Against All Odds (Closed!)

momoftwins13

Off The Beaten Path
Joined
Jul 17, 2013
Posts
1,336
Candice Marketto
Age: 24
Career: Photographer

Candice was a risk taker by nature. When she was 5 she had jumped off of the roof of her parents' shed just to see if she could fly. When she was 16 she had rolled her fathers car by driving too fast down windy back roads. At 18, she had chosen to major in photo journalism during college.

"You'll never make a career out of that!" her parents had raged. "How successful do you think you'll actually become taking pictures?"

The truth was- very. She was one of the most well known photographers on the east coast now. She took photos for several news channels, both local and national. And on the side she took photos of nature to sell on her own.

She owned her own house, a brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, and had a job she loved. Yeah, that was pretty successful, for a risk taker.

Now she was going to be taking the biggest risk of all. She had been hired by a national CBS news channel to accompany a journalist across seas, into enemy territory and document everything by photo.

So now they were off to start a risky adventure of documenting the war efforts... And Candice couldn't be more excited.

****** 23 days later ******

Candice's head bobbed down to her chest as she fell asleep in the chair. Her hands, arms, legs, and butt had long ago gone to sleep. Her whole entire body ached from not being able to move and stretch.

Her back was screaming in pain from multiple knife cuts all across it.

Her left eye was black and swollen shut, as well as her cheek being black and blue.

One arm had cigarette burns all the way down it- at least 50 of them.

3 days ago, enemy troops had caught Candice behind her camp, in the trees taking pictures. They now believed that she had been spying on them and knew some kind of critical information and were trying to torture it out of her. But she hadn't heard anything. She had nothing to tell.

Slowly her head fell forward again. It was impossible to sleep with your hands and legs tied to a chair behind you but she was exhausted.She prayed for rescue. She wished, hoped and prayed every minute that someone would find her and help her out of this situation.
 
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Sgt. Mark 'Bush' Sanders
Age: 29
Career: Special Forces, Delta Detachment

Ironically, Bush's reserved, methodical nature was probably what had seen him through two tours and kept him alive so long. The training was rigorous, pushed every man to his limit and then some, and the majority fell by the wayside, but after months of 6am drills, escape and evasion tactics, and an encyclopedic knowledge of every which way to disable a human target, he was ready for the big time.

Mark wasn't a big family guy on his downtime, he always remembered to visit his parents at the holidays and sent birthday cards to his niece but he kept himself utterly focused on the job and his career; sentimental thoughts could cloud one's judgement, he felt.

There'd been a lot of traffic and new faces coming and going from Fort Bragg in the past couple of weeks, and the rumour was that some new intel had been dissected and a certain backwater country was harbouring some very dangerous people.

***********

In the long history of bad ideas, this got pretty close to the top. Whoever the hell thought it was a good idea to use a non-contract civvie for reconnaissance, especially in this area... and now we needed to get her out, of course. More for the photos than anything else but the girl would probably appreciate it.

Bush ran the final few metres to the truck at the back entrance to the compound. He and O'Doyle were to flank from behind, whilst the rest of the team took the front - pretty standard fare, and support made that all the easier. The bad guys were pretty tame here, but still, there were more of them than there were of us.

"Sniper support, in position. Clear to move in three minutes." Bush clicked twice on the walkie-talkie system, acknowledging the development. Three minutes until this little compound turned into Vietnam (not that anyone there was old enough to remember that).

He checked his weapon idly whilst the seconds slowly ticked down. A Heckler and Koch MP5 sat in Bush's arms, fully kitted out with a suppressor, aimpoint sight, and taped magazines. Say whatever you like about the Germans, but they sure as hell know how to make a gun...

Suddenly a scream ripped through the quiet jungle clearing - a woman's scream.
 
Candice startled awake when she heard a door in the shabby building she was being held in slam shut. She heard two deep voices coming from the room next door a split second before the door to her room crashed open and sunlight filled the room for the first time in hours.

Candice squinted and winced as her head pulsed in pain- partly from a wound near her temple, and partly from the sudden disorienting onslaught of bright light. One of the two huge men looked her up and down and chuckled menacingly.

"Oh yes, this woman is very beautiful" he muttered in halting English.

The two men approached Candice then and untied her, causing blood to rush to her hands and feet so fast that she moaned out loud from the pain, making them laugh.

"Don't worry, pretty lady" the one man said. "You feel much more pain soon".

Candice whimpered and tried to struggle but had no energy left after three days and nights of fighting. It was useless to even try. She was no match for the brutes who were now chaining her arms to the wall above her head. Her legs were barely strong enough to support her weight but she managed for the time being.

Before she knew it, one man ripped off her shirt exposing her bra to the men before her. Next they ripped that off as well leaving her completely naked from the waist up. Candice whimpered when she saw what came out next. A whip longer than she was tall.

"You WILL tell us what you hear, lady" the other man grunted before raising his arm and letting go with a ferocious whip across her bare breasts. Immediately they began to bleed and Candice screamed in agony as the room spun before her, almost passing out.
 
Seconds after the scream filled their ears Bush heard chatter on the radio from the other team.

"Sounds like there's some serious shit going down in there, the package might be damaged, if you get my meaning..."

Going in too soon would mean some of their support wouldn't be ready, and would put a lot more pressure on the ground teams. That said they were all committed to the mission and would give everything they had, and if the order came through they'd follow it without a hesitation.

"Roger that... fire team Charlie, are you in position?"

Two clicks over the radio answered that.

"Then you've got the green light. Sandstorm is a go, I repeat Sandstorm is a go."

In the space of three seconds a dozen men did a dozen things, but strangely there wasn't a sound made to alert anyone in the compound. Bush popped up and rested the barrel of his MP5SD on the truck's bed, as his partner leaned out to the side of the vehicle. He held up three fingers, then two, then one.

On the closed fist Bush lightly squeezed the trigger twice, one in the chest and one in the head as O'Doyle did the same, and all of a sudden there were two less people alive in this god forsaken jungle.
 
Candice cried out again and again as the cruel men slashed the whip across her soft, vulnerable body. "I didn't photograph anything except animals and I didn't hear anything from any of your men" she said pleadingly to the men.

They merely slashed her again and then turned to talk amongst themselves. "Close lipped bitch" one muttered and then turned away. The two men walked out of the room and once again left Candice alone, tied to the wall, her legs growing to weak to hold her up, and her arms starting to bruise and get cut by the restraints an the pressure of holding her up.

Just as the two vicious men walked out she heard a commotion outside and all around. Men shouting. Guns firing off. Candice's heart began to race. She tried to scream out for help in case anyone was out there but we voice was hoarse from lack of water. She pulled weakly at her restraints but to no avail.
 
"Fire team Charlie you are weapons free, I say again, Charlie call the shots."

To anyone but Mark 'Bush' Sanders or any of the other seven highly trained operatives it would have sounded like a small animal stepping on a few sticks a couple hundred metres away. Instead, two men lying prone in the grass were picking off targets with their long range DMRs with gleeful abandon.

"Bravo, move in and secure the package, Alpha's beginning the attack."

Bush's heart racing, the pair began to sprint towards the wooden building they'd heard the screams coming from only thirty seconds beforehand. The adrenaline made his sight keener, hearing sharper, and everything took on a slow motion, methodical glaze. Finally unsilenced fire began to respond with the militiamen trying to hold back the majority of the Delta forces with AK fire and a few thrown molotovs. They were untrained and couldn't shoot worth a damn but when there was over 5 times as many of them as you things can turn serious quickly.

Bush's shoulder slammed into the side of the small building, more of a shack really, coming to a stop after their little sprint. O'Doyle was next to him, as always, and the pair thinned out some of the men suppressing their squadmates. When the two had cleared out a little breathing space for the others, Bush slapped a fresh magazine into the weapon and cycled the action before taking up a position by the door.

The smell of cordite and gasoline filled the air, and smoke billowed from another building closer to the entrance which had been set aflame. The rattle of fully automatic fire barely eclipsed the screams of those who were hit or burning, but so far, none of them came from the mouths of our men. Get in, get out, no casualties. That was the plan.

"Get ready to breach and clear." Mark whispered to O'Doyle, checking his sights one last time. They'd brought explosive charges in case of a more stalwart structure, but if they put those on this rickety old thing it'd be blown to smithereens. It was time for the old fashioned kick-in-the-door method.

"On three. Target is a woman, mid twenties, condition unknown. All other occupants are considered hostile. On my mark..." It was Bush's turn to count down, with O'Doyle pulling the pin from the flashbang on two. Lifting his knee high Mark broke the door down easily, almost threatening to take the thing clean off its hinges. They both looked away as a bright light exploded inside, before stepping in, weapons raised.
 
Candice heard bullets being fired all around her, from every side. The sound was almost deafening as what sounded like bombs and grenades detonated. Machine guns blasted, men screamed in what could only be agony. Her room- the dark room with absolutely no windows- was like a black tomb to her. She knew in her heart she was about to die. Nobody probably even knew that she was in there.

She began to hyperventilate. Her breath became short and ragged. Her head spun and if she hasn't been being held up by chains she would have fallen to ground. What little vision she had from daylight shining through the ill-constructed shack, blackened and blurred. She was going to pass out.

Just as she was on the edge of consciousness the door to her room burst open accompanied by a sound so loud she was left temporarily deaf. Through her blurred vision she made out two men entering the room, weapons drawn and at the ready. Tears of fright spilled from her eyes but that was it. She no longer had the strength to fight anyone. She had lost blood- a lot of it, along with suffering what had to be a concussion and possibly some broken bones. She hasn't eaten or drank in three days. She simply didn't have the strength to plead with whoever these men were to spare her life.

Through barely open eyes she watched as they rushed towards her- and then it all went blank.
 
"Damn, they just left her here? Check the room for documents while I patch her up."

The girl was covered in cuts and bruises and looked almost sixteen in her thin and broken state. Bush took the heavy cutters from his pocket and broke the restraints, freeing her arms and legs. She collapsed to the floor, the flashbang had scared all the life from her. Mark brushed her hair to the side and held up the ID photo beside her face. Yup, that was our girl, but you had to squint to see it underneath all that blood and dirt. A pretty thing, he couldn't help but think, and hoped they hadn't been too extreme with their treatment.

A large explosion over by the main firefight brought him back to the world. O'Doyle had taken everything valuable from the tables including the intel from the girl's pictures, and was now stacked up by the door shooting at targets.

"Actual, this is fire team Bravo, we have the package, are we clear to exfil to the rally point, over."

"Sit tight fire team Bravo; Alpha is encountering strong enemy resistance to the south of your position, give them a few and you'll be on your way."

"Roger that Actual.." Bush sighed. This was not the cut and dry op they'd hoped for. In his arms the girl stirred slightly, and he got a glimpse at her arm. Mark swore under his breath at the trail of burn marks, and her pulse was weak. Chances were she hadn't been fed for days.

"O'Doyle! How's it looking out there?"

"It ain't so good Sarge.." Doyle's thick southern accent always made Bush smile. "They look pinned down pretty hard there, we need either support or more men or summin'." Doyle stopped to fire a single shot before he turned. "How is she?"

"Bad but I've seen worse. We need to be on our way though, now. Let me see about that support..."

As Bush began to call for some close air assets O'Doyle peered out back through the rear entrance.

"Oh, shit. Bush we got a problem. I count three technicals with men on the back inbound to our position, thirty seconds tops."

"You have got to be.. nobody said shit about their QRF!" Somebody back home was going to get chewed out about that one. "Right, new plan! I carry Little Miss Photoshoot over here down to Alpha's position, you provide cover fire. We move from building to building, check the corners, then get everybody the hell outta here. Get that too Actual?"

"Roger Bravo, get moving. We have two Little Bird helicopters en route to your position, they'll be there in two mikes."

Finally, something was going their way. One last thing.

"Charlie, I need you two snipers to displace and give me an O'Doyle some covering fire as we move towards Alpha, okay?"

Dropping the comms without waiting for a response Bush put his arm under and around the package. She was light, and he was thankful for that small mercy. Standing, his body still burned under the effort with both the girl and his gear. He and his partner shared a nod. They only had a ten second head start left, and damn if he wasn't going to make the most of it.
 
Candice stirred from her state of unconsciousness for just long enough to see a painted face directly above her before passing back out. The next thing she knew was that she was being carried in the arms of a strange man in military gear. Not knowing if she were in the arms of a captor or rescuer she immediately began to wiggle and strain against him. Better to get away if he was an enemy, in her mind.

Her bright green eyes focused dully on the man carrying her as she fought against him. She was trying to get away with all of her might but in reality it was about the strength of a toddler pressing against a bear. Useless.

Fear was alight in her eyes as she registered all of th gunfire around her still. It hasn't let up yet. As the man carried her rounded a corner she saw three men, all on the ground with the back of their heads blown off. The sight made her sick to her stomach and she dry heaved. Nothing was there to come up though.

Her head was spinning and everything she saw was a fuzzy blur but still she kicked her feet out and tried to wiggle out of the grasp of the man holding her.
 
They ran. By god did they run.

Heavy .50 calibre bullets raked by their bodies as they rounded the corner, barely missing them by a hair. The compound was small but both teams were at opposite ends of the long rectangular position. They ran parallel to a long command building as the sounds of the firefight got louder, O'Doyle turning to pop off a few shots intermittently.

Suddenly a door swung open and a man appeared, MAC 10 machine pistol in hand, ready to spray down Bush and his newfound deadweight. He closed his eyes, bracing... the man hit the floor with a thud, brains painting the concrete wall beside them.

"Bush you careless SOB, you owe me a beer when we get back!" Marco's laugh was strangely comforting, considering the sniper had just saved all of their lives.

"That's what you're paid for! Still, I'll get you a barrel for that one..."

Mark was on edge after his little brush with death, and he noted a sudden drop in gunfire. It sounded like Alpha had finally won their battle with the militia. Luckily for them he had some fresh new targets racing up behind him...

The final stretch was across a wide clearing where choppers could land to pick up or drop off whoever was high enough up to warrant one. With their lead on their pursuers steadily decreasing, time was of the essence. Doyle sprinted past to let them know just what was coming, and Bush picked up the pace too. As he ran he couldn't help but look to the woman in his arms. Pale, cut up, feverish and with what felt only like a broken rib she was a mess, so much so that he was incredibly surprised to feel her moving about, ever so slightly. For all he knew moving her in this state could kill her, but if he didn't then the militiamen hot on their tails definitely would.

The two of them were halfway across to clearing to the main contingent of the 8-man Delta squad when they rounded the corner. Like a tidal wave they all arrived at once, firing as they ran, poor shots but with enough weapons to hit just about anything. Ten paces. Nine. Eight. His whole body ached, breath ragged, so close! Bullets whizzed and puckered the soft ground beneath them and his squadmates, no, his friends retaliated, covering him. Four, three...

Suddenly he hit the ground with a slam, tumbling, rolling. Mark tried to stand but collapsed again, a searing pain in his leg. The heavier call of the mounted machine guns on the technicals started up as his vision went blurry... So close, yet so far...
 
Candice awoke with a start. A lone machine beeped beside her and she was staring at a while ceiling with bright lights. Confused, she tried to sit up, only to experience pain so bad that it made her vision blur and darken around the edges. Never had she experienced pain of that magnitude.

All of her senses seemed to come back at once then. She heard people hurrying up and down hallways, their shoes slapping the ground softly. Those people were talking, either to themselves or others around them. She could smell the scent of antiseptic and a little of the coppery smell that was blood. But most of all she could feel. She could feel pain splintering through her skull, cheek and eye. She could feel pain radiating throughout her ribs and abdomen. She could feel excruciating burning sensations on her arm. And she could feel agonizing stinging on her chest and stomach like cuts of some sort.

It all came flooding back to her. The enemy men capturing her and dragging her to their camp where they nearly tortured the life out of her for information she didn't have... Or at least didn't know she had. And then dimly she could recall gunfire and men breaking into the room... And some man carrying her... Dead people around...

A soft whimper escaped from her lips and she squeezed her eyes closed trying to erase the memory of it all. A nurse came hustling over and spoke to her in an urgent manner.

"You're up?!" She cried before turning and speaking over her shoulder. "The lady you are waiting for is awake sir!" She then began poking, prodding, pulling and pushing all over Candice's body which hurt like hell and made her groan.

The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile but didnt stop the painful exam.

Candice squeezed her eyes shut and tried to speak, but her voice was a mere croak because of the lack of hydration she had received over the past few days as well as screaming for help while held captive. Frustrated she looked towards the nurse.

"I will get water" the nurse answered in faltering English. "You try not to talk yet".

With that the nurse disappeared, leaving Candice alone again, staring at the ceiling.
 
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Mark stood in the dark corner a little while longer before letting Candice know of his presence. One of the many talents of a man such as himself was the ability to disappear in plain sight, whether it be a crowd, jungle, or hospital building. That said when your one watchperson was blinded by pain and couldn't talk to save her life the impressiveness of his feat was diminished somewhat.

He leant forward on his crutches and began a slow, meandering swing towards the foot of the bed.

"So you're the special lady I got myself all banged up for! You don't look like much, but then again, looks can be deceiving even to the best of us."

Mark really did look at her; it was remarkable what a few days in even a backwater hospital in a third world country could do to a person, although he doubted the majority of their patients were treated to the same degree of dedication. She was brighter, fuller, and looked much older than she had when they took her three days ago. Still a pretty face, despite everything, but one which would not forget what happened quickly.

Sunlight broke through the cracks in the blinds and showered the room in a warm dawn glow. Using these rays of light he took the clipboard from the end of her bed and skimmed over it, flicking over the pages.

"Damn..." Mark whistled, looking up periodically to look at her. "You took one hell of a beating, the kind one of our men would struggle to fight through."

She looked battered and broken lying there in the morning's sun, but she looked very much alive and well too.
 
Candice was startled when a man on crutches came seemingly out of nowhere and began speaking to her. He mentioned getting banged up for her, and that she didn't look like much- which got a rise out of Candice even in her pained state. Although he couldn't talk, could barely talk, her eyes, including the blackened one, narrowed to small slits.

Sunlight began to filter into the room then, and the man picked up her file and read over it. He mentioned her really getting beaten up. It was then that Candice saw the nurse walk in with a glass of water. She handed it to Candice and walked back put without a word. Candice moved gingerly, using the arm opposite of her broken ribs to lift the cup to her lips and sip slowly. The water was a delicious reprieve from the dryness in her mouth and throat.

Candice began to try and talk again. More noise came out but she wasn't sure it was even audible what she said.

"Wha-ppened?" What happened?

While she remembered the torture, remembered floating in and out of consciousness and remembered dead men all around, she couldn't remember how she had gotten out of that despicable place. She didn't know who had saved her. She also didn't know why she had been captured to begin with. The rebels thought she had known some critical information but she didn't know anything.

She had heard the men from the camp speaking of some lady, who was vacationing in some other country but why would that mattering she heard that? Once she had realized who she was hearing she had turned to try and hurry away. That's when she had been captured and her hell had started.

Her eyes went back to the man in front of her as she waited for an answer. She studied him a bit. Tall, muscular, a cold glint in his eyes, and a face that was very handsome yet looked like it had seen too much of humanity. Dangerous, was the word that popped into mind when she looked at him.
 
Upon hearing the rasping creak of her voice Mark looked up from the papers and smiled.

"It's good to see you have your voice back." Talking with the nurses and doctor it would appear the girl was making a pretty speedy recovery, unfortunately the same could not be said for himself. They were looking at having to send him back to the US for tests they simply couldn't do here, which would mean abandoning the rest of the team, something which hurt deep down.

Mark walked and sat lightly on the side of the bed, careful not to put the woman in any discomfort. Leaning the crutches against the frame, he sighed. It was going to be a long story.

"They'll take you in for a proper debriefing when you get back home, it'll be in a big room with big people and they'll go over things again and again and ask you a million questions. You have that to look forward to. Essentially Miss you saw too much. The compound you were photographing was a training point for a small local militia, nothing big, but they're funded by some very bad people who want to keep the area in a civil turmoil. Bigger fish, and every once in awhile they come by to see what they pay for. You just so happened to identify some of these guys in your snaps, at least that's what we're hoping. This information could be incredibly useful to us when it comes to returning stability to the region and helping remove a couple potential threats."

He looked up to see if anything he'd said earned him a look of recognition or understanding. She had a glazed over expression, with an empty look - he doubted she'd heard a word of that. Mark sighed again.

"Bad guys took you. We don't like the bad guys, so we come to rescue you. Lots of shooting, lots of explosions, and I take one in the leg carrying your skinny ass outta there. Now we're here, and now you're safe. We can talk more about what happened when you're better, okay?"
 
Candice listened to his long-winded explanation of what had happened back in the enemy territory when they had rescued her, apparently. She caught the jist of what he was saying, but with her pain, and pain-medicine induced haze, she wasn't quite comprehending it as fast as she usually would have.

When he very obviously dumbed-down what he was saying, her first instinct was to get mad at him. Arrogant jerk. But her second was just to nod her understanding. Let him think she was dumb... why would it matter to her?

She turned from looking at him then and looked down at her body the best that she could. Her one arm was covered completely in gauze. She remembered why. The men had taken cigarettes and put dozens of burns on her skin, using her as- for all intents and purposes- an ash tray. The pain had been unbearable at the time, but she hadn't had anything to say that would satisfy them. She already knew that at least one rib was broken- the excruciating pain in her chest explained that. That had come when one of the men kicked her as hard as he could as they were capturing her. Her head pounded miserably and she reached up to touch her face where it hurt so bad. She grimaced slightly when she felt her tender jaw and all around her eye. She couldn't see but knew that they were black and blue. Those injuries were from multiple beatings at the hands of her captors. And finally were the whip marks across the front of her body. She was glad that she was in and out of consciousness during that particular part, the memory was foggy.

After taking a mental inventory of her body she looked back up at the man sitting on the edge of her bed with crutches.

"Sorry" she murmured quietly. "For... y'leg". She thought for a moment. "When-d I go ''ome?" When do I go home?
 
Mark inwardly winced as he imagined what she had to suffer through, but at the same time knew it could have been much, much worse. The girl was brave, he'd give her that, but stupid in equal measure. He doubted she'd be off out into that particular field in any hurry.

For him it was a different kind of pain; being shot in the leg was certainly not the worst injury he'd ever received, even out of combat Mark had been in more than a few bad spots. It hurt to put pressure on it but he could cope with that, what he couldn't bear was the chance that, as the doctor had so aptly put it, 'his fighting days were over'. No. Not yet, at least. That was why he fought so hard to get back to the States, for proper, supported medical treatment. He couldn't go out like that, just for some naive girl. Still, an apology was an apology, and he smiled when she said that.

"As soon as you're well, really. Given your pretty intense treatment that might be a week yet, but we wouldn't want to risk getting you hurt all over again. That said you won't be going home after that, not quite, but at least you'll be somewhere familiar." No point stressing the girl with details.

He looked into her eyes for few moments, the skin around them almost as deep a shade of green as the pupils themselves. At least it meant they were fading, but she was quite a sight to look at, so much so Mark couldn't quite suppress a small chuckle when he thought about it.
 
Candice sighed softly - which she learned hurt pretty badly- when he said it would be probably a week or so before she could go back to the USA. She had hoped for that day, or tomorrow at the latest. A week of staring at this white ceiling? She's go stir-crazy. She was a do-er. She constantly had to be moving about and doing things or she'd drive herself nuts. At least this man sitting next to her had finally smiled slightly...

That smile had transformed his face, taking him from the world-weary looking man to one who was a normal human being- at least to the casual observer. It had been remarkable and a nice sight.

He looked down at her and chuckled. Her eyebrows went down into a small glare. "Whas-o funny?" she mumbled.

She couldn't find anything remotely funny about being captured, tortured and then stuck in a hospital in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere for a week. The only funny part was that the one sexy man she had seen the whole trip was the one who had rescued her- and taken what was apparently a bullet in the leg, while doing it. That wasn't even funny... it was more like ironic.

"Whats your name?" she asked. Her voice was slowly coming back a bit as she used it more, although it was still hoarse and raspy sounding from her screaming.
 
"Nothing!" Mark felt ashamed slightly, it wasn't really his place to laugh, but if it were any of his comrades he'd do the same. Besides, she looked cute when she was angry. "You're just pretty beat up s'all, your face is.. kinda green?" He smiled again, but looked away shamefully, biting his lip to prevent another little outburst.

"The name's Mark, and I'm afraid you can't know any more than that. Some of the lads call me Bush after an op that went down in Afghan territory a while back, honestly either's fine by me." He looked back down at sheet in his lap for a quick refresher. "And you would be Candice Marketto, or at least you will be again after you're back in one piece again - successful photographer, it would seem, as well as a rather prestigious placement at" - another glance - "CBS, wow, a real prodigy in the flesh! Sorry if our little adventure was more intense than you're used to..."

Mark wasn't quite sure what to make of the woman. The picture was undoubtedly a flattering one, and the looks translated well into the flesh when it wasn't covered by cuts and bruises, she was obviously strong both physically and of heart, and judging by a flick over the sheet Candice Marketto was more than just a pretty face... Still, something about this woman irked and vexed him, and he couldn't quite work it out.
 
Candice's eyes flashed when he told her what he was laughing at. "You're laughing because I'm hurt?!" She asked incredulously, her voice breaking and cracking a bit as she spoke. "Geez. My first impression of you was that you were an ass" she said slowly. "You're proving that".

There was a slight curve to her lips as she said; letting him know that she wasn't actually mad, but at the same time she meant it. She watched as he looked through her file and read all about her life. She wished she had the same luxury as he did. A file on Captain Arrogant would be nice.

Candice sucked in a deep breath knowing she was about to talk a lot more than she probably should be...

"It wasn't too intense for me" she said softly, although her eyes were serious and unrelenting. "I'm a trained and seasoned professional. I know my job and I know how to do it well. I'm one of the best in my field. My company messed up this time. I was supposed to be nowhere within the vicinity of any of those men. CBS apparently didn't realize there was a camp there. I was out trying to find some scenic shots when I noticed them and they noticed me. I had no idea they were there".

Finally she stopped talking reached for her glass of water, looking at him. She didn't know why she felt the need to justify herself to this man. He didnt matter to her in the slightest so why care what he thought?
 
"Hey, we're not all perfect people! Besides, if you saw yourself in a mirror I'm pretty sure you'd agree!" One thing the file did not state was that this young lady was one hell of a tightass, Mark judged, but it was fun messing with her, and he knew she was enjoying it, even if Candice herself didn't yet.

Mark listened to her spiel with the tiniest of smiles. She certainly knew how to throw on the act, and that was impressive. Not many could come back from that sort of treatment without some serious PTSD. He considered asking her how one of the biggest news corporations in the world could get something like that wrong, how easily she was manipulated, tell her the truth. Then again, he too was a seasoned professional, the best there ever could be, and Mark was right there with her in the hospital. Circumstances notwithstanding it still hurt his pride. He decided bringing any of it up wouldn't do anyone any good though, so he kept his lips shut.

Instead he stood, and leant up against the wall to keep his blood flowing properly. "Oh wow, well, we're all very impressed with you," the hint of sarcasm infuriatingly veiled, "but using those mean words isn't very ladylike now is it, eh?"

A fly buzzed around his ear, and he felt the heat as the sun continued along its azimuth. Bed bound or not, he was still jealous of the ice-cold glass upon the bedside. No US meant no vending machine and no Coke. He was used to living life with the barest amenities but in this heat it was his own form of torture.
 
Candice watched as Mark stood and leaned against a wall. Even on crutches the man was graceful, almost catlike. He had been hiding in the shadows where she couldn't see him too. She knew he had to be some form of military but wasn't sure what. His training was obviously extensive if he had helped to infiltrate that camp and get her out.

She studied him quietly. "Am I still in danger?" She finally asked him, wondering if the "bad people" were gonna come after her again or if she were safe now. What she wanted to ask was if he were protectin her from something or if he was just hanging around because he was hurt also.

She absentmindedly moved to scratch an itch right below her chest and winced as her nails scratched one of the lacerations caused by the men and their whip. She rembered then that her shirt had been ripped off.

"Ugh. I was shirtless when y'all got me out wasn't I?" She asked frowning. What an inconvenient first impression that must have made, her sarcastic mind thought to itself.
 
Mark felt a little strange with her eyes on him, not judging but... surveying. Let her survey, many had tried before. He blinked away the thought, but couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was watching him intently. "No, you're fine. That is, unless you get a craving for some more nice jungle postcard snaps, but they wouldn't dare attack us here, not to mention we'll be home soon enough. Besides, the damage is already done, we have the pictures and they're being analysed stateside as we speak."

He couldn't help bite his lip as he saw Candice's accidental injury; it looked painful, and would only feel worse as she was taken off the meds and anaesthetics.

At that particular comment Mark laughed and looked away, blushing ever so slightly as he remembered noticing her semi-exposed chest whilst sprinting away from a large contingent of men with the sole goal of making sure they'd never leave that backwater swamp ever again. Still, he had to admit, it wouldn't have been the worst image to be his last ever thought.

Shuffling slightly, it was his turn to wince with the sudden pressure on his weak leg. It took some strength to avoid falling to the floor with a clatter, but Mark made it look effortless - there was no way he was going to make a fool of himself in front of this woman.

"That you did, Miss. Don't worry though, we've seen much worse and much more embarrassing, and with all those bullets flying I'm pretty sure our minds were on other things!" A warm, reassuring smile followed. He wasn't used to this sort of conversation.
 
Candice laughed softly, which nearly brought tears to her eyes it hurt so bad. "Oh God, don't make me laugh" she said still smiling, but wincing painfully. She took a few short breaths and then laid her head back against the pillow.

"Will you be traveling with me to America?" She asked once she had relaxed some. Even though he was an arrogant jerk, she was actually enjoying talking to Mark. It beat staring at the white ceiling all day. She knew he would probably leave soon but hoped it wouldn't be for a while. Besides... He was easy and fun to look at.

"What branch of the military are you in Mark? She was unsure if he could tell her that info but she was curious about him. She also wanted to ask if he had kids, was he married, did he plan on doing this forever?? All kinds of personal questions she had no right to ask him but wanted to know anyway. Instead of asking she merely waited with her mouth closed for him to answer the one question she HAD asked.
 
Mark couldn't help but smile himself to see her happy, the strength of human emotion overcoming the pain and stress of the situation they found themselves in. It was nice to know too she wasn't a total snob, and their little bonding session had helped to push his own problems to the back of his mind.

"Yup, I'm afraid you're not getting rid of me that easily! They figured it'd be better to send us together, saving on costs and whatnot. I think mainly they were worried you'd get lost." He waited to see her reaction to that little quip, her almost pretentious air made teasing her all the more entertaining.

"I can't tell you any specifics but I work for a team pretty high up in the military, I'm sure with a bit of investigative journalism and that big old brain of yours you'd be able to come up with a pretty good guess. I did two tours with the Rangers, I can tell you that at least." It was weird talking to this woman, she seemed genuinely interested in something most people awkwardly avoided. Her lips were pursed as she looked at him intently, eyes wide and innocent so much so he couldn't hold her gaze. Very strange indeed.
 
Candice glared at Mark when he joked about her getting lost. "I don't get lost" she said emphatically. "Companies like CBS get me lost". She smiled briefly at Mark.

She studied him as he explained some of his job. It interested her to no end ad she had hundreds of questions. One stuck out then but she was afraid to ask... But he needed to know.

"Mark... I... Well..." She hesitated. She didn't want to anger her seemingly only ally at that time.

"Did anybody else from your team get hurt or... Or... Well you know?" She asked quietly, staring at the sheets. She prayed no one else had gotten injured or killed by with all the fire she would have been surprised if everyone made it out unharmed.
 
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