baals | (no subject)

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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."

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At first glance, the room is unassuming. It looks like a typical bed and sitting area you'd find in a suite. On closer inspection, the all furniture have anchor points or straps to tie someone. There are wooden beams the appear decorative until you look closer and find metal rings. It's pretty easy to guess what's kept in the closet and storage chests along the back wall.

Briggs is still obviously under the effects of the drug, but it seems to be handling it better with his shirt off. "Why wouldn't I? If you drop a name like Odin Rossi, it had to be serious. And--" he gestures broadly to indicate their situation. "--it is."

"I came to get you out." And did a really shitty job of it. "And, hey, this isn't your fault."

At first, Mike just thought the suite set up was suspect. This wasn't the sort of room he'd expected to encounter in a facility like this. But when he started to see the sheer amount of intentional anchor points, he felt his stomach turn to ice. Just a week before and he would have question their use. But after his time with his captor, there was only one reason those would be there.

Losing what Briggs was saying, he tried to think of a way out of this. They had to get out. That's all there was to it. Not seeing another exit but what he assumed to be a closet, he turned to the door behind him. And found it locked.

He yanked at the handle as hard as he could, as if he could overcome the lock by sheer force. But that only culminated in him kicking the door out of frustration.

"We're screwed," he said, taking a step back from the door. "We're completely and utterly screwed, and it is my fault. I followed him. I didn't call for backup or leave any sign of where I was going. I was an idiot and now because of me, the whole house is burned."

Briggs doesn't expect a different outcome with the door but he tries it anyway. He ends up resting his forehead against the door. "Shit. Okay. Yes, this is bad."

He needs to think. He's not willing to believe the house is burned, not until he sees it for himself. If he starts thinking about that he won't stop. So he won't think about it. There still must be a way out of this. It would be easier to work this out if he didn't have every nerve in his body on over drive and a dick that stopped listening to him hours ago.

"We'll find a way out," he says finally. "You have to get out."

Mike shook his head as he turned to search the room in full. He'd move every piece of furniture that would budge, anything to find a trap door or even a vent big enough to crawl through. He won't let Briggs become a victim of this madman.

"No, I'm already screwed no matter what." He said as he searched. "You just...try to wait out what he did to you. And hope he doesn't gave you the other stuff." As long as Briggs doesn't have to endure that or the rope treatment, it will all be worth it.

Briggs goes quiet for a while. He's still standing by the door with his forehead against. He's trying to work things out but he just doesn't have enough information. He lightly thumps his fist against the door. "I'm not leaving without you, Mikey," he sounds tired when he says it.

As for the search of the room, the vents are a touch too small but could be chiseled wider. With enough time and patience. Because of the real purpose of this room, there's no shortage of items that could be used as weapons or tools. Just avoid thinking about what their original purpose might be.

Mike certainly considers trying to widen one of the vents, but they just don't have the time. He does eventually check the closet, and deeply regrets doing so. He even takes in some of the items around the room. He'd much rather use the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, but bullets run out. A backup is good to keep in mind.

"You have to," Mike said, staring at one of the vents. "I made a deal to get you out." He looked up, knowing all too well how much Briggs would fight for him. "One man is not more important than the rest of the house. I've already taken one for the team, so you gotta make that worth it. Someone's gotta be on the outside to protect everyone else, and there's no way he's letting me walk out of here."

"A deal?" Briggs pushes off from the door to face him. "What kind of a deal? You know this guy isn't going to keep his word about anything." As for the rest, he's just not addressing that Mike is right. At the moment, he's more alarmed that Mike made some kind of a deal.

Now, he notices the details about the room he hadn't seen before. It doesn't take much guess work to understand what their captor wants. And what kind of deal Mike is talking about making. "No. This is--no. We're both getting out of here. The house stands a better chance with both of us."

Hands on his hips, Mike fixed Briggs with a firm look. He wasn't backing down from this. He'd made his choice.

"It's the kind of deal that gives you a chance. If you get out, I do what he wants. If he moves against you, I make his life hell. Giving him what he wants is the only way because he's so far ahead of us on everything, we can't even see where he is. He probably knew I was FBI before I even started the mission. I've got no chance of getting away from him even if I get out of this place. But he only cares about you cause I roped you in. Please, Briggs. Just...make sure no one else gets dragged in."

Briggs could continue to argue the point but given the high chance they're being listened to he relents. He does not look happy about it. "Alright. Fine." and there's something about his expression that says he's going to try getting him out anyway.

"Wait... why does he want you? Is it just for..." he gestures vaguely toward his crotch area. Briggs really, really doesn't like the idea but all signs point to some sort of sex slave human trafficking. "He wanted me to fuck you," Briggs recalls, more pieces falling into place. Hadad, or whatever his real name is, is trying to make that happen. Whatever is going on with his body, the door unlocking, Mike showing up, the lack of guards and now this room.

Mike could only give Briggs a sympathetic look. It was like they always said: it wasn't about the sex, it was about power. If he were being kept just for sex, it wouldn't be so bad. He knew if he told Briggs that it was really for some sort of perverse, kinky torture, he'd never agree to let Mike stay behind.

"Probably. And if he didn't already give you something to..." even as he started to say it, his gaze drifted to the vent. Then around the room for any other means of delivery. "...make it inevitable, he'll try something else." He yanked the shirt off the camera and moved to try and stuff it in the vent. "Look for any way a gas or something could get into the room!"

Briggs reaches the same conclusion when Mike starts looking around. Gas. Who knows what kind or what affect it could have. He rips the the comforter off the bed and starts stuffing it around the other vent.

If what Mike said about reviving the dead is true, deadly gas is on the table. "This is about control, right?" Oh, boy does he have a stupid idea. "What happens when he gets what he wants?" His attention shifts back to the camera then starts looking for others. There's an angle they could fake it in. Assuming he can control the urge to actually fuck him. The thought has crossed his mind more than once but this is the worst possible place to pursue it.

"He'll find something else he wants." He stepped back after securing the shirt over the vent. "Or punish you for not giving it to him sooner." He searched the room, seeing no other obvious vents.

"He really doesn't like when people lie to him." Mike climbed onto the bed, and started running his fingers along the corner where the wall met the ceiling. And over every crevice he could reach. Looking for even the smallest opening. "He killed you because I didn't admit to being a fed soon enough."

With new information slotted into place, Briggs goes quiet again. He's leverage. You don't just let leverage walk out the door. He stops his own searching for possible vents or holes.

"He's not going to let me go, Mike." Briggs' tone is grim.

"If he did, it means the house is already burned and he's got someone else to use as leverage." Paige, he means Paige. "Even if it wasn't, I can't go back to the house." He ends up sitting down and putting his head in hands. This is worse than a nightmare scenario. If he has enough time to think it through maybe he can work this to their advantage.

"We can't just sit here." Mike sounded like he was only half paying attention as he dug his fingers at what he thought was a crack. Nothing. "And he doesn't work like other criminals. He's...something different." Even after feeling the man's real strength, he was still having trouble convincing himself he was something not human.

Hopping off the bed, Mike turned to the floor. Getting on his knees and searching along the baseboards. "Staying here isn't an option. Either he lets you go and the house is burned, or he keeps watching you to use against me at a later time." Sitting up on his knees, he finally looked at Briggs. "He knows more than any man in his position should. There's no way to come out of this clean. But I'm not going down without a fight."

Briggs' mood has more to do with the increasingly uncomfortable feeling the drugs are causing. It's shifted painful at the slightest touch. He groans into his hands then finally looks up.

"I hear you, brother. Might as well make his life hell while we got the chance, right?" Inwardly, he still has no intention of leaving without Mike if they make it that far.

Mike's thought about gas will turn out to be correct. The effects come slower because of the clogging of the vents. But it still comes. A faint chemical smell is the only tell that something is getting in. It's the same as what was used on Mike before and what is currently nearly immobilizing Briggs. The added dose is slowly making Briggs' condition worse.

"Only way we've got a chance at that is if you're on the...out...side..." He could just barely smell it. He looked from one vent to the other, even though he already knew they weren't truly sealed.

He could already feel the effects sinking their claws into him, but that didn't stop him from diving for the bed. Grabbing the edge of the sheet, he clamped it over his face in the hopes that it would provide some form of filter.

"Shit...shit. Shit!" They were stuck in here until that psychopath decided to let them out. Was he patient enough to let them starve? Or would he kill them another way first? "Whatever happens," he said, looking up at Briggs. "Whatever you feel. We can't give him what he wants. No matter what."

Moving is a challenge for Briggs, his face looks pained at every movement. But he at least managed to tear a piece of cloth from the sheets and tie it over his nose and mouth.

"So, that's a 'no' on fucking you, right?" He says with a small choke of a laugh. All the shit has it the fan, might as well be a smart ass. "Could've been fun. Y'know, without the drugs and coercion."

Aside from the gas seeping steadily inside, nothing else happens. No guards rush in. Their captor seems content to leave them as they are.

Mike actually manages a faint laugh. He presses his forehead to the mattress for a moment, trying to counteract the drugs by willpower alone. It's almost worse knowing what's coming. The prickles he can feel in his skin. His pants growing ever slowly more uncomfortable. Maybe it won't be so bad, now that he knows what it does.

"I'm guessing you didn't try uh...solving the problem, then?" He glanced up at Briggs again. "It kinda takes away the part that matters."

"Oh, no, I tried. Believe me I tried." Briggs carefully mimes a jerking off motion. Very careful not to touch anything. "When that didn't work, I tried ignoring it. That, uh... well, you can see how well that's working out." He's really regretting the decision to wear jeans. Despite how agonizingly uncomfortable it is, he manages to not tear his jeans off.

He leans back on the bed, half laying on it. "So... we just wait this thing out or what? Just moving makes my dick feel like it's on fire."

Mike laughs again, this time there's no actual humor in it. If only that were possible. He leaned his arm on the bed, still trying to keep the corner of the sheet against his face.

"If he's the sort who likes patterns," and psychopaths always do, "When he gets bored or we don't do what he wants, he'll give us what he gave me before." How the hell could he describe it? "It's the reverse. You got soft and you make a mess but it still feels the same. Maybe worse."

He dipped his head, his eyes squeezed shut. The sheet wasn't helping much at all, and it felt like the zipper was biting into him. But if Briggs could hold out this long, he could too.

"If I wasn't laying here on some kind of Viagra on steroids, I'd say that sounds like bullshit. But, hey, I came back from the dead today so I guess anything is possible." Briggs lets out a small chuckle which turns out to be a mistake. Just that sent shock wave of sensation through him just by the vibrations. Now he fumbles with his jeans. "Just so you know, I'm not doing this to compare dick sizes," still trying to make light of the situation.

He hisses out a breath as his dick bobs free. The air is just cool enough to feel good against his over heated flesh. He more or less collapses back on the bed, he's going to savor this short lived relief as long as he can. After a few moments he asks, "Who the fuck is this guy, Mikey?"

Having been in the exact same situation, Mike clearly held no judgments. He would be following in a short time, he had no doubt. But for now, he just gripped a handful of his slacks in his free hand, trying to keep the pressure off. He could last longer. He had to.

"A monster," he admitted. "I don't mean like...Bello. Or...or even Jangles. This is going to sound absolute insane, but I saw his eyes glow. And some of the tech he's got...it's impossible."

"That's one hellva monster." It does sound crazy but it's starting to make sense. The only thing that made sense is an unknown factor. A literal monster seems like an unknown factor. The mention of Jangles only makes him more convinced he needs to get them both out of here. Maybe if he can get inside the monster's head... figure out what buttons to push.

"We're bugs in a jar. Only... he specifically targeted you, right?" He has a thought on that he's not prepared to elaborate where someone could be listening. But asking may be enough to consider why he was targeted and maybe a way to use that.

Mike nodded. "I'm the one who got close to him, so I'm the one he wants. He only wants you cause I dragged you into it."

Okay, anticipating it was making things worse. Grinding his teeth together, he tried to stave off the feeling. But all at once, he reached a point where he just couldn't take it anymore. Dropping the sheet, he twisted around and put his back against the bed. With a great sigh of relief, he unzipped his pants and pulled himself free.

"For the record," he said over his shoulder. "I'm never going commando again."

Briggs lifts his head up long enough to reply, "Commando? Seriously? Oh, I am surprised you lasted this long."

The reprieve he felt with the cool air is starting to wear off. While there's no way for his dick to get harder than it is, other sensations are starting to build up. It's getting suspiciously close to the feeling of barely being able to touch a high. Then the shivering starts. "Aw, fuck..." he groans. He rolls onto his side and curls in on himself. "...so... uh, you ever... been dosed twice?" A cold sweat follows shortly after. The hyper sensitivity is giving way to pain. To Briggs, it feels almost like withdrawal but with a raging hard-on at its source.