(no subject)

[baals]

Hiding on Earth turned out to be quite the productive endeavor for Ba'al. He fit in absurdly easily in the world of business. While expanding into the business world he likewise expanded into the criminal world.

In the business world he's known as Hannibal Hadad. His holdings, which started in an areo-space company, expanded into real-estate, construction and string of electronics retailers.

In the criminal world he's known as simply The Boss. His criminal network, stretches into the usual suspects of guns, drugs and smuggling.

Spread across both the business and the criminal side are oddities. On their own, they just seem strange. Together, something big is being built. Something high tech. It could be anything from missiles to fighter jets. Whatever it is he's taking great pains that the government and the larger criminal underworld don't know what he's doing.

Seeing as he's making an effort to hid it. He shouldn't let the recently hired undercover FBI agent anywhere near himself or anything important. He could just feed him false leads down the chain. But... quite frankly, he's bored.

After a couple months, he calls him to his office. Enough time passed to not be suspicious and give Mike time to make a reasonable impression.

Ba'al's office is a modern minimalist style. All clean lines and simple shapes. No unnecessary furniture. As for himself, he's always wearing some designer suit or another. He's standing and looking over some papers on his desk when Mike enters. The papers are Mike's personnel file.

"Ah, yes. It's good to finally meet you. Michael, is it? Or Mike?" He holds out a hand to shake, which he won't last too long or too briefly. "You've been doing excellent work under Johnathan."

Comments

[501s]

The pattern may have been practically invisible to anyone else. The pieces were in no way connected, at least as far as the usual checks went. Mike had come across them in his bus investigation. Spreading his net as wide as possible, trying to find something, anything to chase. He knew the buses were tied to something so much bigger. After that investigation literally blew up in his face, he turned his attention elsewhere. Trying to find what he'd missed. And that's when he started putting the pieces together.

It was like finding out he'd been picking at the corner of a massive spiderweb. Why keep picking at one thread when he could bring it all down? When he posed as a new employee, he may not have had full and proper backing, but he didn't care. He needed to prove he was right, even if no one else saw it. And then it all stalled out once he got in. Or at least that's how they saw it in Washington. No progress meant nothing was happening.

Mike, however, saw the sudden roadblocks as progress. If there were obstacles, there was something worth finding. He was making progress, slowly. Then he got what he'd been waiting for. An invitation to meet the man in charge. That would be the foot in the door he needed to blow this thing wide open.

He'd been playing the role of Mike Collins. An eager and successful, if rather young, business man, looking to make a name for himself. So when he walked into the office it was with all the vigor and charm he'd need. He took the hand of the spider himself, maintaining that bright smile.

"Whichever you prefer, sir!" He said, playing the role of an expert ass-kisser, as Briggs had called it. "Thank you, it's been...interesting working with Jonathan." His angle was to cast doubt on the man and take over his role. Gain access to higher clearances and gain Hannibal's trust.

[baals]

"Of course, but what is your preference?" His tone is casual and in no way teasing. It's true that he doesn't really care what name he uses. He can certainly put on the appearance of caring though.

He waves to a chair by way of wordlessly offering him a seat. For himself, he just sits on the edge of his desk.

"I am in need of someone who can get things done quickly and without question. My usual assistant is... preoccupied with other duties." He holds up a hand to cut off any premature offers. "It will require a great deal dedication. The hours are, quite frankly, unreasonable. However, if it is any consolation they are the same hours I keep."

[501s]

Mike takes the offered seat after some hesitation. As if betraying some tension or worry that he was trying to keep hidden. He unbuttons his suit jacket as if he intends to get comfortable, but keeps a rigid back as he sits. However, the offer catches him so off guard, genuine shock shows through his persona. It was so unexpected he felt a flare of suspicion. He'd planned on taking several more months to get that far.

"I'm...willing to do whatever you need, sir..." He was hesitant to reply, trying to get everything in his head back on the right tracks. The mission. The cover. The plan. He had to make sure no wires got crossed. "I mean, of course, sir!" He managed to find more confidence. "And it's Mike, that's what my friends call me."

[baals]

There's the cracks he was hoping to see. Not that he gives any indication he knows. He's not completely oblivious to the fact his offer could be suspicious. It's no fun if he doesn't give him something to think about.

"You're certain? You're not obligated and declining will not jeopardize your position." Which is actually true. Mike has peaked his interest enough that he would simply find another approach if he declined.

After a second of carefully weighing the consequences, he decides it's worth offering an explanation on why he called him in first. "I need someone unaffected by office politics for this. You would report directly to me. If you perform well, I may add to your duties." Speaking of duties he passes him a folder. Inside is the general job description you'd expect for any executive assistant position along with some odd but not unreasonable duties. Nothing you wouldn't expect from an eccentric businessman.

"Most importantly, you'd be researching potential investors. I need more than what is found in a simple background check. More than can be found in public records. You will find everything." He pushes off from the desk to open a filing cabinet behind it. "I meet this man in two days." he says, tossing the a file on his desk. "Find everything you can, I don't care how. Yes, I am testing you."

"Oh, and I suspect that is not his real name." He taps the name, Jeffery Lee, on the file.

[501s]

Taking the file, Mike looked over the information inside. It seemed relatively normal, apart from a few exceptions. Nothing outside what he could do while undercover, though. This was white collar stuff. No guns, no drugs. No risk of putting himself into anything truly illegal. So no warning flags. No signs that he was anywhere near the man's other business dealings. But it was a step closer.

Frowning, Mike takes the new file. Okay, that was a red flag. Sure, he could use his FBI resources rather than illegal back channels, but what if that was the test? At least it was in character for him to be confused by such a request. He was supposed to be all clean and upstanding, after all.

He looked up to the man, closing the folder. "Should I be shopping for stake-out gear, then, sir?" An uneasy joke, as if he were uncomfortable. But what he needed to find out was just how far Hadad expected him to go for this test of his. Was it a ruse to expose Mike's connections, or was this Lee character truly the target?

[baals]

Hadad chuckles and appears to take that as a joke only. "Nothing so cloak and a dagger. No, if I wanted that I would hire a private eye."

"It is his intentions I'm interested in. What does he truly wants from our dealing? Not what he says he wants. His motives." He takes his seat behind the desk. He looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes locked on the file. "I feel he is hiding his true purposes. It could be nothing of importance or potentially damaging to the company. Find out which it is."

[501s]

There was no hiding his confusion. That was a very big ask, especially for the position Mike held within the company. But he was thinking of it from an FBI perspective, how Mike Warren would dig up that kind of information. The exact thing he was doing with Hadad. Get close. Talk to him. Gain his trust. Bug his phone.

He had an idea. He could still use his FBI channels to get the information and pass it off as if he'd paid someone to get the information. Hadad wouldn't be checking on the specific sources, would he? And even if he did, there were ways to spoof it so it looked like it came through a third party.

He let a hint of his notion show through in his expression, some of the confusion giving way to a genuine smile. "I'll get right on it, sir."

He moved to get up, but then stopped. "Was there...anything else you wanted to discuss?" Was Hadad the sort that got irritated if someone left without being excused?

[baals]

"That is something I should be asking you," Hadad chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "No, unless you have questions about my request there is nothing else." He waves his hand to shoo him out of his office. It seems to be meant as a joking gesture, if his body language is anything to go by. He's content to let Mike leave if he wants.

What Hadad said about testing should become clear after Mike digs a little deeper. Jeffery Lee is actually Jeffery Thomas. A fellow FBI agent undercover. His investigation isn't nearly the scope that Mike's is. He works white collar crimes and is currently following stolen artwork which he believes Hadad has purchased. This is something Michael Warren could easily uncover. Mike Collins could uncover it with the extra effort that comes with wanting to impress the boss. Agent Thomas didn't exactly graduate top of his class at Quantico.

Hannibal, by everything known of him, would likely be pleased if Mike informed him of the undercover agent. It would be a test of loyalty. A way to bring in new blood.

Ba'al actually doesn't care what route Mike takes with that information. He is more interested in seeing how he handles it. If Mike even has a hint of an idea he's being played with. Even if Mike figured out he was being played with, Ba'al would not view it as a loss.

[501s]

Uttering his thanks again, Mike left the office. Seemingly with a mix of fear and excitement after the new assignment. In truth, he was eager to get to the bottom of it. Why would Hadad want this guy investigated? Once he got home that evening, it didn't take long to find out why. Another agent. Great.

That alone gave him reason to follow through with this. He contacted Thomas' office to inform them that they were at risk of jeopardizing an investigation that was months in the making. Then it was just a matter of working up a cover on how he found the information and delivering it in such a way that would make it seem legitimate.

For a solid week he kept up the act, like he was nervous he hadn't found anything. Then right on cue, his phone beeped. He'd timed it for when he'd knew he'd already be in the office. It was a distinctive trill that seemingly made him jump.

"Excuse me, Sir..." he muttered and pulled out his phone. The shock was very believable as he read the email. "My uh...source finally came through. On that Jeffery Lee situation." He passed the phone to Hadad. The email was from an address that was just a string of numbers, the name appearing just as "Nunya." There was a short paragraph, that was frankly inappropriate for the work environment, but it boiled down to "Yo, check it out!" He'd let Johnny write it.

What followed was a barely formatted dump of information. Personal and private. With pieces of Thomas' FBI record tossed in to make it look legitimate.

"You were right, sir. He's working with the feds." He said as if he couldn't believe it.

[baals]

Ba'al can be surprisingly patient and by extension, so is Hadad. He seems not bothered by the lack of progress. Though there are hints of amusement on his face when Mike seems nervous.

So, what has Mike done with his information? "Your source has quite the creative vocabulary." He briefly wonders if he came up with that himself or found someone, not that it matters terribly. The under formatted mess has all the right details while still seeming scattered and scrounged. It's actually quite impressive, as a cover. Oh, he's keeping Mike.

He took a moment to appear deep in thought over the information. Then, "Contact the FBI. Tell them I suspect I was sold stolen paintings. Have them send someone to inspect them. If they are indeed stolen, I will gladly turn them over and pass along all the information I have on the seller." He passes the phone back to Mike. "Excellent work."

After that, he will slowly allow Mike peeks at smaller the less than legal activities he's involved in. Every one has plausible deniability and a contingency to work with investigators. Cooperative and accommodating without showing all his cards. A general air of having nothing to hide while they're bodies buried in the backyard.

Eventually, he lets Mike walk-in at the tail end of some calls that hint at his other business. He hasn't shown a hint of a temper or anything beyond mild annoyance while around Mike and his 'legitimate' business. But one day, at the end of one those calls there is absolute fury. It comes out in his body language and voice. He doesn't yell but there is a deadly and threatening edge to his voice. "I will be there shortly," sounds more like a promise to kill someone.

"I'm leaving for the day. Feel free to take the rest of the day off." He tells Mike then leaves, without a driver.

He goes home, changes out of his suit and into street clothing then takes the most common and least flashy car he has. He switches cars twice on the way. His ultimate destination is a junkyard. There are men with guns waiting for him outside the main garage. They threat him with a cautious fear and respect when he passes. Then he disappears into the garage.

[501s]

The call was made as requested. He made an excuse to do so out of Hadad's presence, saying he needed to find the right number. But he still made it. From his work phone, keeping his voice hushed as if it were some big secret. He'd set this up before hand, telling Thomas' CO he would be calling as part of his cover. Phone records and potential recordings would show the call was completely legitimate.

Mike doesn't believe those calls are coincidence, but he also doesn't think they're a trap. He sees it as another test of his loyalty. Proving he'll keep his mouth shut on such things. But it surprises him when he hears Hadid practically threaten someone, and he's left looking a little stunned. As if unsure if he should be offering something as an assistant.

He thanks the man for letting him have the day off and makes his way out for the day. Timing it just right so he leaves the garage not long after him. He doesn't follow directly. They'd hidden a tracker on the car, so they thought they were fine. Mike was in the process of swapping his flashy sedan for something that would blend in a bit more when he got the call that Hadad was leaving his car behind. It didn't help that he was also trading his suit for jeans and a teeshirt to make him harder to spot. Cursing under his breath he pulls the shirt down and dives into the car. He had to catch up before they lost him. And he nearly did, when he passed a gap in street camera coverage.

They weren't prepared for a proper operation. He should have stayed put, just waiting for Hadad to come out. The location was enough for the operation, but not for Mike. He didn't come this far to just sit outside. He only relayed that he was going in, before stashing his phone in his pocket. He couldn't just walk in there. He'd blow everything. So he had to find another way inside. He circled around the side and back of the garage, keeping out of sight. Looking for any way for even a peek inside that wasn't being guarded.

[baals]

There's some gaps in the security, at least enough to get close to the garage. There are security cameras but they're old with no shortages of blind spots. It's still risky. There are armed guards patrolling but they aren't impossible to slip past.

Whatever is going on inside the garage has some raised voices and begging involved. No words can be made out but no one is happy.

[501s]

After assessing guard positions and cameras, Mike makes his move. There's a window that looks like it might be in a blind spot. One of the cameras was questionable, but the guards were all too far away from it to really pay attention. And if they spotted him, he would have more than enough warning, and a decent path to an escape.

Thinking he had it all covered, he made his move. He crept up to the window, keeping out of sight. So far so good. He pressed his back to the wall, keeping clear of the light from the window, trying to peer inside. He could just barely make out a few figures. The one standing with his back to Mike, he assumed to be Hadad, but he couldn't be sure. At least he was close enough to hear what was being said. Maybe that would be enough to finally get some solid dirt on this guy.

However, before he could hear much, he heard the telltale click of a safety being flipped, a few feet behind him. There was no version of this situation that could end by his trying to reason with him. This was a shoot-on-sight arrangement. He reached for his gun, already diving out of the way. Bullets pinged off the side of the building and slammed into the ground. But he hadn't been fast enough.

One caught him in the stomach, another in the thigh. His dive turned into a tumble, and he rolled across the ground. He was only dimly aware of his wounds as he landed on his back. He showed his empty hands as he stared up at the barrel of a gun in his face.

"Don't shoot, I'm with--" his words were already strained, and the guard kicked him hard in the side before he could say anymore. He may as well have been shot again for how it felt. He doubled over, his face twisting in pain, as he lost the ability to even think for a moment.

[baals]

Soon, Hadad, or rather, Ba'al, is there. He rips the weapon away from the guard and turns it on him. He shoots him twice in the stomach then tosses the weapon aside. "Deal with him." A command spoken to the other guards.

His attention turns to Mike, whom he hauls to his feet. "This one's mine." He more or less drags Mike toward his car. He takes a second to prop him up against the car to search him. Cellphone and watch are tossed aside immediately, along with anything else that could be a listening device. Mike is then shoved into the passenger seat. Ba'al takes the wheel and wastes no time getting out of there.

Ba'al mostly ignores anything Mike might manage to say or do until they're at their destination. He just picks him up and carries him. Mike might catch glimpses of where he is. It's some part of Hadad's home that requires an elevator to reach. Basement level or further down. The room they end up in has an ornate gold sarcophagus with a glowing white interior. Mike is dumped inside and the lid is closed. If he's still alive when he goes in, he'll feel strength start to surge through his body as his wounds begin to heal. An intense feeling of pleasure comes with the strength. Nothing hurts.

The sarcophagus' lid opens automatically when he's fully healed. It would've healed everything. Every scrape, bruise, everything.

[501s]

As he's dragged to the car, Mike tries to explain. It's all there in his head. The reason he was there, the reason he followed Hadad. He'd worked through it on the drive. But it came out jumbled and broken. Each step was agony to his leg alone, and his stomach was so much worse.

He tried again in the car, trying to explain it. But he was loosing blood far too fast. The world was getting rather fuzzy around the edges, and remaining upright was becoming a problem. He may have asked if they were going to a hospital, or apologized for ruining the meeting. He knew this cold be really bad. Driving out to the desert to bury his body bad. At one point he tried to reach for the steering wheel, a desperate attempt to save himself, but he could barely lift his arm, let alone reach across the car.

He was barely conscious as they made their way inside, a cold sweat soaking through his shirt. Identifying where they were or why they were there was long gone from his mind. What thoughts remained were abstract at best, a vague acceptance that he was about to die because he had no strength to fight back.

That strange pleasure was the first thing he was truly aware of. As it flooded through him, he first thought maybe this is what death actually felt like. Because there was no way a feeling like that could be physical. But as the reality started to sink in, it came with an undercurrent of dread. A feeling like that wasn't something he could just shake off like it never happened.

The first thing he did was pull up his shirt, before even getting to his feet. The blood was still there, on his shirt. Evidence that he really had been shot. But there was no sign of it on his stomach. He prodded at the place he'd most certainly been shot, but there was nothing.

"What the hell?!"

[baals]

"Ah, good. You're awake." Ba'al responds. In the time he was he the sarcophagus, he's had time to clean up and change his clothes. No suit, just a simple button up shirt with slacks.

The room they're in seems to be a sort of dual purpose bedroom and hi-tech office. The sarcophagus serves as a sort of room divider. Bedroom and bathroom on one side and work place on the other. Ba'al is currently on the office side, arms crossed and watching Mike closely. "I suggest not standing up too quickly. There is quite the head-rush following the use of the sarcophagus. Ah, and feel free to clean yourself up."

[501s]

Thinking he was fine, partially because nothing in this situation made a lick of sense, Mike moved to stand up. Which immediately led to sitting back down as it felt like the floor was sliding out from underneath him. He sat there for a moment, trying to blink away the rush.

The events that led to his being here started to trickle back. Following Hadad. Getting shot. Getting found. Hadad saved him, but stripped him of his phone? That didn't make sense. But that was minor compared to how he was still alive.

"What...happened?" His brain was too logical to cope with the fact that a magic coffin had brought him back. So he was focused far more on the mission. Was he compromised?

[baals]

"It seems you followed me." Ba'al casually wanders over, like this was a normal thing that happen."One of my men was over zealous in his protection. You were shot -- which is extremely unfortunate for the one who pulled the trigger. I brought you here and, well, healed you." The last part said with a shrug.

A table near the sarcophagus has several bottles of water, towels and a change of clothes. Ba'al picks up one of the water bottles and holds it out to Mike. "Drink." He waits for Mike to take the water before continuing.

"In the future, ask to come along instead. You're less likely to get shot. Now, why did you follow me?"

[501s]

Taking the bottle, Mike winces slightly. Not in actual pain, but in the anticipation of it. He already had the scar to remind him of what it was like to have metal pierce his abdominal wall. Yet there wasn't even a lingering ache. That alone told him just how much he was in over his head. He couldn't even see the light anymore. As long as he knew which way was up, he had to try to get out of this. Some how.

As he settled back against the strange box, a sheepish, apologetic smile crept on to his face before vanishing. He wouldn't drop his cover until he knew for an absolute fact he was compromised. "I thought it was another test..." he admitted, lamely as he cracked open the bottle.

"With all the calls I've been hearing you take, I didn't think that was an accident. Then that last one, for you to tell me to go home it felt like..." He seemed to deflate, as if only now realizing the error in his thinking. "...an invitation."

[baals]

It had been an invitation but it did not happen has intended. Ba'al has yet to decide if he likes this out-come better. He takes to very closely watching him, even already knowing he's an FBI agent, he can't help but to look for tells. So far Mike's doing a fairly good job covering for himself.

"You'll find my invitations are often more... direct. This is not how I intended to bring you here." He waves to the room then sighs.

"Clear yourself up," said with more command and force than his usual tone. "You'll stay here tonight. I'll need more than your word to know you can be trusted with what you've seen."

[501s]

While Mike would remain suspicious after having lost his phone and watch, he was surprised when Hadad showed no further sign of exposing him. Staying put for the night didn't sound like such a big ask on the surface, but it was putting him in a vulnerable position. Unable to call out for any reason, and there was the distinct possibility that he wouldn't wake up. He was still wrapping his head around the magic revival, so it was easy to forget that piece.

"Yes, of course, Sir." He'd already downed half the water. He moved over to the clothes that had been left for him and set down the bottle. He didn't even hesitate before peeling off his bloodied shirt. Nothing spoke of trust like stripping down in front of your boss, right? He gathered up the clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. Playing the role of the dutiful assistant willing to do anything he was told, no matter what. In reality he was biding his time until Hadad left him alone so he could try to find something useful.

[baals]

Ba'al gives a slight raise of an eyebrow when he takes his shirt off in front of him. While he hadn't expected him to, it's telling that he is.

"You realize, with the amount of blood you left in my car, it would be astonishingly easy to fake your death." Said while Mike is in the bathroom but loud enough he can hear. "Should you wish to avoid creditors." It sounds like a joke(it partially is) but it has a faint undercurrent of threat. He could easily make the world think he's dead while having him locked away somewhere.

Yes, he could actually kill him and leave him dead but where's the fun in that.

[501s]

When Hadad spoke, Mike was staring at himself in the mirror. All he had managed to do was throw his bloody shirt in the trash. He was trying to work through all this, now that he could hide for a moment and not worry about blowing his cover. What the hell was happening? He'd died. He'd felt himself die. Yet here he was, without even a sign of the wound that had killed him. And that big coffin box thing? That couldn't be real. While inside it, Mike had felt more than alive. Yet there was something tugging at the back of his mind. Like a soft whisper to go back. A vague impression, like a dream he couldn't quite remember. He'd seen something. Or maybe he'd just felt it. It was right there on the metaphorical tip of his tongue. Then there was his cover. There was no way it survived that, yet Hadad was acting like everything was fine.

Those words from the other side of the door were like injecting ice straight into his veins. With the blood and the witnesses, it was more than enough to declare him dead. To keep him here. Mike's fingers tightened on the edge of the sink as numerous horrors played out in his mind. The things a man like Hadad were known to do to spies...and with that box, if it really could bring a man back to life...it was almost enough to make Mike sick.

After slightly too long, Mike managed to pull himself away from his reflection and muster a response that didn't sound entirely shaken. At least it was plausible to be worried with a threat like that. "It's...uh...it's a shame I've got my student loans paid off." He followed with a nervous laugh. Even the most dutiful assistant would be terrified in a situation like this.

Just to keep himself from completely losing it, he focused on changing his clothes into what Hadad had laid out for him. Taking tasks one at a time. Getting sick over the future wasn't going to stop it from happening.

[baals]

By the time Mike's ready to come out, Ba'al moved to the office area of the room. Unlike his sparce office at the company, this one appears to more lived in. His desk down here is an antique, well used and more what you'd expect from someone running a criminal empire. On the back wall there's a work table. It's cluttered with various pieces of technology - some of it dissembled, some of it looking completely alien. There are tools and devices for working with delicate electronics. Another wall is devoted to storage, locked storage, including two safes of differing sizes.

"You have questions," Ba'al comments without looking up. He's standing over his desk, intently going over some papers. "Ask them."

The drug he put in the bottled water would very slowly take affect. At first as a sort of heat in sensitive areas. An itch. A keen awareness of every sensation. Uncomfortable sensations begin to feel good.

[501s]

Of all things, Mike had not been been suspicious of the water. It hadn't killed him yet and it tasted like water. Having just stepped out of that strange contraption, however, he hadn't bothered to note whether or not it was freshly sealed when he opened it. And it wasn't even on his radar as he tried to figure out the details here.

In fact, as he stepped out of the bathroom, he picked up the bottle where he'd left it and promptly took a large swig. An invitation to ask questions. That was...dangerous. The man was still holding on to his secrets. They weren't yet to the the "opening up" phase of this thing. Did that mean Hadad intended to let him live, or was he playing a twisted game?

"Well..." Mike started, before taking another long drink. Stalling for time. "I...don't know if I have enough information to even know what I want to ask..."

As he stared at the sarcophagus, a vague wince passed over his face. If he hadn't known better he would have wondered if the jeans he'd been given were made of cheap wool. There was a strange prickle across his skin. But it wasn't everywhere, just in one specific area. He was regretting passing on a shower. Maybe he'd missed some blood while cleaning up? It was drying and flaking. That was it. He'd need to find a way to excuse himself soon.