Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Burn Notice or any other TV show reference I may use. Don't sue, okay? Also, I own all mistakes from here on. M for later chapters.
A/N 1: So, I chose to write a prologue for this story. Enjoy!
"People with happy families don't become spies. A bad childhood is the perfect background for covert ops. You don't trust anyone, you're used to getting smacked around, and you never get homesick." – Michael Westen
Prologue
The tall man shoved his fist on the prisoner's face in front of him, effectively sending the bloody man flying across the room still bound in the wooden chair.
"Marcus." The man talks to the prisoner in a cold voice. "Don't you think you've had enough? All you have to do is tell me where Simon is." He says in a tone that would scare anyone who's not used to the chaotic world of espionage.
Marcus eyes his captor intently. He knows that if he doesn't give the man what he wants, he'll be dead within the hour in the most creative way he could possibly think of. But then again, who's to say that he will not be dead if ever he decides to give up Simon's location. The man in front of him was as ruthless as the devil. In his opinion, the man is a psycho who's spinning out of control. Yeah, hunger for power does that to a man. With his bloody eye, Marcus squints and regards the man with such disdain as if he was a sickening speck of germ.
When the man in front of him sees Marcus' expression, his lips formed a snarl. He doesn't like being mocked. With that, his foot connected on Marcus' chin, relieving the bound man of another tooth. Tears stung the prisoner's eyes as he takes in the pain and fought to stay awake.
"I do not know where Simon is! I'm telling you the truth! If you let me go, I'll even help you find the son of a bitch!" Marcus says in a pleading tone. Of course, he knows that his efforts to deceive the man in front of him would be futile. Anyone with rigorous covert op. training will never fall for that trick. But there's no harm in trying. At the very least, he would know that he tried to pull every trick possible in his currently very limited book to escape his impending doom.
The man in front of him lets out a laugh. It was not boisterous. It was not even mocking. Marcus could not describe the sound. All he knows is that it made all the hair at the back of his neck stand in attention. Yeah, there's no doubt about it. The man in front of him is pure evil. Even the most seasoned operative would get chills upon hearing the man's laugh and seeing his lifeless eyes.
"Marcus...Marcus...Marcus...I'm disappointed. I would have thought that you would know better than to pull a play like that." The man now trains a long piece of metal with a thick rubber handle. The prisoner's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the weapon. He knows that he would most likely lose his consciousness after the 10,000-electric volt from the weapon hits him. He tries to prepare himself for the shock as the man in front of him started to raise the shiny black metal above his head.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Marcus slowly opened his eye to see where the interruption came from. He saw his captor reaching for the mobile phone across the room. The bloody man tries to perk his ears up to pick up on the conversation. His eyes widened upon realizing that the person on the other side of the phone is Simon.
"Hello? Hello who is this?" And the man paused. His eyes narrowed. "Simon?" Marcus heard him say.
"Where are you?" The man says in a tone with only a faint hint of mockery. From where he was sitting, the prisoner can see in his peripheral that the man's jaws tensed ever so slightly. It was only for a split second and the man's face returned to its normal, emotionless form. Marcus chuckles inwardly because even if he is not able to hear Simon's words, he knows that his friend was yanking the tall man's chains. Only Simon can get that kind of reaction even from the most expressionless people.
He watches the man's expression for faint changes. The prisoner eyes his captor warily as the man's face shows a brief hint of rage.
"Simon I don't know what you're—" and the man stops speaking because of what Marcus assumes to be his friend's blatant interruption. He watches carefully as the man's expression turns into a smirk.
"You gave us no choice. We know you've been working against us." With this, the man chuckled and let out a hollow sound. The prisoner watches again as his captor's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Simon. Why do you always have to make things hard? Wouldn't you want to say hello to Marcus?" The tall man catches Marcus' gaze and fixed him a cold glare. The man's expression hardened and his fists clenched around the table beside him.
It's really like watching a bipolar when Marcus saw the man's eyes sparkle in glee. He turns to the phone in his hand and says, "Don't flatter yourself Simon. There are a lot of talents out there. Nobody is irreplaceable." The man listened for Simon's response and his eyes once again showed the amused and excited spark.
"Oh we found a replacement, alright. Very promising indeed." The man says followed by a low chuckle. "Name's Quinn. Quinn Fabray." He says again with the same glint in his eyes.
"And if she doesn't work out, there'll be another. The work continues." Marcus hears the man say with such finality and coldness that it shattered all his hopes of escaping.
The prisoner looks up just as his captor put down the phone. A renewed energy just like that of a madman's is radiating out of the man wielding the weapon intended to punish him. The madman in front of Marcus regards him with cold eyes once again. And when he raises his arms, this time, there was no longer a phone to provide interruption.
A crack resounds across the room accompanied with a faint hint of light buzzing sounds emitted by the cattle prod. There was a short sizzle of electricity making contact with flesh. And Marcus' world turns into a dark oblivion.
A/N 2: Please review. Oh, and I'm overwhelmed with the hits. Squee! This is my first fic. and I'm just so excited.