind him. For once, it looks as if he's not afraid of where he's going… due to the fact that there are no guards with him at this juncture. It's new, this concept of minimal fear. Who knows how long it will last though, to be perfectly honest.

Ivory is silent, just looking at Tracy like he can't believe either what she's done or what they've done to her. Whatever the case may be, he's staring at her in quite the rude manner. But it's broken up when it looks like he's heard something and his footsteps draw him closer to the bed. Faster. No words, though.

Tracy's head is bowed as she reflects pleasantly on the silly card before the sound of someone entering the room draws every ounce of her attention… attention that is faintly dulled by the drugs she's been given to take the edge off the pain. The eyes that fix on Ivory are a little dilated, a little glazed, comfortably numb, but lucid — wide, searching, relieved, hopeful, alarmed … yeah. lucid. "Ivory!" She shuts the card without looking at it again and lets it fall on her blanket-covered stomach. She was expecting someone medical coming to check on her or, more likely, give her more drugs. Her voice is a touch subdued, tired and slower than usual, but her enthusiasm fights through it. "Thank God. I starting to wonder when I'd see you again!"

"Sh!" It's quick and exasperated as it comes from Ivory's lips. He's only pausing to look at her for the moment, before his attention is on something else entirely. Like everything that's going on around her bed. He's no expert but he wants to make sure if he unhooks anything that she won't die. "Think you can walk?" is the next question, as he's fumbling around in his pocket to come out with the handcuff key. To which he's moving to start with the unlocking. Apparently, the Senator is in some bit of a hurry to get her the hell out of here.

Nothing beyond sudden hysterical blindness could prevent Tracy from watching the Senator. She's absolutely glued to his every word, his every gesture. What few words come out of Ivory's mouth might as well be the Word of God, and as far as she can tell, he's offering salvation. Hope flares up in her gaze. One can almost see her heart skip a beat. "I think so," she says eagerly, starting to sit up and away from the pillows. "The IV," she holds her arm out, indicating the needle taped to her arm, jabbing into her veins. Say goodbye to the ability suppressant?

Senator Wynn is already on it. Moving to reach for the IV, he stops. Only when he hears the sound of something at the door. Sounds like a couple of people waking up. Groaning and such comes from out there. Ivory's eyes go a bit wide when he looks back over his shoulder. "Shit." He takes a quick second to compose himself, before he looks back at Tracy. "No matter what happens, I want you to know I never meant for this to happen to you. I swear." And with that, the yanks out the IV and stands back, hoping that he doesn't end up the target of her pent up rage.

Oh, Tracy has plenty of pent up rage, but not for Ivory. Out goes the IV and all she does is tear her gaze away from him for a fleeting moment to eye the door. "I know you didn't," she says, honesty mixing with a bitter anger that's not directed at him. With her good arm now free, she throws back the covers to reveal more drab pyjamas and the restraints at her ankles. Like her prior set-up, they're just undone by buckles. "You didn't get authorization, did you," she says with realization. "This isn't sanctioned." Pause. She bends down to try to one-handedly free one of her ankles, clumsier than she intends to be with the meds in her system. "Come on! Hurry up!"

"Authorization? I'm not even sure I'm still a Senator." Ivory says as quickly as possible. Of course, the moment he moves to start helping her with getting her ankles free, there's a hand on the knob of the door. Ivory must've locked it. Which is not good because following the inability to just open the door, comes some bamming on it. "Hey! Hey! Let us in there!" Ivory gets those damn ankles undone and then turns back to the door. "I'll try to keep them busy. So you can make a run for it." Gulp. He's not a fighter. Never really been a fighter. Fighting is not his thing.

When is the last time she hasn't been shackled to something for longer than a few seconds? Freedom feels good, but maybe it's not freedom just yet. Tracy hurries out of bed, grabbing onto Ivory's arm for support. "Ivory…" she looks at him worriedly and shakes her head. "You… you can't, they'll have weapons, what do you have? If you've gone against your superiors then— they'll stop you. Ivory. I can't just leave you! I won't." She holds up her hand, fingers splayed, but nothing happens. Try as she might to use her ability, the Solution has been floating around in her body all day. It's no use. Desperately, she looks at him.

"I don't care. I started this. All of this. This whole thing is my fault. And if that means I gotta' fight until I don't have a breath left in my body to stop it… then that's what I'm going to do." And there they are. Shouldering at the door now. Ivory's trying to help Tracy off to the side, where she'll be able to sneak out faster. "Just. Just wait for them to rush me. Then go. It's the only way." There's creaking at the door now. Because, well, they are a couple of big dudes. Which means, well, that they''ll be in here within the next moment or so. "I'm sorry. For everything." Gulp. Are those going to be his last words?

"Ivory," Tracy hiss in an adamant whisper as she flattens herself against the wall by the door, by Ivory, but keeps hanging on to his arm. "No, you should've— I could've helped you!" Even her drug-hazed mind is working out better plans than this, but of course, it's too late now. The adrenaline rush of the sudden escape is rapidly making her ever sharper. If only it was enough to use her power. "Tell them it was a mistake, that— I got lose— Ivory…!"

Ivory is pulling at his arm to see if he can't get it away from her… but realizes that this may be his last moment. And then he's swinging back towards her to plant one of those Final Kisses(tm) against her lips. He pulls back after that moment and plants his forehead against hers. "I don't have to say it, do I?" And before he can even really get an answer, the door is kicked open and Ivory closes his eyes. There's no time to really do much of anything but pull away from the Tracy and dive for the two men that are entering the room! It's an amazing tackle that looks too surreal to be reality but what else could it possibly be, right? It's not like Tracy's hopped up on morphine or anything, right? Seriously?

Anyway, while Ivory's being repositioned and pinned down by the two guards, the shadow of a woman can be seen coming into the room. She's wearing a pair of black sunglasses to match her feminine suit of equal blackness.

"Stay the hell away from her!" Ivory's head is slammed into the floor within that next half-second, before Marilyn de Souza (in the scarily silent flesh) turns her head to offer a wicked smile to Tracy.

"Ms. Strauss. You really shouldn't be out of bed." Uh Oh.

This is so, so, so far from ideal. Tracy doesn't even have time to respond to the kiss, or the words, or all the sudden action that looks to her like a blur. She can only stand there poised for a battle she doesn't know how to take yet, looking shell-shocked and acutely vexed. "IVORY! Don't hurt him!" She starts to rush the door, but it's only then that she realizes that she recognizes the woman who blocks it; the woman who addresses her. Confused, and suddenly even more wary, Tracy backs up. "…Ms. de Souza?"

Ivory's head gets slammed into the floor, once more, to stop his struggling. He doesn't even move again. There's no blood or anything, so he must just be unconscious. Or at least dying slowly. Whichever the case is, those two guards are not going to take the chance on him playing possum, so they stay on him, keeping him from moving.

Marilyn just continues to stand there, with some creepy smile on her face. That smile stays with her, even as she reaches up to pull off her sunglasses. "You have an impeccable memory, Ms. Strauss." And that's when her eyes shift from their natural color to something a bit… less… holy crap, her pupils are gone. "Let's see if we can't do something about that."

Tracy, torn between watching the Homeland Security woman and Ivory, trying to discern if he's okay, if he's hurt, if he'll be more hurt, if he's alive — she swallows slowly, her eyes darting back and forth, suspicious. She has every right to be suspicious. Her eyes widen on Marilyn's, finally fixing there as the other woman's go so eerily void. "You're— " Her eyebrows raise in realization and she takes a hurried step back.

"I know I am far from your friend right now, but I— I lobbied for your department's defense contracts! You know who I am! And, you have an ability too." That much is clear. Like the woman's eyes. Tracy wavers on her feet, a bit unsteady, but her words go on strong. "What kinda monster are you that you'd do this to someone who's like you?!" She's not entirely sure what "this" is, but she doesn't want to find out. She's about five seconds from making a run for it.

"A better monster than you are." is all Marilyn de Souza allows herself to say before he merely extends a hand towards Tracy. The hand is simply to keep her focus and to stop her from accidentally hindering her assistants, who seem to be very well versed in holding down a man that's too unconscious to be of any help. Poor Ivory.

Poor Tracy. Because within a matter of moments, she'll find that things are starting to disappear. Thoughts. Perhaps a memory or two. Certain things are going bye-bye, in regards to what's happened to her in recent weeks, the airport and, perhaps most importantly… the recent freezings, though, are left intact. Tracy may find it hard to move while her brain is being sifted through and cleaned, but it's not impossible.

Rushing ahead only to get nowhere, Tracy shouts out in protest, a sound that's cut off by an even more acute cry of frustration before she finds that she can't move — or speak — much at all anymore.

Ultimately, it's her mounting confusion, as bits and pieces of her life disappear or become jumbled, that prompts the blonde to stumble back, not lunge forward like she planned, and shake her head; she can't truly determine what happened to her, or that things are not as they were, just there's a distant haze about her mind. "What… " She brings her hand to her forehead, stumbling back a step more and finally looking back up with a knitted brow and cloudy, searching eyes.

By the time Tracy manages to get herself together, there's not much of anything to really register in the room… except that Ivory's on the floor. Out cold. Solid. Whatever adjective fits well in this particular section. He looks like he's seen some better days, but other than that, the room is completely empty. The door is open and there's an eerie silence going on around the whole room. Who knows how long Tracy's been 'out', but whatever the case may be… there's a knocked out Senator on the floor, keys on the floor next to him and probably a whole lot of questions to be answered if the press comes in to find them like this.

Tracy comes 'to in the middle of the room, frozen in a confused, gaping pose. Wondering how she got there and why it's so eerily still in the room, she slowly — warily, as if fearing what she might see — looks around. After that, it barely takes a split second for her to spot Ivory and rush to him. She falls to her knees in front of him and, unbalanced, lashes out with her free hand to catch herself on the tile before collapsing straight on top of him. "Ivory," she says hurriedly. Increasingly adamant, she grabs his shoulder, shaking him, trying to discern if he's bleeding anywhere. "Come on, Ivory. IVORY! We're getting outta here! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!"

It's hard to stay Out Cold when there's a woman shaking you to Hell and Back. Blinking after a bit, Ivory groans in pain as he realizes that there's something going on. Blinking more rapidly, he almost shoots up from his sprawled position, but his head pains are quite simply keeping him moving a bit slower than he normally would be at this point. "Tracy? What… huh?" He's not even sure of what to try and say at this point. He's so confused about what happened. He's been KO'd like there's no boxing on Showtime anymore. "Out of… what?" Maybe she should just explain later.

The second Ivory starts to wake up, Tracy tries to loop an arm under his and help to haul him up, climbing into a crouch in her bare feet. It's a remarkably good effort for being weak, unsteady and with the use of one arm, but it's not quite enough. A moment after his bewildered question, she pauses and looks around the room and down the hall. "…I don't know," she answers honestly. Not only does she have no idea what happened either, she has no idea where this building even is. "But people might be after us. Your… people. We have to leave. you have to get up! Just— here, come on. Are you okay?"

Ivory takes a moment to get himself together, before he pushes up to his feet with the limited assistance from Tracy. He's leaning back over to snatch up his keys in the next moment, before looking around the room to make sure there's nothing else that needs to be taken with or something, all the while trying to shift leading positions with Tracy so that she's the one relying on him. The moment he gets her arm around his shoulder, he's looking over at her with a worried glint in his eye. "I'm only okay if you're okay." And then he realizes what he's said. "… Considering."

"…I'm— " As Tracy hangs onto Ivory, keeping a firm-as-possible grip around him, her hand clutching his farthest shoulder, she looks into his eyes for a long moment. "…I'm not sure." She blinks a few times and shakes her head dismissively, mystified and, quite obviously, holding things back. "But I can move, so let's move," she says with more authority than befits what she's been through today, determined to get out of here with Ivory wherever here is. She heads for the hall as fast as Ivory will let her.

Questions need to be answered. Honestly, they do. But for right now, the focus is on getting into the hall and away from this damn building as fast as they can. Which becomes the priority in Ivory's own mind, as he makes sure to walk briskly, but carefully enough for Tracy to be able to manage. Once they get to his car, they're outta' here.

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