Stan quietly crept through the hallways of the building. It had been simple enough to knock out some angry man leaving the building and steal his card. (Card read John Michaels and for some reason, it felt oddly good to knock him out.) He couldn't help but wonder how Ford was holding up. Probably boring them to death with science, Stan thought. It had been around 1 pm when Ford had been taken and now it was around 5. Stan had spent four hours making an elaborate plan to get in, rescue his brother, and get out. The only problem was that he didn't even know where his brother was being held.
He held his breath, ducking into a closet as he heard a lone set footsteps heading down the hallway.
He peeked out, seeing a scrawny, curly haired man with glasses, looking down at a tablet. His whole appearance screamed nerd.
The man walked past the closet, and Stan slipped out, quickly treading behind him, keeping his footsteps quiet as he drew his knife. Then, he swiftly threw an arm around the man's neck, and dragged the man back to the closet before anyone could see.
The man looked at Stan in confusion, but his eyes widened as he saw the gleam of the knife in the dimness of the closet.
"You really don't want to-" The man began calmly, and Stan raised an eyebrow, cutting him off.
"I don't want to, but I will if you don't take me to my brother." Stan growled quietly, bringing the knife up to the other man's throat, and letting it rest there for a moment. He felt the man gulp lightly.
"You have five seconds to make up your mind." Stan warned, "Five, four.."
"Your brother is down the hall, left and three doors down.." The man said in a rush, and Stan snorted, but removed the knife from his throat.
"Like I'm going to believe you. You're going to lead me there. What's your name?"
"Bruce."
"Awesome. Lead the way, Brucie." Stan said, opening the closet door, but still making sure to occasionally put a little bit of pressure on the knife to keep Bruce hurrying along.
"Don't call me that." Bruce muttered, leading Stan down the hall.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least I'm not calling you dead body." Stan let out a chuckle at the own joke, and Bruce snorted.
"You couldn't kill me anyway." He replied, taking a left and entering a password into a keypad.
The password was T51st4eb35t, and Bruce quietly laughed as he typed it in, Stan wondering what significance it had to the curly-haired man.
The room they entered had eight cells in it, and Bruce led him to the third one. "Like I said." Bruce muttered.
"Ford. Ford!" Stan rattled the bars, but Ford didn't stir from where he was laying on a cot. Stan turned on Bruce angrily.
"What did you to do him?" He snarled, and Bruce backed up.
"I'm just the doctor. He was out cold when I saw him." Bruce defended warily, and that was when the door opened.
Three agents burst in, each aiming their guns at Stan.
"Stanley Pines, you're under arrest for breaking and entering. Step away from Doctor Banner and put your hands up!" The one at the front barked right before Stan threw his knife at her. It embedded in her shoulder, and she dropped her gun with a surprised shout.
"You wanna come with me, Banner?" Stan asked, grabbing the doctor by the back of his shirt and using him as a shield. The two remaining agents shared bewildered looks as if unsure what to do.
"Not particularly, but something tells me I don't have much of a choice." Bruce said dryly, watching the two other agents back off.
"Doctor Banner, please remain calm! Reinforcements are on the way!" One of them yelled without moving, and Stan snorted, still dragging Bruce along.
"You know, you're pretty calm for a guy who's in a potential hostage situation." Stan noted, peeking down a hallway before running down it, half expecting to be caught any moment.
"I kind of have to be." Bruce replied,
"Oo, cryptic? Will I ever figure out what that means?"
"I hope you don't have to. We're going the wrong way for exits, by the way."
"I- wait, what? Fuck!" Stan skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Of course his memory had decided to wait until now to fuck him over.
"Old man, let Banner go." Stan looked up at a robotic voice. A large red and gold robot thing stood at the end of the hallway, and Stanley couldn't help thinking, that would make a wonderful attraction in the Mystery Shack. The Titanbot. I should ask McGucket to make me one.
"Old man? Who're you calling old, tin man?"
"Tin man? Hey, Bruce that must make you the cowardly lion."
Bruce rolled his eyes.
"Really though. Sorry, not sorry. Don't touch my bro again." Tin man said, and Stan felt a sharp prick in his shoulder. He released Bruce, stumbling back a little as his shoulder burned a bit, and desperately grabbed at his shoulder. He came back, a dart in between his fingers. They need both of us, or would prefer for both of us to be alive, Stan realized as he sluggishly pulled out the dart, and attempted to stand. His legs collapsed beneath him and he thought, and I just made it easier for them.
"Aw, fuck." Stan mumbled, falling forwards into an ungainly heap on the ground. Darkness edged at his vision, and he felt himself get dragged backwards. He uselessly clawed at the ground.
"Cowardly lion, really Tony?"
Was the last thing Stan heard before he blacked out.
Stan woke up with a loud groan, feeling extremely hungover. "Yo, Ford what the hell happened last night? How many bars did we hit?" He asked, turning over to grab his glasses from his bedside table. Rather, he fell onto the floor, which woke him up completely. He got up, sitting back on his bed as his head began to pound.
"Last night? We hit absolutely none bars. Unless you count prison bars. I don't know..you broke into what I guess, would be some sort of government base in an attempt to rescue me. Now we're both caught." Ford spat, back turned from his brother as he sat on his own bed.
"...Wow. Not even a thank you for trying to save your sorry ass?" Stan asked, half bitter for being caught and half bitter for his brother being such an ass.
Ford sighed deeply, "I apologize, Stanley. I'm just a bit frustrated. Why would you come? I told you I'd be fine."
"Ford, I'll always come if you need me. I waited thirty plus years. Do you think I'm just going to let some government jerks get between us?"
There was a strained silence before Ford finally answered, "No." Stan grinned, and barked, "Why don't you come give your brother a hug then? I don't-can't really get up. I'm pretty sure I'm hungover." He was testing Ford.
Ford began making a sound of protest, but quickly choked it down. "Stanley, there are video cameras in here."
"So?"
"And they could use it against us." Ford finished lamely, and there was another silence.
"What did they do to you?" Stan asked angrily. Ford winced slightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Stanley." Ford said back quietly, and Stan scoffed.
"You haven't turned to see me once. Either they beat you up really badly and you don't want me to see or I've gotten even uglier over the last night."
Ford snorted, but muttered, "Stan, I don't want you picking fights with them. Don't fight with them. You'll lose." He turned around, facing Stan and Stan almost lost his words.
"It-s not that bad." He coughed out, feeling the rage stir in his gut. His nails dug into his palm as he struggled to keep his rage in check. Ford's face was covered in bruises and tiny cuts, one eye so swollen he could barely open it.
"Heh, don't lie to me Stanley. I know it's bad. Not the worst either of us have had, though." Ford sighed, turning back around. "They drugged me on the way to this place. It made me feel completely intoxicated. My interrogator got pretty aggressive when I wouldn't answer his questions. He began resorting to more violent measures to get answers, but I was apparently not drugged enough for my mind to panic at the sight of Bill. I started having flashbacks of when.." Ford cut off, opening and then closing his mouth a few times, "...he just got angrier when I started screaming until I lost consciousness. They let me out, forced some medicine down my throat, and threw me in here. Not even five hours later, you get thrown in here."
"What do they want?" Stan asked, attempting to force down his anger with another topic.
"They're interested about the summer." Ford replied easily enough, but his eyes said, 'Don't tell them shit.'