A/N: Thank you for the continuous support and reviews. Really brightens my day! :)

Be aware that there will be some violence in this chapter, so if that's not your cup of tea, I apologize. Hope you enjoy!


Chapter 4: Unaware

He parked the convertible in the driveway, next to his Jeep that he would use when going to the beach. It was a bit earlier than he would usually return home, but given that he went into work a little past four in the morning because he could not sleep, he decided that was all right. A nice afternoon and evening relaxing would be just the therapy his overworked body needed. It was always like this when Minerva came up with new products or systems. His job to protect the intellectual property of the company from rivals and competitors could get very daunting, but the feeling of success when it was all over and the company's new developments in technology was protected made it almost worth it.

As he put the keys into the front door he could hear scratching coming from the other side. No doubt his four-legged best friend would be excited to see him earlier than what he usually would. The door flung open, and an extremely excited mutt greeted Marty, whom as per usually met the dog with an abundance of scratching. First right behind the ears until Monty rolled over on his back to allow continued petting on his stomach, the scratch reflex of the dog charming according to Marty, because the Deeks' certainly weren't adorable, he though.

"Yes, you are a good boy!" he said cheerily after the petting session was over, "Wanna go out for a run?"

At the mention of going for a run, the wagging of Monty's tail increased tenfold. While the retired police dog never could be accused of having a high energy level, he sure made up for the lack of physical energy in the way he became so easily excited for practically anything. A quick switch into running clothes and the leash snapped onto the collar, the two scruffy characters went for a longer run than what they usually would.

Upon returning from the run, sweaty but feeling good about himself, coming down from the infamous running high, Marty did not notice the unfamiliar black sedan parked further up the street as he entered his house once again. He dropped the, very expensive, food in Monty's bowl, convinced that his four-legged companion often ate better than he did, and made sure the scruffy dog had plenty of water. Monty could empty a lake after a run like that, and dehydration was not on the list of things wanted.

The shower turned off, he stepped out of the en suite bathroom and into his bedroom to get dressed. Not one to usually walk around in very much clothes in his house, since Monty did not mind and most of his one-day guests certainly seemed to prefer him without any at all, he decided it was just a bit too early in the day to strut around wearing only his birthday suit. Grabbing a pair of boxer briefs and a pair of board shorts neglecting a shirt since his hair was still drying off and any shirt would just get wet.

As he stepped out of his bedroom, he was immediately met with a fist connecting to his solar plexus instantly knocking all air out of Marty's body, leaving him huffed over and coughing. Several other fists flying towards his liver, another weak spot. The pain eradiating out to the rest of his body, his brain short circuiting rendering him unable to do anything but shake, fighting his body to try regain any shimmer of control over it.

Roughly led back into the bedroom, still fighting his body to gain control, his hands quickly tied together and hoisted over his head, looping around the sturdy ceiling fan he finally regained enough control to look up and around, spotting two masked men. Another punch aimed at his unkempt jawline, the man barked the heavily accented question at him, "Where is the flash drive?"

The what? Marty thought to himself, now knowing what the two men wanted, but unable to figure out what exact flash drive they may be speaking off. He did have plenty of those he reasoned, but he left the ones with classified information in regards to intellectual property and patents at work. No way would he bring it home, a less secure location.

"What flash drive?" Sounded the reply, now having finally caught his breath once again. It almost sounded too cliché, like a sub quality action movie, where one could predict all the lines before spoken.

"The flash drive," punch, "that Mitchell," another punch, "gave you!" a third punch. All aimed at his left side ribs, go figure the assailant was right handed, all the violent people in Marty's life had seemed to be. He went over what was just said. Wait, he said a Mitchell gave it to him. Now he had no idea what they were talking about, not being able to remember anyone with that name.

"No idea what you're talking about." He coughed. Now determined to defy the two who seemingly had all the control. He had dealt with punches before, during his all too short childhood he had learned to take the pain and not show any outwards emotion other than the natural physical reaction to the strikes. He could do this. They wore masks, and he had seen enough crime thrillers that he knew that meant there was a chance that they would probably let him live. Bring it, he thought.

After several more punches aimed at his midsection one of the men exited the bedroom, returning a few minutes later he closed the door behind him, now carrying a bowl of what seemed like ice water in his other hand. Great. Now they certainly did not need to pull any punches anymore, able to instantly ice their knuckles, a tactic he had often felt the effects of, from his sorry excuse of a father, Gordon, when using it during his not so childlike childhood. Not that it seemed like they had been pulling punches, given that his left ribs were now screaming in pain as if on fire.

After Marty had decided that defiance would be his best measure of defense, he had not uttered a single word. Huff and puffs when being hit, sure, but no actual words were said. Seeing as he actually had no idea what flash drive they wanted, he really could not give them what they wanted anyways. If they knew his lack of knowledge thereof, they could decide he was of no use to them anymore and off him.

Continuously switching sides and hands to vary the blows, the entire midsection of the tough lawyer now reddened from the assault. Mentally assessing the damage done thus far, a few cracked ribs seemed quite plausible, as well as a guarantee of a plethora of bruises in all colors of the rainbow, looking down he could see them already beginning to show their ugly face.

The men stepped back from him and one of them started speaking disturbingly soft to him, as one would coerce a child before they would have them do an activity they would loathe. "We have all day. We're in no rush, and we can continue this for as long as we'd like. Just give us the information we need. Where is the flash drive?" Outwards, that merely earned the man an indifferent stare from the restrained figure, but inside Marty was increasingly worried at the sudden change in demeanor.

Something about the indifferent look made the other man snap, assaulting his chest and midsection with a few strikes aimed at his face just to change it up a little, splitting both his lip and left eyebrow. Based on the blood now slowly trickling down his face, he figured, that the two masked men were used to getting results using that creepy, whisper like way of questioning. Nevertheless, not today, Marty thought to himself. Just call me 'Marty Defiance Deeks', he thought and a small smirk appeared on his face. He had learned from an early age to retreat into himself during a beating, he knew how to handle this.

Once again, a small break in the beating occurred, and a scratching on the door was able to be heard now that the grunting and sounds from fists hitting the reddened torso was momentarily stopped.

Not a lot of facial attributes nor expressions could be seen on the two assailants seeing as they were wearing balaclavas, but an alarming grin started to spread on one of the two. He started nodding to himself, as the grin grew wider as if really pleased with whatever thought process was going on.

"It seems we really can't make you talk by beating the crap out of you," he said with a disconcerting chuckle before turning dead serious, "but what about that mangy mutt of yours?"

That elicited the first reaction in a while from the otherwise defiant man, "Don't you dare touch him!"

A chuckle turning into a sinister laughter started spreading throughout the spacious room. Slowly taking steps towards the scratching noise coming from outside the room he reached and opened the door. Allowing entrance to the worried dog, who instantly ran towards his owner, standing protectively between his legs, even though he had been a bomb sniffer, the police dog training still deeply engraved in tense situations.

The man who had opened the door once again stood in front of the lawyer, now with the mutt standing firmly between his legs. He stared at the beaten man willing him to meet his eyes. Once he did a feral grin spread across his face, "Now let's try this again, shall we?"