Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target or and intend no copyright infringement.
WHO'S CHEATING WHO PART 10
Author's notes: It is finally starting to take form.
Guerrero looked over at Winston and Ames. "Alright, we need to really think about our approach to this guy. He most likely has one too many adversaries in this country. Akos can supply us with resources. Ames, I'm gonna need you to cause a disturbance on the West end of the compound. We can make a cover for you. Winston, you're running ops as always and I will try and find an alternative way in while Ames does her thing. We need to be as quick as we can so that-"
"Where do I fit in?" Chance was walking into the room drying his hair. He was freshly showered and was ready to participate in the mission.
Winston got up. "Can I talk to you in private Chance?"
He nodded and walked out of the room. Winston sighed heavily and looked at him directly. "Chance look. You know I respect you man, I really do. But I think you need to stay back on this one. In the shadows, maybe helping me out."
"What's that's supposed to mean? You have a problem with me going in? I am perfectly fine."
"Hey man, I know you're good at what you do, but this is Ilsa we are talking about. I know what's been going on. To be perfectly honest, it doesn't bother me in the least, but I know a woman can affect a man's judgment in a heated situation."
"Look Winston, whatever is going on between us has nothing to do with work. Ilsa is a member of the team and she needs my-" He hesitated and Winston raised an eyebrow. "She needs our help."
"Chance, look, I mean no disrespect. But I saw what happened to you when you lost Katherine. It was a bad scene all around and you closed your world up. Including me. I know it's hard. I have a significant other that I lost and I don't care how strong you are…it hurts man..it really hurts. Now if you run up into that place trying to save Ilsa and she is already gone, I don't know if I can watch you fall apart again."
"Winston, I already told you, I will be fine. Whether she's dead or alive, we still need to try." With that, he walked back to finish gathering details about their attempt to save Ilsa. Winton could only shake his head at the stubborn man. In reality, they had no clue what Harmen's plans were, but they could only cross their fingers and hope Ilsa was ok.
Ilsa walked over to the window of the warehouse. She could see slits of sunlight coming into the room. For as dark as her last few days had been, it was welcomed. She could see a small courtyard outside of the window. There were a few soldiers playing with a stray dog, while others played cards and smoked cigarettes. They were all outfitted with automatic weapons and sidearms. She could only see partially around the rest of the building because the angle of the window was set awkwardly. She sighed heavily and went to get dressed.
Once completed, she opened the door and was immediately greeted by a soldier in a clean well pressed uniform. He could not have been more than twenty years old. He looked at her and blushed. "Um, hello. Miss…I mean, um Mrs. Pucci. My name is Brent." The young man extended his hand out to her. She could tell he was nervous so she softened her face and extended her own hand.
"It's nice you meet you Brent."
"If you're ready for the morning, I can escort you to breakfast." Ilsa nodded and followed him out the door. As she passed through the hall she picked up the faint sound of a violin. At the end of the hall was a balcony overlooking a great room. In the middle of the room stood Harmen, playing a violin. As she and Brent walked down the long staircase, she could make out the intensity on his face. For a man who enjoyed rape and kidnapping, he was apparently a well trained classical musician. As they approached, he was finishing the piece.
Without turning around he spoke to them. "Brent, could you please see that brunch is ready?"
Brent straightened his back and raised his head. "Yes sir. Right away sir." He turned on his heel and proceeded to the dining hall.
Ilsa turned back to Harmen. "Mendelshon. You play well."
He turned to look at her while he placed the violin in its case. "You know your composers. It's always nice to have a woman who can appreciate the arts. I dabble now and again. They say once you are trained, you never forget. Shall we?" He motioned for her to exit the room. As they walked, Harmen ran his eyes up and down her body. "I hope you slept well. It took me quite some time to make this place livable. Real estate in Hungary can be tricky. So I figured a rehab might do me better in the end."
She figured he was trying to make small talk. She didn't want to uselessly banter so she changed the subject. "The clothing fits, thank you. I slept well. However I am quite hungry."
Harmen led her to the end of the hall and opened the door to the dining area. In the middle of the room where they dined the evening prior, sat a large spread of breakfast foods. Ilsa normally kept to a strict diet, but with her current situation and a pregnancy, she was willing to deviate from the plan.
They walked over to the table and sat down. Brent entered the room and walked up to them. "Soldier, did you finish your morning exercises?" He straightened his spine once more. "Yes sir."
"Good. I guess you were too occupied after that then to clean your boots?" Brent and Ilsa looked simultaneously at his footwear. To her, they were in impeccable shape. But not up to Harmen's standards. He shook his head and silently cursed himself. "No sir. I was not occupied. I…I forgot."
Before he could draw another breath in, Harmen was out of his seat and laying a cold hand across his face. Brent raised his hand to comfort his now throbbing cheek when Harmen slapped his other tender cheek.
He got the message and stood straight. His face had turned bright red and was searing with pain. Harmen got directly in his face and spat out. "Forgetting will get you killed boy. Forgetting will lose wars. Perhaps you won't forget next time."
Brent continued to stare forward not moving. Harmen walked away and sat back down at the table. "Get out of my sight Brent." He walked back to the door and let himself out. Harmen looked back over to Ilsa, who had sat still during the episode. "I'm sorry Ilsa, but when a man intends to protect himself or the things he loves, then he needs to first respect himself. Please….drink." He handed her a glass and raised his own. "To leadership."
She looked at him and his idiotic comment as she took a drink. Leadership, she thought? Was he being honest with himself. He kidnapped and raped a woman and is living in a converted warehouse on the outskirts of Hungary. As Ilsa sipped the cool liquid, it made her hungry. Without hesitation, she began to eat.
"Guerrero. It looks like we might have a bit more trouble then normal. The satellite view show this man living in the middle of nowhere. It's probably miles to this building." Guerrero took the pictures from Akos and studied them. He knew that getting in would be difficult. It was them against an army, and they weren't all too familiar with the territory they were in. "Damn. This is going to be a little challenging."
Chance was listening to them and decided to give his input. "I say we pull an Aunt May. It's the easiest way to get in and the best way for you to set something up once that happens."
Winston hung his head and groaned. "Chance you know as well as I do that it's too risky. It's called a May for a reason. It MAY or MAY NOT work. In this situation I am going to say MAY NOT! As soon as Harmen's men see you, you are a dead man."
Chance just shrugged. "You got a better plan? The longer we sit here the more likely Ilsa is going to die. I'm willing to risk it."
At that point, Winston was getting frustrated. "Let me tell you something Chance…this woman is going to get you killed. Ever since she started working here, she has been in the line of fire, and you have had to bail her ass out. Now I don't know about the rest of them, but I think it's crazy to risk your life for a woman who doesn't even care about you!"
Chance didn't back down. He just looked at Winston and waited for him to calm down. "Look Winston. You don't have to go. In fact, none of you have to go.
Whether she cares about me or not, she is part of the team." Chance walked back over to look at the satellite photos. Before he sat down he looked back to Winston. "Oh…and buddy….don't forget who stayed right beside you when there was a bomb strapped to your chest."
Winston didn't say anything else and just walked away. He knew he was right, but was also concerned about Chance's ability to do his job. Even if he didn't care for Ilsa, the approach and job would be dangerous.
When the strain and argument finally died down, Ames walked over to Chance. She put her arm on his shoulder and looked down at him. "Look Chance, no matter what happens, I will be here for you. Sure…we might die…but what the hell…it's been a great ride." That got a chuckle out of him. He knew that every mission they went on was dangerous. It was nothing new. So he was prepared to finish the task at all costs.
Ilsa finished the last of her juice and sat back in her seat. For some strange reason she felt light headed and weak. Oddly enough she had gotten nearly ten hours of sleep but felt groggy. "Captain Harmen, I would like to go back to my room now. I am not feeling well."
Harmen smiled at her. "But Ilsa, the day is only beginning." At this point, she was struggling to keep herself alert. "You see Ilsa, the wonderful thing about working for the government is that you have access to information no one else can access. I followed your team at times. I wanted to know how they worked, and what they were capable of. I recall a little mission that involved a so called truth serum. So I thought I would give it a try." He got up and walked over to her seat.
She looked up at him with glassy eyes. "You..you poisoned me Harmen." He laughed. "On the contrary Ilsa. I simply gave you something to relax you. Now, since you are rendered incapable of fighting against me. Let's dance."
He pulled her from the chair and moved her to the center of the room. There was no one else there; there was no music, just the eerie sounds of silence between them. He forced her to wrap her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer.
He lowered his head and whispered into her ear. "I want to know everything about your team Ilsa. I want to know everything about you. Why do you stick around with such a wild bunch? Do they make you forget about your husband's infidelity? Is there something you think you can gain from it? Or is it that damn Christopher Chance? Tell me Ilsa, does he make you feel good inside? Does he have what it takes to make you happy? Is he really a man who can satisfy you?"
Ilsa had been under the influence of the drug once before. Her mind wasn't completely far gone, but it was enough to cause a mental stir. She tried her hardest to stay focused but didn't answer him.
Harmen was upset that she wasn't answering him. He figured he may have overdosed her drink but still found it unacceptable. He pushed her away and looked into her eyes. "Let me tell you something Ilsa Pucci. I know you think you are strong and independent. But you are MINE now. Just like Brent, there is no getting out of the situation you are in."
She looked confused. "Oh that's right! You were never properly introduced. That was Brent, my waste of a son. I should have beat him to death at his birth. He was scrawny and looked like a complete loser. Turns out…he still is. A scrawny little loser. I hope you will give me something a little better. Because if you don't….you will end up just like his mother. She has a nice new home….at the bottom of the Pacific." He walked back to her and lowered his face to hers. "Don't cross me you filthy whore."
Harmen stormed away leaving Ilsa in the middle of the room. After a few moments, she walked back to her chair and sat down with her head in her hands. She wasn't going to let herself by weakened, but the drug had an affect on her. It made her slightly drowsy.
She was nearly to the point of passing out, when a pair of hands touched her shoulders. It was Brent. "Come on Mrs. Pucci, let's get you back to your room." She willingly followed the man's voice, staggering repeatedly as she slowly moved along.
After several hours had passed, she finally came to. When she opened her eyes, she saw Brent smiling over top of her. He reached for a cool cloth and placed it over her forehead. Her head was pounding and she wasn't sure she wanted to move. "Oh God…Brent…what on earth happened?"
He prevented her from getting up knowing she still needed to rest from the drug. "I'm sorry, but my dad poisoned you. I am going to stay with you as long as I can before he gets back."
She looked at him puzzled. "Your father never told me he had a son. What….what happened?"
Brent signed heavily and looked away. "Well, my father has always ruled with an iron fist as you have seen. When I turned eighteen, he made it his goal to finally shape me into the son he had always wanted. I was his only child. From what little my mother told me, he was always happy when I was growing up. He fell into this depression when he got back from his last tour and blamed the government for making his life miserable. Then he blamed my mom and I."
This time, Ilsa sat up beside him. "Brent, what happened to your mother?" He finally looked up to her and she saw a single tear run down his face. "It was a week after my eighteenth birthday. He made me enlist in the army when I didn't want to. I wanted to go to college and be a doctor. I loved helping people. When he found out I didn't go to the meeting with the enlistment officer….he…he had a meltdown."
Brent started crying. "He beat me for three straight days morning, noon and night. When my mom tried to stop him…he would just beat her. Then one day I decided to take my mom and run. But it was too late. He had brought two of his military friends to the house. He made me watch while…they raped my mom. Over…and over again. By the time they were finished, she had no fight left. They drove us out to the marina and we got on my dad's boat. It felt like were going to the other side of the world."
Ilsa didn't like where his story was going, but the young man kept fighting to tell it. He probably never had the opportunity to tell anyone else. His sniffling subsided and he proceeded.
"My dad walked my mother to the end of the boat and made me follow. He pulled out his service weapon and handed it to me. He wanted me to shoot my own mother. I couldn't. I wouldn't. I turned around to him and spit in his face telling him to go to hell. Before I got the words out of my mouth, he grabbed the gun from my hand….and shot her in the head. The last thing I remembered about my mother were her eyes rolling to the back of her head when she fell overboard. My father just looked at me. Like he was disappointed I didn't shoot my own mother. After that, he got into work with some bad people all over the world. He started selling and trading weapons, dealing drugs and selling prostitutes. Now we are here. He has taken me everywhere with him to try and make me his next leader. It just isn't me, and I wasn't born with the muscle. I was born with the brains. Of course- "
Brent started unbuttoning his shirt as Ilsa watched. He slid it down and turned his back to her. "-he still reminds me when I screw up." Ilsa was sickened at the sight before her. His back was covered in lashings and a fresh trail of blood was trickling down. No doubt from his forgetfulness earlier in the day. She wanted to reach out and soothe his pain, but she knew it ran deeper.
"Brent I am so sorry for what your father did to you. No human being deserves to live through that sort of hell." He gently pulled his shirt back on. "I am sorry you have to be here. The truth is that if I could get us both out of here I would. I just don't think I have the ability."
He hung his head down again. This time, Ilsa reached out and cradled him. She gently rocked him back and forth as he sobbed. After a few moments she closed her eyes and started to sing softly into his hair:
I'd rock my own sweet child to rest in a cradle of
gold on a bough of the willow.
To the shoheen ho of the wind of the west and
the lulla lo of the soft sea billow
Sleep, baby dear,
Sleep without fear,
Mother is here beside your pillow.
She hummed the next verse while his crying subsided. She thought about her own child and wondered deeply how anyone could treat a person this way. Her heart was heavy for him as her own tears trickled into his hair.