Participants:
| Scene Title | The Frozen Mask, Part III |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Brian entertains Tracy back at the hotel |
| Date | August 13 2009 |
Tracy's Hotel Room, Washington DC
"You can call me Richard Hatch." Says the masked man, turning from the closed door to face Tracy.
Behind his mask he arches a brow as she has already taken off the piece of tape. "You're rather feisty." The duffle bag is puled away from the bed, the roll of duct tape brought out. "If you promise not to scream, I have no reason to gag you. But if you do scream, I will gag you and just pass it off as extremely rough sex to our neighbors. And we wouldn't want you to be embarrassed, now would we? So, Tracy. Can you sit nice?" The man asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
Tracy can sit nice, she does it most days. Sits pretty, crosses her legs, smiles. But now she just feels awkward, in this body. Not right. "What do you want?" She asks, a bit more conversationally, but there is still a demanding undercurrent to her words. She sits up, arm held in an almost 'black power' position as it remains cuffed to the bed, giving that wrist limited movement. Why does she feel so strange?
Look down at herself, she raises a brow. "Where are my clothes? And what colorblind fool redressed me?"
"I want to talk to you." He gives a little shrug as if that's not too much to ask. "And just relax with you. What I really want, I'm taking. So you don't have to worry about that. We'll put everything back in order in just a bit, and you can go on with your life like nothing happened and forget about this completely." The duct tape is set beside him. "So just relax. This will all be over before you know it." Says the masked man.
Relax. Yeah, okay. She shakes her head, feeling her hair down. But she caught a glance of crimson. She lifts her free hand, holding up a red lock. Her hair isn't red.
"What did you do to me?" She says, her voice seething, icy. She clamps her hand on the handcuffs, but….when she tugs, she can't get loose. This is bad. This is very, very bad.
"Nothing that can't be reversed." 'Richard' explains gently. "As I said, everything will be put back to rights soon. You have no reason to worry. So don't. You will not be harmed in this in any way, unless you choose to try and harm me, or my associate. Then we will be forced to take you down in more ways than one. But if you cooperate, everything will be fine. I get what I want, and you aren't even affected. So just take it as a few hours break from your stressful life." He explains, folding his hands in his lap.
"You have my word." He chuckles a little bit. "We can even talk about your hectic life. Kidnapped for therapy, think of it that way. You need a break Miss Strauss."
A break, she does need, but not the kind he needs. She yanks at the handcuff feircely, bruising her wrist. "Are you completely out of your little brain? You can't even begin to comprehend the scope of things you have just interfered with! Or who you're screwing with!" Oh, there's hate in Tracy, a hate she's sure she hasn't felt in quite a long time.
"Ignorant little maggot! For all our sakes you need to fix this right now."
"This isn't cooperating, Tracy." He says gently, his hand going to rest on the roll of duct tape. "What's done is done. I have a plan I'm going through with. You can either relax, or you can hurt your wrist and sit there with duct tape over your mouth." He spreads his hands out, applying the ultimatum. "What would you rather?" 'Hatch' asks.
Tracy shakes her head to him, looking away to get herself under control. Powerless - she never thought she'd miss her power. But she does. "You have to let me go," she says, looking through Isis' eyes with anger and…yes, even a little fear. "Please, you have to let me go and you have to do it quickly. You have no idea how bad this can get. What exactly is it that you want? Can't you people ever just ask? You're risking so much!"
"What exactly am I risking?" He asks, not yet applying the duct tape for some reason. "We can't just turn the bus around, Tracy. We are all committed to a plan now. We're on the same team so to speak. So you like me, better be praying that this works." He murmurs, picking up the duct tape now. "I've said too much to you already, Tracy. Haven't you noticed I'm wearing a mask?"
Tracy nods. "I noticed. But you and I are not on the same team. I work with upstanding citizens, not criminals, too afraid to show themselves. You all have something to say, but never a face or real name to go with it. I'm just supposed to trust murderers like you. Well it's not going to happen."
"So who is it this time? What are you after? World domination? Or just countrywide?"
What is he after? It's a question he hasn't thought about in a good while. Not since he started this crazy business. "Safety." Is his short answer to the question. "Protection." The tape is tossed up and caught softly. "You don't have to trust me Tracy. I'm not asking for that." Richard says, placing the tape down again. "What are you after?"
"Right now? The key to these handcuffs and for whatever you did to me to be undone." Well, she's a very open, honest woman, now isn't she.
"Is safety what you people are calling it these days? It's dictatorship. No one has the right to unilaterally make decisions for other people, not when they aren't elected by consenting citizens. Dictators think they're doing what's in the country's best interest as much as self-serving heroes do."
"So why does your boy feel like it's just fine to unilaterally make decisions for Evolved. Why is Frontline being constructed, it's going to have a draft isn't it?" He watches Tracy carefully. "I'm no hero. Leave off that part and you got me pegged, sweetheart." The tape is twirled around with one finger.
"Do not call me sweetheart." She warns. "And the President was chosen by the people to make these decisions. Go read an eight grade textbook, it's the point of democracy. We choose a leader. We like him, we get to choose him again. We don't, we choose someone else. You think you know what's best for everyone? You're no better than Saddam Hussein, or Kim Jong Il - you don't care what the majority want. You just want what's best for you."
Tracy really looks the part of a redhead in her spirit, now, tossing her hair out of her face. Why is this hair falling in her face? Somebody needs to brush it! "As to Frontline, I don't know if you've ever been to Manhattan. If you go, make sure to see the giant hole in the ground and the memorials to all the dead. Frontline is being created to keep that from ever happening again."
"I thought the people chose Rickham." He gives a shrug. "Forgive me for my ignorance, I'm just a stupid terrorist." Leaning back he lets out a little chuckle. "You truly are a believer in your cause. That's admirable." He gives her a gesture of his hand, honoring her conviction.
Tracy shakes her head. "Unfortuantly we cannot compel a person to serve. If they wish to step down, that is their business." She gives him an icy smile, something cold and foreign to Isis' features. "And you, from what I can tell, are a coward. All of your people are. Sneaking around, hiding your faces and your names. At least when I believe in something, I stand up and proclaim it and follow it by facts."
"I don't mind being called a coward." He murmurs, laughing under his mask. "You think you can get me to give away who I am, by calling me chicken? I may have many flaws, miss Strauss. But I'm not that stupid." He places one hand under his chin, peering at Tracy. "You done talking now? I'm sure your hotel room has some fantastic porn." He glances behind him at the TV. "Or we could have a movie ordered, you are, Tracy Strauss, after all. Just a couple bucks."
"I think you are quite stupid, Richard." Tracy answers, knowing she's gotten all she can out of him at this point. But it's enough. For now. "You have no earthly idea the mess that you've just inserted yourself into, and what you've made worse. But then again, as long as you get your way, I'm sure you don't care who lives. Who dies." She sits back. "Don't touch anything. No pay per view, nothing." Because she's vindictive that way.
