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Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Yvan, Jul 26, 2015.
It was thanks to his background as a somewhat unruly citizen that Don had remained undetected for so long. He had spent most of his young life skulking about under the radar of the powers that be, and he used that natural talent and honed skill to work for them now. He was lucky that he'd managed to get away with a slap on the wrist and a job offer, as he knew that the punishment he could and perhaps should have received could range from unpleasant to down right frightening.
As it was, the slim and athletic man was tailing a deserter that would not be getting away with any of his crimes, and would most likely shortly die as a husk of a man. Torture tended to do that to a person. It wasn't the most savoury of tactics, but it was something that needed to be done, as the powers that be needed to know exactly what information might have escaped, as well as how difficult it was going to be to get it back into the bottle. Don wasn't a fan, but he was extremely good at blinkering himself, which was what he did as he closed in on his target.
It had taken longer than usual to pinpoint Aric Iver's exact location, as he had been sensible and wily as he ran. He had kept moving and never paused long enough to allow anyone to lock onto him. Not until now, anyway. Don had followed the trail of targets displaying odd behaviour in their data, and finally he'd located his prey once and for all. From there it had been easy enough to get himself set up in the same apartment building, creating an alias for himself that would hopefully be enough to lull the bastard into a false sense of security before he swooped down on him. Don didn't dare do this the old fashioned way, as he knew full well that Aric was going to be a tough nut to crack.
That evening, a somewhat disheveled looking Don knocked on the door opposite his own, noting how hollow the dilapidated old floor boards felt under his feet. The door to his apartment was open, a handful of boxes visible, all adding to the story that he had worked hard to concoct. He was going back to his roots as a criminal, but a slightly less successful one, not to mention a desperate one. "Hey, uh...man?" He was speaking through the door until it was answered, scratching at the stubble growing on his chin that was wholly unlike him. The dark brown was itchy as hell, but it all added to the story. "I couldn't get a smoke...could I? I could fix you up in return, y'know?" He didn't say what he was selling, as he knew he was unlikely to be interested anyway. It was all just to make sure he blended in.
[BCOLOR=transparent]Aric glared at the unwelcome visitor who seemed to fishing for more low lives on the underside of the city. He sighed as he pushed back strands of the loose, dirty hair that fell onto his face and stood in the doorway. “Listen, there’s a few kids just on Washington Street I think might be interested in you.” Normally he’d come across a dealer it the bleak hours of starless nights, it seemed odd but Aric brushed it off and only saw it as only someone truly desperate. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“I’m not the type you should be asking. Worse I do is coffee.” He looked over the scruff man, his fingers feelings the side of the chipped door. Stressed flowed through his veins the longer he stood there; Aric needed to be back looking over everything again. He knew how difficult it would be to find a good lead, every second counted even the ones talking to a dealer. "Now leave before I call the cops," he said, it was an empty threat despite his annoyed tone. Without another word or glance, he slammed the door right in front of his face, hoping the man got the message loud and clear. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]From there he rushed back to the mess he made from frustration and pulled the papers back into a pile. The deserter thought he might try to leave to get in touch with a possible informant but that meant leaving the apartment for a few days and everything behind. He despised the thought yet options were limited. Aric was used to things going his way, that's how he always managed to slip through the agency's grasp every time. Pure dumb luck that seemed to coarse through his veins. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]He decided that tonight he'd leave to gather more information despite the thoughts of what could happen when he's gone, it seemed like the best option to chose from. It didn't seem that information would simply align itself without a nudge from an outside source. [/BCOLOR]
This was not necessarily what his superiors would call an orthodox tactic, but it was something Don felt was appropriate for the situation. He was not seeking to make a friend here, he was only showing his face so that he became a normal part of life for the deserter. He was a drug dealer so desperate he was soliciting business from anyone and everyone, that was all. He would use this as a cover to keep an eye on Aric for the time being, until he was ready to swoop in and take the man into custody.
He was happy to retreat for now, knowing that now he had his target in his sights, there was no way he was going to lose him. This had been a long and hard search, so he was damned if he'd let Aric slip through his fingers. However, for now he just wanted to make sure the other man remained settled, as he would be working on his apartment in the next couple of days. He was equipped with all the tools of the trade that he might possibly need, and would be placing bugs in the room, along with a tracking chip on a few choice items that he knew the fugitive would not be seen without. Although he was certain that he wouldn't run, he had to be prepared for that eventuality, or else he would be straight back to square one.
The following day, Don was up bright and early to stake out the building, waiting and watching for his prey to come out into the world. He was well practiced at this, and already had everything planned out. If Aric went out running errands this morning, he'd attempt to sell to him again, and in that time he'd clap him on the back, planting a tiny device onto him that looked more like a small amount of gum than anything else. Meanwhile, he was forced to sell a few ounces to some people that really were as desperate as he had pretended to be. He knew full well that these few would shortly be in custody too, but shed no tears over their demise.
The sky was filled with it's usual haze as Aric stepped out of his cluttered apartment with an empty black backpack flung over his shoulder. If he wanted to get a move on, he'd have to hurry since the nearest bus stop was more than a half mile away. Unluckily, he stumbled across the newest dealer of the neighborhood. He offered one deal after another, desperately trying to get Aric to hooked on something. He was able to decline the offer and walk away from the lowlife but not till he felt the man's hand on his back and a mumbled goodbye. Aric shuttered at his touch, it was one this he wasn't fond of, especially from a stranger. From there, he rushed to bus stopped and prayed that he'd be gone by the time he got back.
Gathering information to deal another blow to the agency was the next step of a never ending plan. Everything was planned out, every stop and person he'd meet. It was tedious yet this was how he was able to get his hands on every piece of information he had scattered throughout his small apartment. Despite the hardships it brought, he was able to deal with it since it was the few things that left him with a sense of happiness. Even if it was quickly fleeting.
Aric was coming back, that much was clear to Don. The apartment was locked and everything the AWOL agent needed was in the place. Files, photos, a multitude of phones, and flash drives littered the cramped space. It was everything Don was looking; all the information stolen and used against the agency. The place was poorly guarded, only secured by a lock on the flimsy front door.
As the deserted moved towards his new source of intelligence, only hours away, he feared the worse. Aric knew he didn't have much to work off of and if this trip turned to become pointless in the next few days, he'd have no other choice but to leave. Three months would be wasted and the agency was still after him; the option to stay would become too dangerous for him. However, that meant moving to a new, possibly easier case that could further destroy his former superior's lives. He grinned at the thought as he traveled on the crowded bus. Oh, how he always wanted to see the faces of them after one of his 'jobs'.
With the first small part of his plan set in motion, Don wasted no time in double checking that the tracker was working as it should do. He waited until Aric was well out of sight before pulling up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a state of the art gadget that appeared like any other watch, but upon pressing a certain button, the small screen showed a map. The device he had placed on Aric was connected to all the computers he owned, but this was the most discreet one he could look at, and it was showing something very interesting.
"Well, no time like the present." The dark haired man muttered to himself, swiftly heading back inside as he of course had no idea how long Aric was planning on being away for. The fact he was moving at such a rate suggested he had taken some sort of public transport, and the route this vehicle was taking also suggested he was heading out of town, which was perfect for what Don had planned. He needed to take a long and hard look at everything Aric had in his room, as well as put a few devices in place that would aid in monitoring him until he was apprehended fully.
Trotting up the stairs two at a time, Don stopped off in his own unlocked room to collect the lockpicking utensils he needed, along with the handful of gadgets that were necessary for what he had planned. This would not be a rushed operation, but he would work as swiftly as it was possible to do. Firstly, he gained entry to the unremarkable apartment, proceeding to photograph everything he came across, as well as perusing through a few files and of course placing a cloning device on as many of the phones and drives he could manage, allowing all the current data, and any future data to be immediately copied to his superiors. From here, it was a simple matter of placing one bug under the bed, and a second inside the lampshade.
Now, it was just a waiting game. Don maintained his cover as he waited for Aric to return, honestly quite enjoying the little ssabbatical, something that he hoped none of his superiors would notice. He was a good drug dealer, and was actually doing excellent business, despite how new to the area he was. It was probably because what he was selling was higher quality, as the organisation he worked for didn't do anything by halves. But, none of that really mattered - he had to remind himself - as soon enough, his target did indeed return.
It wasn't till late at night did his target return. Aric was bone tired and seemed ready to fall over dead; probably from constantly moving for hours on end. His little trip that went through one city after another, even back tacking to cities his passed hours ago, got him no where. His erratic movements were all in place to keep himself safe and in control of the situation at hand. He then dug out the key to the door, the street light at the end of the road flickering as stepped through to his self made sanctuary.
The idea that Aric could have gotten something out of this was foolish and he should have known. Everything was ruined now, months wasted tracking down nothing, wasted resources and favors. He threw his bag against the wall as anger started to take over him. With a few deep breaths, he was able to calm himself just enough not punch a hole through the wall. Pacing back and forth through the apartment, the floor creaking with each step as he tried to think of what to do next. "I'm screwed, I'm so screwed...." he muttered over and over again.
He didn't stop acting like this for more than an hour, teetering on the edge of a breakdown. Never had it gone like this, he always had luck on his side. For once he failed. Aric still had connections and a few favors on hand, it seemed like the best time to use a few of them considering his loss. He went over to his desk and randomly grabbed out one of the phones and dialed a long string of numbers. "H-hey, this is A., I'm uh calling in my last favor," despite how hard he tried to conceal his growing fear of the situation it showed through his quivering voice, "I need a place for, for a week or two. Just for a little bit. Things went south for me. I'm leaving in a few days, can you uh, have it ready by then?" A gruff voice answered him by simply saying okay before hanging up.
With a sigh of relief, Aric tossed the phone in the garbage and headed towards his bed, flopping down on the flat mattress. At least he'd be safe from harm in a few days, away from this terrible nightmare he created. It took time for his nerves to calm down but when they finally did, he fell into a blissful sleep that took away from everything.
It would come as no surprise that the rest of Don's day went extremely slowly. He had nothing to do but wait for his target to return, and even when he did, the path he would take in order to snare him was not quite decided. However, he had not risen through the ranks as he had done without being a little bit patient. Rather than sit around doing nothing, Don got to work on maintaining his body, using the small room he had to just do a few press ups and other such activities that would ensure that when he did eventually confront Aric, he would be fit and strong enough to cope with whatever issues might be thrown his way.
That evening, Don was of course monitoring any data to come out of the room opposite his own, and was pleased to find that things were finally in motion. The bug in the room caught one side of the conversation, and that was all he needed. If Aric was on the move, then he was feeling the pressure. And if Don could follow him to this safehouse, then the fugitive would feel as though he were at least relatively safe, and that meant he could swoop and get him into custody.
Some days had passed, and now was the time for the hunter to close in and make the kill. He had followed Aric to his place of safety, a nondescript sort of place that he would have overlooked, were it not for the equipment he had managed to hide within the man's possessions. He had unfortunately lost all contact by now, and so he had decided it was the perfect time to strike. Don approached the building silently, equipped with lockpicking instruments and light feet, not to mention a gun and a knife for if things went south. But, the first thing was to get inside, skulking as quietly as was possible, hoping to sneak up upon the other man while he slept, although he doubted things would go as smoothly as that.
It wasn't hard to make the transition from one place to another, Aric had done it so many times over the year it all the hype of moving was no longer there. He called for a taxi in the early hours the day he decided to vanish, leaving no trace that he was ever in the apartment. Aric tried not to think of the mistake he made, he wasn't sure what to come of it but he only prayed that luck may still be on his side. Once everything was loaded into the taxi, he hopped in and made his was to the only place that seemed like hope for him.
The safehouse was quite nice compared to his apartment when Aric arrived to it. Small and out of the sights of anything prying eyes yet not too uninviting in the outskirts of the his newest city to call home. The plan was to stay here for a few weeks so he could collect himself and find a new place. He unpacked everything quickly, setting all the files and drives in an unused room while he threw the phones over the kitchen table for easy access. It was nice, it was safe, it would be home.
It wasn't till hours later did the former agent settle into bed. He rubbed his sore neck, right on top of his tattoo. One day he wanted to get another one but not anytime soon. He quickly dozed off only to wake up hours later with an uneasy feeling that lingering in his stomach. There was a figure standing in the doorway when he glanced around the room, blending in with the darkness. The air was stale as Aric breathed heavily, fearing that he'd be kill in the next moment. All possibilities of what was going on ran through his mind; hitman to police to one of his informants. Instinct kicked in before he could figure out what was going on and threw himself out of bed.
He was scared, panicked, and could feel his heart beating like a rabbit's. Aric raced towards the only other door in the room, it would leave him trapped in the bathroom that was connected to his room but it was better than waiting in the room to get killed or something akin to that. The door slammed shut at he made it to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He was trapped like an animal and knew it.
Making his way to the room in which Aric was sleeping, Don had hoped to make it through this without the fugitive waking until he was safely restrained in some way. However, as he reached the doorway, it became apparent that this simply wasn't going to be the case. Aric was on his feet in a second, clearly tense, something that the seasoned man could see just from the silhouette framed in the darkness. It was just instinct, the stiffness in the other man's body understandable and somewhat troubling, although there was one good thing. He wasn't immediately launching into an attack or defence, which meant Don had time to launch his own.
Knowing that his prey was quite likely to recognise his voice, and that he would certainly know him by sight if it got that far, Don chose to approach and attack, rather than go for the soft approach. He had been tracking him for so long now, he just wanted to get him back to base and collect the bonus that came with a job well done. Reluctant to use a gun in such close proximity and risk taking a ricochet or else killing Aric outright, he instead opted for a switchblade that he deftly slipped from inside the sleeve of his jacket with a quick flick of the wrist.
He wasted no time on speech, instead moving forward the few paces to Aric, going immediately for a chop to the larynx, wanting to gain the upper hand and get this done as quickly as possible. However, he knew that this man wasn't about to go down without a fight, and so as the first move was made and his intentions became clear, Don spoke, "We're done here, Aric. My back up's two minutes away, so why don't you just give up?" It was a barefaced lie, but as such a practiced man of deceit, it rolled off his tongue without any difficulty.
It was official, he was done for. The anticipation of his end came much sooner than Aric could have ever guessed. Years were still planned out and now there was no one to take his place to bring down the agency, or at the very least chip away at it's weakened security. Panic flooded his body as he trembled, trying to think of a way of this that doesn't get him killed. Options were limited: wait and attack or attack and run. Aric decided for the latter.
His body only stopped shaking when a voice pierced the night - it was one he knew. It was the dealer that seemed to be everywhere in his block of Baltimore. Aric realized at that moment it wasn't the police or any government after him, it was his personal enemy the agency. Only they could be smart enough to track him and take him down. They finally caught up with him and it wasn't going to be pretty. At least the deserter would make sure he wasn't going down without the fight of his life.
Treat him like a trapped animal and you get a trapped animal. On the other side of the wooden door, Don heard the man scramble about in bathroom in a desperate attempt to figure out his next step. "If the agency wants me I'm afraid they'll have to fight a bit more than this for me! Two minutes is plenty of time for me," he called out. There wasn't much to work with in the bathroom, the best it could offer was a metal towel rack that was stuck to the wall. It was easily ripped out of the plaster wall with little more than a strong tug. Aric had killed agents before, it's how he got more than half his information yet this was different. He was defending himself from his probable death with damn towel rack; this just seemed pathetic. The man doubted he could severely wound him, let alone kill him but it's all he could do in such short notice.
The wooden door swung open and there stood Aric with the metal bar in hand like a bat. He was shaking, terrified down to his core as he stared down the agent. This was it, his only chance. Taking a deep breath, he launched himself at he man in a full blown attack and made a swing for his face when he got close enough.
With his target locked behind the bathroom door, it was becoming apparent that this wasn't going to be as simple as he would have liked. However, Don had expected that this wouldn't be easy, as Aric had given him the run around for far longer than anyone else ever had. It had been almost impossible to find even a trace of him, and in the end it had been sheer luck that had led him to the apartment building in which the hunt had finally come to a close.
Now, the agent stood ready, knowing that he would either need to wait it out and lay siege to a bathroom, of all things, or be prepared to jump into action defending himself and beating Aric in whatever fight he might choose to wage. Of course, it soon became apparent that it was going to be the latter as the fugitive appeared in a flurry of movement, clearly petrified but trapped and willing to do anything to get out of this room. It was a case of fight or flight, and with his options cut down to one, it was no wonder that this was the choice that had been made.
With little choice on his part either, Don threw an arm to protect himself. Had this been a movie he might have caught the damn thing, but as it was, it glanced off his forearm, an explosion of pain causing him to hiss. He doubted it would be much more than a bruise, but it still hurt like hell. But, despite the pain he was ready to dive right back into the fray and give as good as he got.
Armed with a slightly more traditional weapon, and also in far less of a panic, Don went to punch the jaw of his opponent with a powerful left arm and with his right he did what he could to disarm Aric. With knife in hand he reckoned it was best to slice or stab at the opposite arm, hoping that the shock of pain would cause his grip to loosen. Although disarming the man would not mean victory, it was the beginning of swinging the odds in his favour and getting this thing finished.
Aric wasn't fond of the situation the agent forced him into. It wasn't in his DNA to fight but neither was giving up so easily. If only the other man wasn't a fighter, then maybe he had a chance of getting out without too much damage. It seemed like the agency likes to hide away their good agents till they're finally desperate and how he despised that. He knew it was going to lead to hid downfall.
In a flash, he saw the agent's fist coming right for his face, smashing into his flesh. He tasted his blood that left a metallic tinge in his mouth accompanied by a split lip. The deserter stumbled back a few steps, refusing loosen his grip on the makeshift weapon. That was one surefire way to get him pissed, though there wasn't other than pathetic punches he could do to get back at him.
The thought of letting go and trying to make another run for it popped into Aric's head, but it wouldn't get him nowhere. He believed the agent when he said backup was on their way; the chances of winning against a single agent was better than a dozen. Lurching forward, he slammed his head against Don's chest in hopes of knocking the wind out of him so he could rip his weapon back to himself. Fear entangled Aric, he saw this whole thing heading down hill for him as he pulled back, his head spinning. But, it was going to be hard for Don to make sure he hit the bottom of that hill.
There were a lot of reasons not to like the tedious job Don had been working for these past few years, but this was not one of them. The adrenaline rush that came with closing in on a kill and getting involved in almost inevitable face offs was more than enough to make it worth while. Of course, the very real risk of injury or death was something Don was well aware of, but he would at least die in service to the cause that he strongly believed in - even if that belief had taken rather a lot of learning to finally become instilled in him.
Don was a little surprised when he found a head squarely connecting with his sternum, the impact causing him to stagger back briefly and also just to feel shocked at what had been a rather rash move. He doubted Aric was going to feel too good later, although that wasn't really his concern at the moment. He was off balance and did take a few seconds to recover fully, his chest feeling uncomfortably tight as he glared at Aric with unbridled anger. He was meant to be a professional, but he was more a creature of instinct deep down.
As he was recovering from the blow, Don didn't let his guard down, and appeared far more mobile than he felt. However, soon he was launching into the fray again, on the offensive and determined to bring Aric down this time. He was light on his feet as he lunged at the other man, left leg forward to step between those of his opponent, a tripping hazard that was simple but effective. His left hand sought out the back of Aric's shirt, while the right continued to fight with knife in hand, this time going for a more critical hit at the throat, wanting to force his opponent to make mistakes.
How much longer could Aric take such a beating came into question as he was taking nearly every hit from the agent. He was lucky enough to barely dodge the attempts at his neck only for his face and shoulder to take the blows. The wounds were livable but the pain that swelled with each and every movement, may it hard to concentrate.
It was hard to even touch Don, too nimble and strong for him fight. Most fights with him were one side; someone was tied up and he'd beat them till he got what he wanted, now he knew what those must have felt like. Unlike those who he'd harmed and killed, he still have a small chance of getting out. Aric rose the laughable weapon and tried to make one last swing for the agent but as he step towards the agent, he tripped over Don's unseen foot. He fell back as he slipped out of Don's grasp, a look of confusion etched onto his face as he slammed hard onto the tile floor. The metal bar flew out of his hands and was well out of his reach now, leaving him defenseless.
The sudden blow to the head caused an eruption of pain as he laid on the cold floor. "F-fu-fuck..." it came out little more than garble. He'd rather take a few more stab wounds than this, at least he'd be able to still fight back. The game of cat and mouse was finally over, now it time to see if the cat would kill it's prey or not. Aric hoped he wouldn't die, especially in such a pitiful way. He glanced up at the agent, blood dripping down his face, "I hope I... I get the chance to kill you later..." he muttered.
As was to be expected, fear fueled adrenaline eventually lost out to the zealous kick Don was experiencing. There was only so much instinct could do, and in the end it would almost always lose to calm and calculated skill. It was a tactical advantage that the hunter had used to his ends many times before, and it seemed that the cornered animal was going to tire once again. Perfect.
The second Aric was on the ground, the other man followed him downward, though in a somewhat more controlled fashion. "In your dreams, maybe. Or Hell." Don smiled somewhat condescendingly as he deftly straddled the other man, hoping that he wasn't going to be in for any other surprises. He now had to attempt to get the man in cuffs without letting him punch him in the head repeatedly. It was something that was far easier said than done, as Don first reached to grab each one of Aric's arms, doing his utmost to hold them in place with one hand as he reached into his back pocket for a standard pair of handcuffs.
"Are you going to behave?" The dark haired man asked, clearly crowing about his victory, even if it was a little premature. He was only just opening the cuffs and popping them around the captives wrists, feeling a surge of power that he had to admit he was rather fond of. "I'll give you one thing, you lasted a helluva lot longer than the others." This had been the longest and hardest fought chase he had ever been a part of, and for a long time he had been scared that he was going to fail. But, here they were, and it seemed he had finally won. "Are you ready to go back now?"
Aric struggles against his grasp, wanting him to desperately get off him. No matter how much he tries to push Don off, he simply can't. Being injured and exhausted combined with the fact he's pinned down getting cuffed doesn't help. How much the deserter wanted to knee him in the groin because of the agent's cockiness seemed immersible.
Spitting in Don's face seemed to answer both his questions. Saliva and blood dripped off of Don's face as he smirked. The idea that he was going to behave now seemed like childish thinking. Years had gone by with him evading the agency's grasp, just because he was caught didn't mean he'd cooperate. He wanted that to be loud and clear to the agent who he only saw as a puppet. Not dying here only meant he'd die at the agency. Probably from interrogation with the bloke who was right in front of him too.
Aric wondered if he'd see anyone he knew once he was dragged back to that hell. What would they say to him? Would they even recognize him with blood stained clothes and gashes over his body? He didn't want to go back, not even when he first went AWOL did the idea cross his mind. The man left thinking he was trying to save the world from the cruelty that agency hid from the public and yet he was the one who was seen tainting society with corruption. It was ironic, even more so since Aric couldn't see it himself.
There wasn't much worse than being spit on. Don was of course rather disgusted, and the pinched look his face took on as he grimaced showed this off quite perfectly. He briefly lifted a hand to wipe the spittle away, proceeding to wipe his fingers on Aric's shirt, which he thought was a fair trade - if a little light on his part. But, there was no need to be petty just at this moment, as there would be plenty of time in the future to get his own back.
"Now that you've made your feelings known, shall we get going? We've got places to go, people to see." Don smiled with false warmth, knowing that this was a one way trip for Aric. He didn't know exactly what was going to happen to the fugitive, only that it probably wasn't going to be terribly pleasant. He knew that some were tortured, others executed, some simply thrown in a cell to rot. It all depended on their cooperation and their crimes. But, none of that really mattered to someone like Don, as his job ended as soon as they crossed the threshold of the holding facility, and along with that, his interest halted too. He supposed that was something of a blessing, as guilt probably would have killed him by now if he actually bothered to have a conscience.
Hauling Aric to his feet, Don unceremoniously pushed him along, wanting to get away from this town before any contacts of Aric's might realise something was amiss. He had of course lied about his back up being on its way, and so it was up to him to get the captive back to headquarters as quickly and uneventfully as possible. "Behave yourself, and this will go easier on you. My orders give me a lot of leniency, so as long as I return you alive, they won't quibble over a missing finger or two." It was a threat he liked to use on all his catches, as it so often seemed to work in keeping the people towing the line. Still, he did not relax as he walked Aric to the car, opening the door for him and encouraging him into the passenger seat. And, not one to take unnecessary risks, he also secured him to the door, not wanting any interference while he was driving. It had happened on one of his first jobs, and he had no desire to repeat that disaster again.
Aric couldn't see a way out, he was stuck with the agent. Don made it clear he had control over every aspect of his life from now till they arrived at the agency. Blood trailed behind him as they made their way to the car. The agency was good at making sure their vehicles were able to handle the average wear and tear of agents while managing to blend in perfectly. Heavily tinted windows guarantee that no one would see him or his bloody face. He seemed to have given up fighting, at least for a moment as Don secured him to the door. Once Don hopped into the front seat, Aric turned to face the agent. "Does the agency still have the medical unit? I don't mind bleeding all over your car but these 'little' cuts hurt like hell." At least the seats were leather, which meant getting blood out would be easy.
The ride was long and somewhere along the way, Aric lost track of time. He didn't see it was his place to make small talk with the agent, assuming it would only get him in more trouble. Even an insult would satisfy him but seeing how serious Don was; he happened to enjoy having his hands intact. The city behind them glowed in the night as they headed off into the rolling hills and scattered forests that laid between the highway. Looking over at the agent he saw that he must dye his hair, even in the darkness of the car he could see his roots. He'd draw attention to it later, next time Don tried to mock him he'd pull out that bit of information.
Don was quick to supply a brief answer as the issue of blood and potential medical help was brought up, "I'll patch you up when we get to a hotel. I might not be a doctor, but I've got a fair bit of experience with people like you." He had been forced to treat all number of injuries he had inflicted upon his various captives, and at least these injuries were minor compared to the broken limbs he'd had to deal with in the past. It would be no problem at all, so long as Aric behaved himself, although he did anticipate a fair bit of squirming when the cleansing alcohol came out, not to mention the needle and sterile thread.
The drive was terribly awkward, as was understandable, given the current company and the altercation that had resulted in this situation. Despite this, Don was able to tune out and simply drive on autopilot for a good while. He knew that Aric was happily locked in place, and so it was no problem to cruise down the highway at what was something of a breakneck pace. Perhaps his success in his line of work was partly down to his willingness to speed and drive recklessly in general, something that came in handy when he was close to capturing his current prey. However, it had also resulted in a fair few run ins with the police, although that tended to be quickly rectified with a phone call - usually resulting in the officer in question flustered and a little perturbed.
So, the drive continued for near on an hour, until the two were well away from the city and pulling in to a bland old hotel that honestly didn't show any signs of life aside from a solitary light in what Don assumed to be the office. It could have been a derelict old place for all he knew, but it was worth a try, and so the man parked up outside the office, grinning over at his passenger as he said, "Stay put. I'll see if they have a room." He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist the little dig.
Needless to say, the apparent owner of the place was more than happy to offer a room, no questions asked, so long as he had a little extra cash to keep him stinking of nicotine and looking like a slice of greasy spam. So, in a few short minutes, the triumphant Don returned to his car, opening the drivers side door and leaning over to free Aric from the door, though he was careful never to remove the cuffs themselves. Although this one probably wasn't stupid enough to run, he could definitely be desperate enough.
So far, all seemed to be well though, as the dark haired man stopped by to grab a duffel bag and a portable first aid kit before fetching his charge, herding him to the room they would share for the night. "It's not exactly luxury, but it'll do for now." Don muttered, mostly to himself as they entered a musty room that had clearly not been opened up in some weeks. The double bed in the centre of the room suggested a seediness through its floral patterned duvet, a homeliness mixing with sordid business that was enough to make ones stomach turn. But, Don ignored all of that, dumping his bag on the ground as the door closed behind them. "Shall we get to those wounds of yours? I wouldn't put it past that ass to charge me double if you bleed all over the place." Not that it was his money, anyway.