2010-01-26: FB: The Terrorist Treatment



Cameo by:


Date Set: January 26, 2010


Mark's having a bit of a bad day as he's 'roughed up' for a picture that is sent to his father. Cody asks him about the human weapons and Mark doesn't hesitate to tell her the truth.

One Year Ago…

"The Terrorist Treatment"

The United States and Kuwait

Home of Marcus Thomas Lane II

The digital ring of his cell phone had gone off about 3am in the morning, waking Marcus and his wife from a rather deep slumber. With an unhappy groan, the head of Lane Industries reaches for the offending phone, groping about until his pinkie finger was jarred against the nightstand.

"Son of a…"

"Marky! Language." His wife, Margaret, snapped in a whisper giving him a disappointed look.

He always hated that nickname. He was over sixty year old, well past the age for such names. He should say something, but like always he mutters a "Sorry dear." over the shrill scream of his cell.

With a grunt, he rolls over and clumsily pushes himself up to sit, snatching up the phone. Flipping it open he growls out, "This better damn well be good." His old Chicago borough thickening in his irritation.

The nervous tittering of his assistant Mary, shrill to his ears, comes over the phone, «I'm… I'm sorry Mr. Lane, but I thought you should know that the Defense Department called.» She pauses as if afraid to go any further.

"Mary, spit it out, eh? I'd like to at least get a full six hours of sleep, bad enough I gotta get up and piss every hour."

"Marky!" Margaret gasps from her side of the bed, shuffling about so that she can glare at him. "That is not how a professional business man talks!"

"Sorry dear… just go back to sleep." Marcus climb to his feet stiffly, shoving feet in slippers and pulling on his robe. "I'll take this in my office dear." And as fast as his arthritic legs will carry him, he's out the door and down the hall to his office. "Okay, talk to me Mary. Was the testing that bad? Is Mark screw it up with his psycho babble about spooks and bigfeet?"

«Bigfoot sir…»

"I don't care if it's the fucking tooth fairy. Tell me what they said." Is practically shouted at the nervous assistant. Marcus was never a morning person really. Shutting his office door, he moves to the little cabinet in the corner to retrieve some scotch, deep down he knows he'll need it.

«Well, sir…. It's about Mark. Seems one of the local terror cells attacked his truck.» That makes the senior Mark, pause in checking the label of his scotch and reaching for a glass. Encouraged by the silence the woman continues, «He's alive… Um… I sent something to your personal computer, sir. Your going to want to see it.»

The bottle is set down and Marcus moves to his computer, turning it on. "So your telling me he's a prisoner of some fanatics?"

«Yes, Mr. Lane.»

Just wonderful. Not the first time he got into trouble, but it's the first time it affected Marcus's business. Bringing up his email, Marcus pulls up the message in question. What he sees makes him pale a bit, but he keeps his composure. "Any idea who has him Mary?"

«Not a one sir. But the Department of Defense is on it.»

"Keep me up on it. Round the clock. Though I don't want Margret to know." The mouse slips across the black pad on his desk as he clicks on the file. The image of his son sitting in a chair, squinting at a bright light squints back at him. His face smudges and scraped, but so far good.

The voice that comes out of the computer's speaks is digitalized to the point he almost can't understand it, with the accent and all.

"Mr. Lane. We have your son. I will be calling you soon, I suggest you answer. We have much to discuss you and I. Should you refuse to talk… well…. I can not guarantee you son's safety."

"Mary…. get me the Department of Defense." There is a cold edge to the man's voice. It's enough to send chills down the spine.

«It's 3am in the morning!.» She sound like she's calling him crazy.

"And?" With that Marcus Thomas Lane II terminates the call. Leaning back in his leather chair, he stares at the screen.

Not much to do but wait.

Cave on the Border of Kuwait

Running the tip of his tongue along one cheek, making it stick out funny. Turning his head aside suddenly, he spits another mouth of blood on the cave floor. Squinting at it, Marcus Thomas Lane III is wishing he had his glasses. "I think that last one broke a tooth." He states gruffly, his throat dry from the dry air. Poking at the offending tooth he grimaces. "Yeah… he broke one."

Blue eyes flick over to his fellow prisoner, giving her a humorless smile. "Never understand why they feel they have to rough you up for photos." He grouses, letting his head hang forward as he shifts his weight to relieve a cramp. "How you holding up?"

Both of their guards are relaxing on metal folding chairs, one is snoring lightly, the other is doing the head bob, looking like one of those little bobble heads you put on the dash of a car. The American's have been there for forty eight hours already, thought it feels like a week to Mark. But they haven't really seen the Leader of the outfit since that first day. It was a pair of burly bruisers that beat him up a little, and also took a photo and left them to their own again.

Cody is watching their guards intently until the head bobber finally drifts off. Then she shifts her position and hunches over her cuffs until there's a small click. With a wary look back to their jailers, she lifts one finger to her lips and then stretches her arms out working her shoulders to relieve all of the kinks and allow the blood to flow again. Quite silently, she stands up and stretches her legs out by shifting her weight from side to side.

After about five minutes of stretching, she sits back down in her chair and clips the handcuff back onto her wrist. "I'm good, I'll be better once I figure out a way to loose the guards and where the cameras are in this place." She works the muscles in her neck in a small attempt to keep limber. "And to answer your question… They rough you up to make whoever is getting their ransom messages hurry. Though, if we don't get out of here on our own, it's likely we won't ever get out at all."

Brows shoot up high on his head at the sound of the click, trying to twist around to see how she did it. "What —?" Mark twists just right and his side seizes up in a cramp. "Ow…owowow " He stretches his body the other way, watching her stretch. "What are you, Baker? MacGyver?" There is a touch of amusement in his voice, though it goes flat as she clicks the cuffs back into place.

Another spit wad of bloody mucus hits the sandy floor. "Ug.. never get use to that taste." Mark straights up, stretching his back. "Yeah, we'll need to get out of here on our own, I really don't think my father will willingly give over weapons for his son. The right amount of money, yeah."

"Doesn't matter what the demands are, Lane. U.S. policy is not to trade with terrorists. The life of one doesn't equal the life of many and all that stuff. All we have to do is make sure we don't die on the internet." Cody goes silent for a few minutes, apparently she's deep in thought again. Giving him a bit of an apologetic look, her lips purse and straighten into a thin line at his continued blood spitting. "Just don't go swallowing it. If you start throwing up they'll think you're sick and that'll speed up your time limit.

"As for the MacGuyver thing, this is what I'm trained to do." Pause. "Not the being captured part, specifically, but the getting you out part. The cuffs are the easy bit, so is getting out of this godforsaken hole in the mountain. The hard part is getting out of the area without getting blown up again." Looking over at him, she raises an eyebrow and licks her dry lips. "Somehow I doubt they keep the keys to their jeeps in the ignition."

"Good point, Baker." Mark states blandly, momentarily forgetting to think about how the US will react. This is not how to make one look smart. Scuffing a foot on the dirt floor he covers up the offending red. "Just tell me what to do when, cause personally, I don't want to be a YouTube video either."

Giving a little hop and a shift, he turns his chair a bit towards her. "If there are keys in their jeeps, I would be surprised." He agrees. "Even I know this isn't a movie." He studies her curiously. "Well, if this is your training, then I'm glad you got the task. I'm pretty damn impressed, Baker." He gives her a lop-sided smirk. "Plus, being a woman, somehow they don't see you as too big a threat, other wise they woulda done worse to you."

"Keep yourself valuable and don't worry about me." Cody shifts in her chair, stretching her legs out straight in front of her, the position gives her a little bit of a slouching posture. Then, she sits up suddenly, accidentally kicking the chair to emit a clang. One of the guards snorts awake, somewhat, but seeing them still sitting in their chairs he drifts off quickly again. The black haired woman doesn't move for a few minutes, just to make sure the guard is asleep before speaking again. "Tell me about these human weapons they want."

"Valuable.. yeah.. right." Mark grumbles, but then jumps in his chair as she kicks the metal of the chair, the sound rings loud in the mostly empty room. Takes him a few moments to get his heart back to a normal beat and not thundering in his chest.

"The human weapons?" Mark asks, arching a brow. He glances at the guards, leaning back and stretching out one of his legs. "Well, it's simply people I heard rumors about." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Some lady in Texas several year back blows up her house, with her in it.. killing her daughter… Only rumor really.. Guy in New York seen flying." Glancing at her, he gives her a sheepish smile. "I go to look for these rumored special people. Those are what he's talking about. I have a section on my website devoted to them. I get the highest hits to that part of the site." He murmurs thoughtfully.

"Anyhow," He continues with a shake of his head. "I've mostly kept records on the rumors. I found one… lovely woman." his voice trails off a bit. "She went missing recently." Mark frowns a bit in thought. "Either way, I think our mysterious leader guy, sees them as potential weapons, but most of the people I've met are just normal folks trying to get by."

The black haired woman watches Mark intently as he relays the story about the people he's devoted so much of his time and energy to. She frowns when he frowns about the lovely woman going missing and sets her jaw. "Normal folks trying to get by can be dangerous," she says in a low tone. "Most people will do anything they can to stay alive, even if it means giving up everything they've believed in up until that point."

The silence of the cavern is nearly deafening when they're not talking, almost enough to make a person go insane. Thankfully, it is interrupted frequently by the low rumbling snores of their captors. "What do you think of these people? The ones you're looking for. Why are you looking for them? Is it just to put them up on your website for people to point at?"

"I don't exactly put them up there to be pointed at." Mark sounds a bit irritated about that, obviously an argument he's had before. "Names are changed. I don't give details that points to them and no photos. I'm just there reporting the truth that these people exsist." A glances goes to the Delta Force operative. "These people, Baker? These people are real. While I found some evidence of the yeti… nothing solid. I've seen these people with my own eyes." He sounds almost fascinated by the fact there could be real people with super powers.

His eyes droop a bit as he gives a little resigned look, "Course, people like my father, think I'm crazy." Mark grins, glancing over at her, "So if you don't believe me, I won't feel insulted. It'll be par for the course."

"You're not crazy." Cody admits, possibly only for the second time in her entire life. She doesn't explain much further though, preferring to study the man as he resigns himself to be denied once again. "To tell you the truth, I'm a little bit worried about what would happen if they were used as weapons. Normal people are dangerous enough. Add something that negates a hand held weapon and you will never know what you're looking for. It's difficult enough to pick the terrorists from the 'regular' people."

The woman never takes her eyes off of him as she speaks, "I'd almost prefer it if it were yeti that he wanted from you instead of these people. But it gives me a little piece of mind…" And with that, she gives the man a small smile. Though she's a little bit roughed up from their initial accident, she's been relatively untouched. They haven't used her to get any information, possibly thinking that she was a translator and nothing more. "We're going to get out of this, Mark. Don't worry, I'll get you back to the States somehow."

Mark mirrors her small smile and then sighs, "Yeah, admittedly, I realize how dangerous these people are, but some of them are actually not bad." His brows lift a bit as he thinks back. "One person I met was a father of two girls, loves his girls. He has to stay away from electrical devices, cause he can short them out." Her lifts a shoulder so that he can scrub his scruffy cheek against it to stop an itch.

"I'm holding you to that… By the way. Get me back to the states and I'll owe you a dinner and a beer." Mark states it so matter of factly, it's lacking in any flirting under tones. "Cause I haven't heard of many terrorists guest living to give their opinions on the accommodations to Orbits.com."

Slumping further in the chair, Mark lets his head lean back, eyes closing for a moment with a sigh. "Next time my father wants to send me to the Middle East, I think I'll tell him where he can shove those plane tickets."

"Look on the bright side, Lane, if you'd never come I wouldn't have had the privilege of meeting the guy behind that website." Only Cody could find amusement in a situation such as this. Well anyone but her and the wisecracker next to her. "You know, when you do get back to the States you should write a review. I'll add my stars if I ever get on a computer."

It almost seems as though their guards are down for the count. Letting off a little wolf whistle, Cody tests them to make sure. Nothing. "So how easy do you think it would be for you to fake being one of those people? Or would you be able to?" The question is posed with a little bit of a musing tone. "If we can make him think you're one of those human weapons he's looking for, he might take it easy on your pretty teeth." Then another smile is directed his way.

That get a bark of laughter, lacking any amusement. "Me?" Mark glances over at her, brows lifting in a 'Are you serious?' look. Then it fades away as he turns thoughtful, followed by his eyes narrowing at her suspiciously. "You have an idea don't you?" A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Come on.. I am all ears and we have all night by the looks of it. Lay it on me Baker."

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