A/N: This chapters a little shorter but the cut off for the next chapter is perfect. Finally, the plot is picking up :). I'll try to not make you wait so long, as I know waiting is really hard for me. Please leave a review! Thank you all for reading.
Callen had stayed in the same makeshift hospital room for a few days, and with great reluctance, he had decided it was best to just wait it out and let his shoulder heal. He'd quickly determined he couldn't pick the lock and make his escape; for the room was practically bare of anything he could use and the odds of success weren't great even if he hadn't been injured. So, he preserved his strength and kept his mind sharp; running through the many different possibilities and scenarios he could imagine to get a handle on his situation. He couldn't help but think Sam would be amazed that he'd actually stayed in his 'hospital' bed. He'd always tried to leave hospitals as soon as he was conscious. Luckily though, his IV had already been taken out by the strange nurse, so he didn't have to endure the needle for too long.
Callen immediately lifted his head as the door creaked open and interrupted his thoughts. His senses were on high alert as two of the armed guards entered, one of them carrying something in their hands. They approached Callen and dropped a set of clothes on the foot of his bed, telling him he had two minutes to change before they hastily left.
Callen followed their every move until the door shut behind them, wary of the change in routine from the past few days; however he quickly stood and changed into the clothes provided for him. He didn't want to miss what could be his only chance to change and end up being stuck in only his running shorts. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple black T-shirt, the clothes fitting surprisingly well against his body.
Not long after he'd finished getting dressed had the guards returned. The taller of the two stepped forward.
"Let's go", he tersely ordered, grabbing Callen's arm and hauling him out of the room, the other guard leading the way. The three of them entered a bright, long hallway, with several doors on each wall. Callen was positioned in between them. Noticing no one else in the hallway, he figured this was his best shot at escape.
Callen quickly spun around and flew his fist into the taller guard's nose, sending him flying backwards. Within a split second, he turned to meet the surprised guard in front of him, sending a couple well-placed kicks into the man's chest. He began to turn towards the taller guard to finish him off and grab his gun when another guard came out of an adjourning room, tackling Callen harshly to the ground.
Callen hastily tried to fight him off, but the two guards soon recovered and aided the man attempting to restrain him. Callen was pulled up and quickly led to the end of the hallway, the anger and frustration at his failed attempt evident in his eyes. He was taken down a couple more hallways and a flight of stairs before entering a small concrete room without windows, a small light illuminating the mattress strewn in the back corner.
Callen was released onto the unforgiving floor, landing on his back near the mattress. He sat upright and noticed the guards moving toward the door, surrounding the entryway on either side. Callen waited in anticipation, when suddenly a voice out of his past echoed in the hallway, chilling him to the bone.
"G. Callen. Wow, it's truly an honor to see you again."
A man stepped through the doorway, and even though Callen could barely make out his features in the poor lighting, he knew it was him. Outwardly, his demeanor barely changed, but the fear and hostility he felt churned inside of him, his blue eyes flashing with a hint of resentment.
"Now how many years has it been? Fifteen? That's certainly a long time." He took a few more steps into the room until Callen could clearly see him, his smug smile matching the cocky tone he spoke with.
"Iverson." Callen spat, meeting the other man's eyes. He looked different than when Callen saw him last. He was taller and more muscular than before, his tanned skin and short brown hair complementing his light green eyes. Iverson was wearing a black suit, a golden watch on his wrist as his hands rested inside of his pockets. His appearance had changed, but he still had the same arrogant, cold smile as he looked down at Callen.
"Last names? Whatever happened to Scott? Now, I know you don't have a first name but most people go by their first. You are a hard man to find by the way; well not as hard as me, but I'm impressed. It's taken my people months to track you down."
"You seem to have a lot of resources at your disposal, the world of treason and betrayal treating you well I see?" Callen challenged, raising his eyebrows.
"These past years have been good to me Callen," he admitted, "but I could also say the same for you. Your own team? And a stellar one too. Unfortunately, their dedication to you makes this all a little harder, but that will all be fixed soon enough," he rambled. The idea that he knew about his team unnerved Callen, especially given what Iverson had done in the past.
"They'll think your dead," he continued, using his hands as he spoke, "and you, my friend, will make a deal for me that will let me go into early retirement. It's perfect, you see," he smiled.
"What makes you think I'll do anything for you?"
"Oh, come on, Callen. If I can get to you I can certainly find your team! I couldn't care less about them, but it's all up to you on what happens to them. I'm surprised, though; I thought you'd certainly never work with anyone again," he paused, feigning curiosity. "Oh well, you don't really have to worry about that now, and I really don't have much time to stay here and chat with you. Need to set the next stage of my plan in motion." He turned around and walked towards the door, the guards filing out of the room in front of him.
"In the meantime, make yourself comfortable," he threw over his shoulder, before abruptly stopping in the doorway and turning to face Callen.
"Oh, and I wouldn't try anything else if I were you. Wouldn't want anything to happen to that loyal partner of yours, would we?" he hinted, the dim light creating an eerie, ghostlike smile as he stared back at Callen. Hatred flashed in Callen's eyes at Iverson's suggestion, silently warning him to not go near any of them. His look would make any other person's blood run cold, but Iverson simply chuckled and slammed the door shut, locking Callen in his prison.