2009-09-22: Full Cooperation



Date: September 22nd, 2009


For Max, situations are very fluid. Especially when someone has something he wants.

"Full Cooperation"

Building 26 - Isolation Room

"We moved him. He's secure, Sir."
"Any activity since you called?"
"Just breathing, Sir."
"Oh? That's too bad." Pause. "Open up."

Those voices are what can be heard before the undoing of locks happens and the structure opens up in that way that proves there are no metal gears or anything within this room. As the door slides out of the way, Senator Ivory Wynn can be seen standing there in his crisp suit. Hands are held in front of him and he looks as calm as he possibly needs to. To either side of him are Secret Service Agents in all of their Emotionless Splendor. Wynn's creepy smirk remains firmly in place as he steps into the room, followed closely by the guards escorting him for protection purposes.

Max's return to consciousness comes in thick, throbbing stages. His first sensation is a headache that's cued by the opening door, closely followed by a near-painful thirst. Next is the realization that he's strapped down far more thoroughly than before. Cuffs around his wrists, ankles, knees, chest, and throat are anchored to the slab he's lying on, thoroughly immobilizing him. The continued presence of a tube up his nose is starting to become familiar. When he opens his eyes, he can't help but laugh, though it causes no small amount of discomfort to his raw throat and injured torso.

He's surrounded by an environment that is composed entirely of glass, plastic, and other non-metallic materials. His table and cuffs are made of similar substances. The combined effect is very… sterile. Captive he may be, but the extra attention is flattering.

"Please, do come in," he greets the new arrivals cordially despite his discomfort. "Pardon me if I don't get up."

"You're excused." comes from Ivory's lips as he steps closer, but that's about it. He keeps his distance far enough to leave space for his Agents to slide between himself and this terrorist before he can get himself destroyed… or bitten. "I would ask if you were in need of anything, but they tell me you've already eaten." Ivory's smirk shows that he's impressed. Somewhat. "So, instead, we'll cut right to the chase. Your sect. What does it want? Why is it targeting the United States?"

Being held in isolation is working to Max's advantage, at least mentally. The other prisoners are out of sight, thus they are also out of mind. He is able to return to his natural, self-serving state without dozens of whimpering complaints bouncing off of his eardrums every few minutes. His cold, calculating demeanor has once again established itself.

Max smiles.

"Sect? That's an interesting choice of words. It bespeaks equal parts fear and ignorance." The smile grows wider, tugging at the scar around his mouth. "What makes you think you're dealing with a 'sect?' More importantly, what makes you think that they only exist in your precious little America?"

"Oh, I'm afraid. I'm very afraid. And I have no issues admitting that. After seeing what you've done to one of my men, there's a reason I'm standing four feet away from you." Ivory just shrugs a little bit, unable to really find the point in lying. "To be honest, I have no idea what I'm dealing with. Which is why I'm standing here asking questions in the first place. In case, for some reason, that wasn't clear." Ivory moves his hands to behind his back, turning to pace slightly towards one of his guards. "For the record, I'm not going to believe anything you say. This is just a formality." Ivory waves a hand dismissively at the room, indicating this entire process. "I can't have the President thinking I haven't given you terrorists a fair shake, now can I?" Smile.

Max stretches against his bonds, his movements more experimental than purposeful. As he suspected, there is no give to them. Not even the quarter-inch of wiggle room he had in his previous accomodations. He lifts one eyebrow appreciatively at the thoroughness of his confinement.

When he deigns to respond, he leads off with a low snort of laughter. The tip of his tongue trails along his teeth, loosening a bit of dried blood before he responds. "You must realize that you offer very little incentive to cooperate. Still, your honesty is refreshing, if a bit amusing. I'll give you this one for free: There is no sect. No organization of villains dedicated to your destruction. You're dealing with a group of people who are very isolated. As a rule, they are just as afraid of themselves as you are of me."

"Interesting." Ivory is actually interested, as he turns his head to look back off in Max's direction. His own eyebrow raises as ponders his own response for the moment. "I need to tell you that I have no intentions of hurting anyone. I've been chosen to protect America and that's the only reason you're confined the way you are. Well, that and the way you want to leap out of those bonds and rip my head from my shoulders." Ivory pauses, shaking his own thoughts out of visualizing that. "I can understand why you and your friends feel that we've gone about this the wrong way. But, as you know, nobody ever 'volunteers' information when asked for it. We're a nation of action. We're only doing what we believe is right." Justification? Explanation? Both? "Who's the girl?" Ah, Ivory must know about everything that happened.

Suddenly, Max's casually cold demeanor vanishes. Just as quickly, it's replaced by an open, fiery rage. "That is none of your concern," he replies, biting off each word. "But if you release her, I will happily share any information you might require."

It's as simple as that. One life. One freedom. In exchange, a wealth of secrets that could take months to accumulate. Possibly even years.

He takes a deep breath and exhales. Another. Then his self-control is restored. "I couldn't care less who you do or don't want to hurt. That's something that is none of my concern. Give me what I want and I'll help you in whatever way you wish."

Ivory just kind of stares at Max for a bit longer. It's almost as if he's studying the man. Like he's wanting to see what this man is doing or up to. But then again, Ivory has never really been one to enjoy the harming of women and children. He's just not that mean. Finally, though, Ivory shrugs. "Done." And with that, Ivory's turning his back on Max and starts to make his way to the door. "We'll talk after she's safely returned to where she belongs. I like to secure my end of a bargain before misunderstandings can arise."

Max opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He snaps it shut again and blinks several times in quick succession. "Thank you," he says, his voice just loud enough to be heard. For the first time, there is no thinly-veiled anger or amused mocking in his demeanor. "It's because she's the one person who has never been afraid of me. Once I'm satisfied that she's safe and unharmed, you will have my full cooperation." With difficulty, he breathes in and out through his nose around the tube that's keeping him drugged. Then, a bit begrudgingly, he bids the man farewell. "Good day to you."

"I'll have you moved back to the others, so that you can say goodbye." Ivory says as he makes his exit. Both of his Agents are still emotionless as they follow the Senator out. The door is slid back into place, sealing Max once again.

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