Maureen opened the door the moment Collins knocked, as if she had been waiting right next to the door. "Baby, what's wrong?" Joanne asked with concern. "What's going on?" Maureen just waved them all over to the couch.
"I found this addressed to us on the front mat," she said, waving a cassette tape. "Watch."
The scene opened up to a bit of shaking, as if it were held by hands other than the one of the filmmaker who owned it. Eventually, the shaking stopped.
"Who are you? Where the hell am I?"
Roger sighed in relief. His friend was alright, although his hair looked a little mussed, and his glasses somewhat askew.
"Hey, my camera! What are you doing with it?" He held back a little smile. No matter what the situation, the camera was Mark's baby, and God knew how many times he had taken a tumble trying to protect the old thing. "Why the fuck am I here? What the hell is going on?" They ignored him.
"You realize you got a guy from the East Village, right? My friends and I are broke." The camera shook again, and they saw a mess of limbs flying before seeing Mark held aloft by his scarf, trying desperately to free himself.
"Shut up," the thug growled at him, before dropping him to his knees. They all winced.
Roger and Collins had definitely been in some tangles back in the day, Maureen, Joanne, and Mimi had gotten in a couple of catfights, and even Angel had kicked some ass when some skinhead tried to grab her purse… but Mark… Mark had always been the good boy, taking a punch or two to break up the fight, but never getting provoked or provoking others, choosing to take the high road and let his pride take a beating. Mark was the one who couldn't defend himself against a freaking kitten…
"Mr. Cohen, we know exactly who you are. We needed to ask you a little favor."
Mark scowled at him. "There are better ways to ask someone than beating the shit out of them."
The man frowned. "I'm here as a representative of the Grey family. We understand you are close to one Maureen Johnson, and are asking you to persuade her to stop her protest. We don't want to get the police involved."
"So, let me get this straight; you beat me up, you kidnap me, Mr. Nice Guy over here half-strangles me to death, and now you want me to get one of my friends to stop protesting what you're doing to us?"
Roger groaned. Of all the times to grow some balls, Mark…
"Mr. Cohen, there will be a healthy reward if you can assist us. You're close to Ms. Johnson, and we're certain that if anyone can change her mind, you can. We're committed to stopping this at all costs."
Maureen scowled. What kind of man couldn't even bother to approach her on his own, instead trying to get her buddies to do it for them? Not that she would change her mind either way, but still…
They watched Mark stop to think about it, although they already knew what he was going to say. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to refuse your offer." Good old Mark. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going." They watched him turn towards the door, then watched in shock as the thug pulled him back, his head hitting the wall with an audible crack.
"Then I'm afraid we'll have to persuade Ms. Johnson another way. Ms. Johnson, if you don't cancel your protest before your curtain opens on Saturday evening, Mr. Cohen may not make it back in one piece. And, as an incentive…"
"Wait, who are you talking to?" They heard their friend ask, his voice panicked. They watched him look straight at the camera, then his eyes widen in realization. "Shit, are you filming this? Maureen, don't do it, you need to-" The image went blurry again, but there was the sound of a hard smack, and when the camera refocused, the right lens of Mark's glasses was cracked, and there was a large purple bruise beginning to form on his cheek.
"Every day you wait, Mr. Cohen will become more and more acquainted with the meaning of pain. Make your decision." The screen went black, and they sat there, horrified.
Roger's hands were trembling as he stood up and punched the wall with all of his might. "God damn it!" he yelled. A soft hand on his arm brought him out of his rage, as he turned around and clutched Mimi close to him. Angel comforted a shaking Collins, and Joanne was keeping a furious Maureen from running out the door and beating the shit out of those bastards who were hurting their Mark.
Finally calm, Maureen's fury turned to fright. "What are we going to do?" she whispered softly, gripping Joanne's arm tightly.
Roger's eyes hardened. "We need to find Benny."