2010-01-24: FB: The Hospitality Of Terrorists

Starring:

Cody_V4Ricon.gifMark_V4Ricon.gif

Cameo:

MrLane_V4Ricon.gif

Terrorist Leader NPC'd by Helen

Date Set: January 24, 2009

Summary:

Mark is sent to Kuwait to over see testing for smart missiles that Lane Industries has developed for the US Government. He ends up the guest of terrorists and it's up to Cody to get them out of a tough situation.


One Year Ago…

"The Hospitality of Terrorists"

Somewhere along the Border of Kuwait

48 hour earlier.

Stepping into the office of Marcus Lane II was much like a trip to the principles office, you never wanted to get called in to see him. That's exactly how the oldest son of Lane Industries felt as the assistant admitted him to his father's office. "You called, sir?" Marcus Lane III asked politely as he tugged at the hem of his jacket, making sure he looked decent in his Armani suit. He hated that thing with a passion. The tie made him feel like he was wearing a noose.

The great hair gentleman behind the desk looks up at the sound of his son's voice. His face lined from years of work. It's said that Mark's father use to be a common street thug, that his father was a Chicago mob boss. His father never wanted to talk about his own father, so Mark was pretty clueless on that account. "Mark, your going overseas."

"Ah… I am?" Mark's brows lift slightly on his head, this was news to him. This of course was how his father did business. He didn't ask, he told his sons what would be done. "I thought you wanted me here in Washington working on those contracts with that Senator?"

"I need you to go to Kuwait." His fathers tone, tells the younger man not to argue with him, "The US government will be testing some of the smart bombs we developed for them, they want one of us down there for the tests. I'd have sent Dr. Walken's since it was his brain child, but I need him here to help with contract negotiations. Everyone is scrambling to get those contracts for the Alpha Protocol weapons development."

The older Marcus, shuffles through a few items on his desk, his lips pressed together. There is a soft sigh and he leans over to punch a button his is desk. " Mary. Do you have the paper work for my son?" His voice gruff, clearly unhappy it's not on his desk."

«No sir. Check the in box on your desk. I put them right there this morning.»

A glance from age lined eyes proves she's right. "Thank you, Mary." Replies the senior Lane, before releasing the button and reaching for a manila envelope. "Everything is in here.. including your plane ticket."

Mark has to move quickly to retrieve the envelope, taking it, he opens it to glance at the contents. "Alright, sir. Wait… this flight time is in an hour!" Glancing up from the ticket he has eased out, the son meets his father's glare.

"And?"

Mark sighs, letting the ticket fall back in before he closes it. "Yes, sir." Giving a nod of his head. "With your leave?" He barely manages to keep his tone pleasant, since her really dislike how his father just throws him and his brother around at his whim.

There is only a grunt from the old man and a dismissive flick of his hand, so Marcus doesn't even say goodbye to his father, only lets himself out.

10 Hours Earlier

"Mr. Lane!" A voice calls over the noise of the airport. The head VP of Lane Industries can't believe how busy the place is really. Mark raises his hand over the heads of the crowd of people coming off the airplane, to show he heard the man dressed in military fatigues.

It takes him a few moments to get there, but a large hand is offered to the Army representative. "Thank you for coming to pick me up, Sargent Forrester." Mark looks less like the corporate slave and more like a real person in his travel worn jeans and tan buttoned up short sleeve. "Lets get going shall we? I hear the test will be in a few hours?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lane. I have your escort outside." Sgt. Forrester motions him to start walking, only continuing to talk as the move through the airport. "Your father and his company is highly respected, so it should be no surprised that they had one of Delta Force assigned to…. be your guard."

More like be my babysitter. Mark thinks blandly, he has no illusion how people see his type. "Really? Delta Force?" He asks politely.

"Yes.. Baker. One of our best, I assure you." Oh… highly doubtful.

Mark can't help but wonder what that poor soul did to deserve being stuck with him.

And Now..

The tan, brown and black splotched paint job of the Humvee had a fine coating of dust, as the wheels of the vehicle throw up a cloud of the stuff in it's wake. There were few actual roads around these part. So Mark found himself in holding on for dear life and his teeth felt like they were rattling around in his head at each jarring bump as they sped along. The trip had been in relative silence, his attention being on the alien world outside the window. He had never been in this part of the world yet, so there was a sense of the surreal.

But now he was stuck staring at miles and miles of… well…. nothing. A hand pressed against the roof, Mark shifts to look over at Baker… his eyes hidden behind the mirrored lens of a pair of gold rimmed aviator sunglasses. He had been rather surprised to have found out that this 'Baker' was a woman, he always thought special forces were full of men.

"So… Baker…. what did you do to get stuck with me? I highly doubt you volunteered to babysit the rich kid." The question is asked with a small smirk, his voice raised to hear over the roar of the engine.

The roar of the vehicle almost drowned out the man's voice but after her name was called, Cody looked over to watch his lips carefully as he spoke. Like the man she is 'babysitting,' Baker doesn't wear a uniform, she is dressed in the usual clothing of the region. Only for a man. Her white tunic, over time, has changed from quite clean to a creamy yellow. That is all thanks to the massive amount of dust and sand in the area. Her tanned pants are loose fitted and underneath it is quite obvious that she's wearing thin plates of body armor, perhaps one of the experimental suits.

"I'm not babysitting, Mister Lane." She yells back. She gives the man a pleasant smile, something to assure him that she's telling the truth. "I wanted to know what kind of weapons you guys were dealing…" Then she pauses, weighing her words and concerns before speaking up again, "…and what I'd have to face if they ever got into the wrong hands." It's something that happens all the time in this region, many of the operatives had been vying for the job Mark called babysitting.

Brows lift high on his head, appearing from behind those sunglasses, in surprise. "Really?" Interesting. His eyes turn back out to the road ahead, sooo much sand and scrub brush. He was yearning for his penthouse in DC. He could really use some whiskey a well.

Ducking his head when a particularly nasty bump threatens to make the tall man crack his skull on the roof, he shouts back, "Good to know that you all are taking a concern in that sort of thing. Cause truthfully… I'm a bit concerned about these weapons in the wrong hands as well." He's not afraid to voice it either, watching the Delta Force operative driving like a mad woman. "These are the brain child of our best scientists in our company. They are smart.. They can be programed or remotely flown in to a target."

"That sort of system… These missles, are much like the Predator planes, but a shorter range. Puts a new face on the Kamikaz… minus the loss of life."

Funny thing about the phrase wrong hands. While Cody and Mark may be talking in the abstract, the idea is about to get much more real. There's still a few minutes of chatting time that they have and then their horizon is about to explode. Quite literally. There's a loud whistling sound; that is their only warning that something bad is about to happen. A missile screams by the truck, missing it by mere inches before it crashes into the sand. The explosion rocks the Humvee and sand flies everywhere, showering onto the windshield and making it nearly impossible to see out of.

That means they can only hear several more loud whistles as more and more missiles rain down on their military vehicle. They rock it one way and another, one making a large opening right in front of them which will take serious evasive action in order to avoid. Bullets start to ping off the bullet proof armor on the sides, adding to the cacophony and chaos.

And this is the reason why Baker is driving like a mad woman. She told those assholes that she didn't want a humvee, they were too conspicuous, she might as well have been escorting the exec in a stretch limousine. "GET DOWN!!" She orders her guest, reaching over and clamping the back of his neck with her hand, forcing his head down between his knees. With one hand, she is doing the best she can to swerve and avoid the explosions of dirt and dust at either side. Then the bullets start to rain… and the needle on the gas guage starts to go down, too quickly.

A flick of the wrist on the steering wheel has her guestimating their chances of survival vs. the time they have to get to the rendezvous point. Why couldn't the air strip have been just a little closer. They were at least five miles from their destination. "We're going to have to jump!" she yells over the noise of the bombs and bullets. "Grab a gun! And for titty fucking sakes put the safety on!!" No, she's not mincing words.

One can only hope that the man has enough time, because in the next instant Cody is lunging over to his side and covering him with her body. The whistle of the next rocket is just a little too loud and with one hand, she unlatches the door, to send the two of them rolling out into the sand.

To Mark's credit, when the first missile hits, he ducks his head down as instructed and shouts a rather vulgar, "Oh shit…!" But he doesn't become a simpering fool, and whimper and moan like a scaredy cat. He is however, pretty damn psyched he's wearing the tan Kevlar vest that was insisted upon. Especially when a bullet punches through the window and hits his protected back. Of course, it still hurts. "Son of a bitch…" Hisses between his teeth in pain, glancing over at Baker to check on her. He gets to catch the sight of one of the other men, dressed in full gear, jerk wildly as he doesn't seem to lucky getting hit by a good amount of shrapnel and bullets.

While he doesn't often see this kind of action, Mark's been shot at before when he's gone traipsing around the world as Mark Scotts. So as the soldier in the back slumps over, Mark reaches back to grab the strap of the rifle the guy was carrying. His fingers just get around it and yanks it to him just in time for Baker to throw herself on him.. Whoa!.. and then he's tumbling in the sand. Not that he has time to think about the fact that he'll be getting sand in everything.

As Mark tumbles, he gets a glimpse of the end of the humvee dipping down into the crater cause by the explosion and go flipping.

To the credit to whoever is after them, once the two have bailed out of the humvee, it explodes. Not due to strange action adventure logic, but to another well aimed missile. Sand showers down on the two and suddenly there's a small army of men in camo and head covers running at them, surrounding the pair. By the time the two have come to a stop and recovered from jumping out of a fast moving vehicle, they'll be able to see they are in the middle of nowhere an the only people around that would be able to hear them call for help are the ones who were shooting at them.

There are shouts in Arabic - menacing and Mark and Cody can assume they are being told to stay down and not do anything stupid. Each of them have large rifles pointed straight at the two of them. Blessedly, the shooting and missiles have stopped for now. It seems like the two are wanted alive. If they try and fight their way out of it, however, that may change.

If there is anything Cody knows, it's the threat of an extremist. Casting a quick glance toward her ward, she gives him a very slight nod as though to signal him to do it. Her handgun is slowly cast to the side and she places her hands behind her head. It's rather unfortunate that she's in her current attire, being a woman, but much more fortunate that she's in plain clothing rather than a military uniform. After all, the uniforms didn't survive. Her shaggy black hair, hangs over her blue eyes, concealing that she isn't someone that belongs in the area.

Answering back in Arabic, she relays only the most basic of information. No names, no ranks, just two civilians being escorted to the test site. Hopefully, they will find use for the escort, at the very least use her as their translator.

"Well…" Mark says softly to the woman near him, blue eyes glance her way, as he lost his sunglasses in the tumble. "Can't say working as a defense contractor was boring." He's quick to let go of the rifle letting it drop to his feet with a clatter, he hands are held out flat until he can place them on his head, longer fingers lacing together.

Eyes move over the bad guys. "See if you can get any idea of what they want?" Mark might not like that he's in this situation, but better him then his own father or even worse, Dr. Ray, which might explain why his dad sent him instead. Smart move Pops, protect your assets.

As the bad guys shout at them, Mark frowns a bit. "And what in the hell are they saying?"

Realizing that one of them speaks Arabic, the almost indistinguishable shouting stops. The close circle surrounding the pair slowly starts to constrict around them, the guns pointed right at their heads. One steps forward and speaks for them all. His voice is firm, though he doesn't shout at them any more. «"You will come with us and you will not fight back.»

Four others step forward and yank away their weapons, roughly picking them up and marching them toward the hidden vehicles they came in.

Hours Later…

Cody and Mark find themselves in a barren cave. There are heavy duty doors welded into place and multiple rooms in the mountain these terrorists have made as their base. Their heads have been covered with thick black cloth covers so they did not see the way here, nor did they see the maze of hallways and rooms they were taken through until they were handcuffed to separate chairs. The cloths weren't even removed when the men who kidnapped them left the room - the sound of the heavy door slamming shut echoing against the cave walls.

Who knows how long it is before the hoods are pulled off. When their eyes adjust to the spotlights pointed straight at them, they will see a tall, bald man in mismatched army camo standing in front of him, his hands held calmly behind his back. "Hello." He smiles warmly at them and greets in a slightly accented English. "I trust that you are quite uncomfortable?"

It was impossible with the hood on her head for Cody to try to memorize the way to the cave. For the entire drive she counted silently to herself, it's useless to think that the terrorists took the most direct route to their base of operations. They're not that stupid. Regardless, it's a way to pass the time and at least guage how far they've gone. Hint, more than 10 miles.

Only when the room is completely silent and the woman is sure that they're alone does she address the arms dealer. Poor Mark, her thoughts rest primarily on keeping him alive and to that end the most his questions were answered with a curt. "Just be quiet, don't tell them anything more than they ask. I'll get us out of this."

Seconds tick by. Those seconds turn to minutes. By the time she reaches thirty, she's tired of counting. It doesn't matter how long they're left to their own devices, they're still being watched. When the hoods are finally removed, the woman squints her blue eyes against the light. "Your hospitality is appreciated," she answers a little too easily.

Hair a wild mess, not that he cares, it makes Mark look a little like a wild man when the cover is yanked off. Eyes shut tightly against the glare of light, he manages to slowly pry one open to look at the bald man and then scan the rest of the room, stopping long enough to assess Baker's condition. "Quite." Mark replies with a touch of mock pleasantness. When he looks back at who is more then likely the leader, both eyes are open and alert. "I take it, this is the new trend in terrorist sheik?" So much for staying completely quiet.

The bald man is scrutinized and studied, brows dropped low in concern and curiosity. What the hell this man could want with the rich son….. okay, Mark can think of a few things, but he keeps them to himself.

A single eyebrow raises at Cody's comment. "There is no need to call a—" he pauses and thinks for a moment, "How do you say, call a spade anything other than a spade?" He shifts slightly so that he is standing in front of the woman, studying her. "You are handcuffed to a chair in some godforsaken cave. Will I kill you, you ask. Will I ransom you? Will I send one of you back without limbs as a warning for the others I'm sure are out there somewhere? There is no need for pleasantries." Each of these are not the sort of things either of them will want to happen, he assumes.

Then, he takes a step or two to the other side in front of Mark. "You will, of course, excuse our surroundings. I am sure you've read about how we all have palaces somewhere that we are taking from the poor in order keep ourselves with robes made of threads of gold. That is not quite the case here." He tilts his head just slightly and steps backward. "Your people has taken so much from us. And so now it is our turn."

Indeed, Cody really doesn't feel like turning up to be the latest decapitation on the internet. She's rather certain Mark doesn't either. A sideward glance is given to her fellow prisoner but she remains silent. Hers isn't exactly the gift of gab, she's never been known to mince words when action is required. So she bides her time. The bald man is studied, his words memorized and stored for later, his voice.. that is most important. The inflection, the tone, the calm demeanor in which he addresses both of them. It's unnerving, really.

As he speaks to Mark, Baker tests her handcuffs, tracing her fingers along every reachable part. Mental mapping is a little more difficult when only using fingertips, but her reserves of cellular garbage won't last so she refrains from anything else for now.

"Actually… no… this…. this is about what I picture for your sort." One would think Mark would have the decency to act like the scared spoiled American play boy, "Though I'll excuse it if you'd like." He offers their capture a thin lipped smile, that holds no hint of humor to it, and it quickly slips away. He knows his only hope lies with Baker, so he keeps the man's attention on Mark.

"Not sure what you hope to get from us," Mark glances at anyone else in the room with them. He can't help but wonder it they know who he is. So… he tests the waters. "It's not like I'm some VIP."

"Oh, no no. We do not hold much in the way of spectacle here, Mr. Lane. Feel free to excuse or not excuse as you please." The way that Leader tosses the words off at Mark, it's a name that he's familiar with. This was not a random hit, oh no. So, yes, Mark, these people know who he is. Whether that is scarier or not is entirely up to them.

"It is not what I expect to get from you, sir. It is what I expect to get from your father." At that, he smiles a toothy smile and looks back toward Cody, not wanting her to think he forgot her. Though he doesn't address her, he stares at her just for a moment before shifting his eyes back to his main target - which has now been made quite clear.

"We have read your website, Mr. Lane. It is interesting, I must say. These human weapons seem to be even more powerful than those that your father enjoys making." His hands unwind themselves from behind his back and he makes a fist. "I am sure that he has a few of these that he can spare, if you will."

Turning quickly to face Mark, Cody's eyebrows furrow just a little bit as she considers what their captor has brought up. Her packet detailing her ward hadn't mentioned anything about a website, or even the possibility that Lane Industries was trading in human weaponry. It was a concept that her own division of the forces had tried to keep a secret for a very long time. When she's given the scrutinizing look, she just narrows her eyes a little, giving a hard glare back. "What are you talking about? Human weaponry.." she spits out, the sneer on her face displaying her disgust at the notion. "He's here as a consultant, nothing more."

Oh… that's just…. great. That deflates Mark's bubble a bit. "Oh… so… you know about that do you?" It's not like he keeps his website a secret, The Mysterious Truth even has a few photos from some of his expeditions, but human weapons? His scruffy jaw shifts to one side and then the others in thought. "I wouldn't say.. they are weapons. Just plain people like me and…. well…. me, getting by in life."

"As for my father's weapons, I can't exactly say either way if we have any to spare." Giving their capture an apologetic look, Mark adds a touch blandly, "That's something you'll have to ask him yourself… but then I imagine that's what you have planned?" A brow lifts a bit, as he watches him.

"Quite." Leader gives Cody a weak smile, but again doesn't address her. Now that he has focused on the task at hand. After a short pause, he looks back over at Mark. "People can always be weapons. This has been the case for quite awhile. It is a matter of how useful they can be." Plain people have no real meaning to him. There are people who are useful, and there are the people who are not. "Yes, you may be getting by in life for now. But that may not be the case shortly, hm?"

"I am sure he can find a few things he has lying about when he hears about my offer." Of course, he has no need to tell the two of them what that offer will entail. It never lends itself well for the hostages. Leader barks something at the guards against the wall in an obscure village dialect and they open the door just enough to allow him to pass it. "Please, enoy our hospitality." His words contain the smirk they can be sure he is wearing as he twists Cody's words back at her. They will remain handcuffed to their chairs and the lights will remain trained on them. Leader slips through the door to the cave beyond and the door closes with a the sounds of locks sliding into place. The two guards remain with the hostages.

Ignoring the guards, Cody turns toward Mark and raises both of her eyebrows, as though expecting him to explain himself. "Seems there's a little bit about you that the dossier left out. Care to tell me about the website Mister Lane?" She tests her handcuffs, rattling the metal of the restraint against the metal of the chair. This garners a warning shout from one of the guards, causing her to desist in her action. Eventually, the guards will become bored and turn their attention to each other or whatever daydreams it is they have. Perhaps ridding the world of the Western infestation, perhaps even something as simple as ridding the world of the captives.

The eldest Lane boy watches the man slips out quietly, but as soon as the door shuts, Mark lets out a hissed. "Shit…" A glance at Cody, he frowns, a line creasing there, a sign that he's not all that young. ".. we… are fucked." He murmurs, leaning over so that the words don't have to be spoken very loud. "I think my dad accounted for this." He offers up, his tone flat and unhappy.

A sheepish glance goes to Cody, but then he looks away at the guards. "It's… complicated. I didn't think people took it that serious." Lips press tightly together before he asks carefully… "Ever heard of 'The Mysterious Truth?" Finally, his blue eyes move to look at her, to see if there is any recognition there.

"We're not fucked, it's just a temporary setback." Cody says calmly and quietly, maybe just a little too calmly. She's fairly self assured and she's been counting. The amount of steps from the car to the cavern, how many turns, which way they were turned. All of it is burned into her memory. She's been wasting no brain power on the little things like negotiation, the pair of them are nothing but examples of a decadent society that must be expunged. "There's a reason why you were assigned to us, Lane, this is what we're good at."

Turning to look at him again, she clenches her jaw and shakes her head. She doesn't like admitting not knowing things, but in this case it's probably to her advantage to do so. "No, I'm not exactly well versed in the pop culture of Western society. Is it like Ripley's or something?"

"You don't understand." Mark's eyes widen a bit as she explains. "This guy asks my dad for anything. My father will literally tell him to 'Fuck off.'" A humorless smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I don't know if you read my dad's profile.. He comes from a mob family, not exactly the easy to negotiate type. Not to mention…." Mark glances at the guards and turns his head away enough to say. "I'm expendable."

"Anyhow…. The website is about mysteries.. Loch Ness… Big foot… People with powers… like pyrokenetics… telepathy." Mark sighs a bit. "I don't exactly think of my site as an advertisement for human weapons." He shakes his head a bit and flashes her a toothy grin. "And my father doesn't like people knowing his oldest son is some crazy nut job."

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