The rest of the training mission goes fairly smoothly, except you never did manage to break into Mark's apartment. You even dropped down off your balcony onto his but the sliding door was locked.
Fortunately, you were still able to monitor and record a lot of information, just not his most personal life. Maybe it's better that way.
Throughout, you really felt Elliot's stealth training paying off, and feel like you have a natural talent for it. Stalking Mark was a unique challenge and you learned a lot.
You have a week or so of downtime before your next training block begins, if you want to do anything else, follow any leads, etc. Otherwise, you can find Mark at the Training Grounds back at HQ.
After the long training and getting settled she'll head out to order a large Chicago deep dish pizza, and hunt down the best (or most expensive) German beer she can get her hands on. She'll then head to Mark's place afterward and knock on his door.
"Hey Neighbor! Mind if I come in?"
The deep dish is from Unos, and it smells very good. The beer has an incredibly long name that's an obstacle course to pronounce, Weihenstephan Hefe Weissbier. You've no idea if it's any good but it was highly recommended.
After a moment, the door unlocks and opens as far as the chain. He looks surprised to see you, shuts the door and unchains it, then opens it all the way. "...Sang-mi," he looks at the pizza and beer, then slowly steps aside to let you inside. "What's the occasion?"
~~~
Mark's reaction to your explanation is partway between anger and surprise, but the gifts do a lot to smooth things over. He relaxes visibly when he takes the first drink of the beer. "That...is good. Listen, I don't like being spied on, don't do it again. But...I am glad to have you on my side, had no idea you were tracking me that close."
He's midway through another drink when you mention the fighting ring and his fighting career. "Mmm--yeah, you saw that huh? I get anxious between missions, feels good to get hit. In the army we did the same thing, regular fights, at night. Either command didn't know or didn't care. After I got discharged I did a stint in prison and fought there too. Winning made life pretty comfortable in there, considering."
"I hear I'm up next for your training block. If you're so eager, maybe we get you into the ring, as part of your training," he takes a big bite from a slice of deep dish.
"I would be honored to go with you to the ring." She says with visible excitement.
Sang-mi remembers that moment clearly as she steps into the ring for her first fight at "The Shack". Mark is one of those bodies composing the ring of people, currently clapping. The same terrible band is back, way too loud, and the crowd tries to scream louder.
A 6 foot bulky man steps into the ring, shirtless, tattooed, and bearded, wearing jeans but no shoes or socks. His movements aren't as slow as you'd expect from a typical American. He must have some amount of athletic training not just weightlifting. Some of the crowd boos when they see the terribly mismatched fighters. You get the feeling Mark must have arranged this fight with whatever pull he has here, or else they probably would have pitted you against another woman (or at least a similarly weighted man).
The plastic viking-helmet-wearing ref signals the fight to start and the big man begins stepping towards the center of the ring, fist out to 'touch gloves'. Some of the crowd murmur uncertainly under the music, others boo, others laugh and applaud.
"The f%~# is this b~+&~#@%?"
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"Beat that dumb b*+%@ down!"
"Somebody should stop this."
Mark nods to you.
Sang-mi has come ready for this: a sports top and loose fit running pants. She pulls tight the martial arts gloves then begins to stretch as the crowd warms up. As the hulk enters the opposite side of the ring she sizes him up, then nods across to him approvingly. As the ref slides in to begin the fight she slides the running pants off revealing the athletic shorts beneath, she tosses them aside then rolls her neck prepping and is clearly ignoring the crowd.
As the ref signals the fight to start and the man approaches to touch gloves, sang follows suit with her left hand out. Her eyes only for a moment leave the man to meet Mark's as the gloves touch.
As far as Sang-mi is concerned, there's only a crowd of one as the fight starts. No reason to drag this fight out or hold anything back. She unloads...
She starts with a feint into a right knee hoping to catch him off guard.
Following with a heavy left cross while he's distracted.
As he's staggered to the right, she throws a quick uppercut.
Then uses her momentum from the uppercut to roll into a turning sidekick.
... She holds in sidekick pose, leg fully extended, for just a moment then snaps the knee back and stands in a readied pose waiting for the response.
He doesn't even react to the feint, just lets you hit him. Your knee catches him square in the meaty abs and he doesn't even budge.
Before he can pull back his fist to take a swing you jump and hit him square in the side of the jaw, knocking his head back and making him wobble backwards, barely conscious, then the uppercut knocks him out cold and the sidekick to the ribs crumples him to the ground. The fight was over in a matter of seconds, before he could even take a swing.
There is a theatrical moment of stunned silence, even in the busy club. These people wanted a fight, and they're not sure exactly what they just witnessed. But a couple cheers ignite them into a roar. You look to Mark but he's gone, then you see him talking to the ref. A couple men drag the unconscious fighter out of the ring.
The ref grabs a microphone, "Yeah, alright, f$!+ it. Let's see what f~#%ing happens! Are you ready for this? Eyes to the ring!"
Three similarly large men step into the ring. One in a wifebeater, one with a shaved head, and the third is fat but heavily muscled. You recognize Wifebeater and Fatty as veterans that Mark fought, Baldy is a mystery. The ref signals the fight to start and the terrible garage band starts playing too.
Baldy isn't taking any chances and runs straight at you with a lunging forward kick. You sidestep but it still glances off your ribs and knocks you off balance with the sheer mass behind it. The other two men close in but are hesitating.
Sensing more danger from the recognized veterans Sang-mi makes her move. She steps in on Wifebeater and engages...
She leads with a strong kick to his inner thigh, attempting to knock him off balance or lose footing...
Then following with a superman punch hoping to disorient him..
And finishing with a rising knee to his jaw to put him down.
Then She pops into a defensive position anticipating the next attack.
Stepping past Baldy, you kick Wifebeater's thigh and he falls to one knee, shocked by the power of the strike. It lines him up for the superman punch that flattens him out cold. You immediately spin with a sweep at Fatty but he's quicker than he looks and steps back in time. He returns with a low kick of his own but you spring nimbly out of the way and back to your feet just in time to see Baldy tackle where you just where, falling as he grabs at empty air.
HP 11-8-10 DOWN
Resisted
6 damage to fatty
New init order:
Baldy,
Sang-mi,
Fatty.
A quick shuffle of her feet, Bruce Lee style, and she moves forward. Normally she wouldn't strike a downed opponent but figures the circumstances warrant it. She moves to Baldy...
...starting with an axe kick to the abdomen.
Then catching his jaw with a flick of her foot on the draw back to stance.
She quickly glances a bout the crowd, scanning for any other 'surprises'.
The axe kick knocks the wind out of him as he's trying to get up, then the kick to the jaw knocks him out.
The remaining heavyset fighter doesn't wait for you to recover, swinging for your face as soon as you knock Baldy out. His knuckles glance off the side of your head, bringing a rush of dizziness and a warm trickle down your scalp. His hands immediately return to a defensive stance as he keeps moving towards you, looking for more openings to strike. He seems to have shaken off the strike you landed on him earlier.
Sang-mi's chest heaves, "Breath you fool breath!" she can hear her wushu instructor shouting in her head.
Another breath and then she moves in on the final opponent...
... She starts with a front facing high kick.
Followed by a quick drop into a sweep.
Using the spinning momentum she combos into a roundhouse kick, throwing her weight into it. This is accompanied by a Bruce Lee "Whootah!" as she kicks through, returning to a defensive stance.
At this point Sang-mi is visibility starting to looked gassed.
Your high kick slips between his blocking hands, catching him hard in the chin. He wobbles, you can tell you almost just KO'd him, but he's hanging on, and manages to lift his foot in time to avoid your sweep.
Before he can regain his balance your roundhouse knocks him flat.
The crowd roars again, and the ref hands you a thick heavy envelope of what you assume is cash and holds your other hand in the air to more cheers.
"What a f@++ing show!" The voice over the speaker shouts.
You spot Mark again, and he's grinning maniacally and clapping. He nods towards the exit, offering to lead you out of there if you want.
Sang-mi digs around and picks up her running pants and tosses them over her shoulder then pushes her way out following Mark.
"Have fun?" She says with a smirk as she pushes the envelope of money against his chest, handing it over to him.
Mark chuckles, but withholds his answer until you're crossing the parking lot towards his red jeep. It's a full moon tonight.
"That was...not what I expected. Knew you had guts, and could fight, but I'd never seen you go all out like that. I don't even know what the f@*! to say. But I'll tell you, I did not intend for you to win that," he glances over to Sang-mi, then shrugs. "Just wanted to push you."
He drives back to the HQ. It's dark, but the garage door opens so Mark can drive up the ramp inside. When the door lowers shut behind, the garage lights turn on and Mark steps out, leading you to the medical room and digging around for some bandages and alcohol. "Sit," he gestures offhandedly to the hospital bed then comes over with the first aid supplies, cleaning and bandaging the cut on your scalp, then prods at the painful bruise on your ribs.
"No breaks or fractures, you'll be fine."
The following day when you come in for work, you spot Elliot eating breakfast in the mess hall and notice he has a broken nose. He nods to you but doesn't bring it up.
Your first training block with Mark follows the same motif: pushing you. He has you up early, running with a heavy pack on, rock climbing at a local gym's wall, and even a couple trips to an Olympic sized pool for some swimming training. You feel like you're in boot camp, and go to sleep sore and exhausted every night. Throughout, Mark isn't more than your drill instructor. There's no chit chat. By the end of the month you feel like you've made serious progress in cardio and endurance.
Next month is a lot more fun. Mark loads up the 'work' van with heavy munitions and drives over two hours north of downtown with you.
You learn a bit more about Mark on the drive, though there isn't much in the way of juicy details. Parents dead, one brother died when he was too young to remember him. Never married. No girlfriend. No friends, besides you and Elliot. The most interesting thing you learned is when he mentioned a 'mentor' of his, in the past tense, but wouldn't say much more about whoever it was.
The destination is a huge gun range that looks like it should be busy, but is completely empty. "Rented it out," Mark explains as he slings two dufflebags over his shoulders and hands you a third. It's heavy. The two of you walk out onto the range and Mark starts unzipping the bags. Ear protection, eye protection, two machineguns, a rocket launcher, a grenade launcher,
and a lot of ammunition.
Mark guides you through loading the weapons, general safety, changing out overheated barrels, how to properly clear a jam from a grenade launcher without blowing yourself up, firing from prone on a bipod vs. crouched, firing in controlled bursts, and some tactical training for how to keep an area pinned down while Mark pretends to go up the side to flank the imaginary foes, getting around their cover. You spend all day at the range, and into the night, when Mark shows you how to use tracer rounds to zero in on targets, using the streaks of light left by the rounds to correct your aim.
"You can see tracers in the day too, if you're paying attention, it's just more of a show at night so I saved em," he grins, clearly enjoying himself.
The next two days are spent at the CSB HQ, taking apart, cleaning, oiling, and reassembling different light machineguns (LMGs). Mark explains they're 'light' because "You don't just carry around machine guns, they're mounted on vehicles." The LMGs are exponentially more complicated than the smaller weapons you're used to, with so many more moving parts. Not too hard to take them apart, but reassembling feels like taking an exam at school.
"This may seem pointless, but understanding how these big bastards work on the inside can make the difference between life and death on the field. If you're too slow to change out a barrel, or clear a jam, it could be your last mistake."
And then another long ride in the van, back out to the firing range. Mark mentions this 'mentor' again, "I was pretty lost when he found me. I'd gotten into a fight, don't even remember what it was over anymore. I knocked some guy right into one of those burning rusted out metal drum things hobos warm up around. Just scorched him a bit. Anyway, I guess my old mentor liked what he saw. We were kind of inseparable from there," Mark is quiet after that, just staring ahead at the road as he drives in silence.
Glancing back at Mark in the car, "I knew.." She said confidently, "But I also didn't want to disappoint you."
During the next morning she glances at Elliot and does a double-take. "Mark?" She says examining his face. A hot wash of embarrassment rushes over her, 'How'd he find out? Is this my fault? How could he have known?' all rush through her mind in an instant as she awaits his response.
After his previous mentions of the 'mentor' and this new one Sang-mi isn't able to hold back her curiosity, "You've had dis mentor on your mind for some time, what happened if you don't mind me asking?" She doesn't peruse of the issue if he's very tight lipped but will listen if he has anything to share.
Elliot looks surprised when you say 'Mark', but quickly hides it, "Nah, just got it during training."
He can tell he's already revealed his hand, so he sighs and sets his fork down. "Don't look like that, it was my idea and the consequences were fair enough."
"That's a... long story," He looks over, sees the curiosity in Sang-mi's expression and sighs heavily. "And we've got a long drive. Alright, fine."
"My mentor, let's call him... S, was an ambitious guy. You hear about secret societies as being these powers in the shadows, but every one had to start somewhere. S wanted his own, f#%$in' believed in it, obsessed over it. It was literally just him, when he found me. That was his entire organization, 'The Black Hand' he called it, named after some old Slavic conspiracy," Mark chuckles. "And he wanted me to join. S was a charismatic guy. Had a way of making you feel like no one understood you but him, and that he was the only one truly on your side. And I guess I was pretty directionless at the time. I'd spent my life in the discipline of the army, and now I was free. Guess I was an easy target."
You turn off of a sideroad between farm plots, onto a main road, and eventually get onto a freeway, merging over and cruising along at a steady pace. On either side of the freeway is mostly farmland, everything is so flat.
"At first it just felt like... being part of a gang. We'd push other gangs out of our 'territory', rough up shops and businesses for 'protection' money. Stole drugs from gangs then sold it ourselves. S wasn't just a leader, he was a hell of a fighter too. Preferred a pair of butterfly knives over guns. Said in 99% of situations a knife will end a fight before someone can raise their gun. And I saw him do it, a lot. Once he had money the rest started to fall into place, piece by piece. Started hiring the gangs we'd fought with, to work for him now. Took over a small piece of the drug trade. We became like brothers, close."
Farms gradually turn into suburbs as you drive. Mark is watching the road but his mind is far away.
"And I took out the competition. Drug cartels and the like are held together by central power. A boss. And everyone wants that spot. You take out a boss in his own home, and the organization eats itself alive in the power vacuum, then S would sweep in, clean up, and take over. A couple hundred bucks turned into a couple thousand, into a couple hundred thousand, and then millions. The Black Hand had become a real thing. Intimidating politicians was pretty easy compared to taking out cartel bosses. And anyone can be bought with that kind of money. S was...completely focused. He didn't have a end goal like 'get revenge on so and so', or 'become president', or whatever the hell else people amass power for. The means was the ends, he just wanted more power. And when you're already influencing the world's superpowers, how do you go further?"
Mark glances over at you, as if remembering you're there and debating if he should share this with you or not. "He started looking into other ways to gain power. Voodoo, Satanism, that kind of thing. Started keeping more isolated. And...I swear I saw some weird, dark s$~*. He wanted me to be a part of it, invited me in to his...ritual...things. I did some things I'm not really proud of and--" Mark stops. "Anyway, one day he just vanished. Went into one of those rituals and I never saw him again. They wanted me to take his place but...I'd never had the ambition S had, I didn't want to lead anyone. So I left, and The Black Hand tore itself apart, spectacularly. The Mayor took the opportunity to crack down on 'gangs and organized crime', and wiped out the stragglers."
Suburbs turn to industrial, and Mark exits the freeway, heading for the CSB HQ.
"That was...over a decade of my life, following S. I still wonder if he's out there somewhere. Maybe he ran off down some secret escape tunnel to start a new organization, or maybe he just...changed his identity and started a family. I don't know. I don't feel like he's dead though, just...not here."
"What is dis!? You hit Elliot! Why!?" she demands as she finds Mark.
Sang-mi listens quietly, introspective of her own recent 'events', and lets Mark finish his story.
"Now you are my mentor, do not go running off." She says after with a smile and a chuckle.
Mark shrugs, "Fairs fair. Me and him are square."
~~~
"I'd say goodbye. Anyway, that was a long time ago."
Something bothers you in that moment, but you can't quite put your finger on what. It almost feels like Mark was lying about something, but you didn't detect any deception.
You try to put together a basic timeline of Mark's life. According to his file he's 38, enlisted at 18, served for 12 years, then worked as a soldier of fortune for 8. That lines up perfectly, very perfectly. It would leave no gaps at all. When was this 'over a decade' of time spent with his 'mentor'...? Even if that was counted in his time as a soldier of fortune, it still doesn't add up.
You have two months left of training and decide to spend it on meditation and self-reflection. You were still having recurring nightmares and wanted to try and center yourself, deal with them, clear your head. Some nights you relived that moment outside the farmhouse when your foot snagged and you nearly died, the intense pain shooting through your head, then darkness. Other nights you're trapped in that circular metal prison until fear shook you awake sweating.
"Why not hit me too den?" She steps up to him.
"He and I are equal in dis." she continues as she holds out her arms, offering an open shot.
The first long stretch of "recovery" Sang-mi struggles, long nights of tossing and turning, of screams into pillows, dazed semi consiousness sitting with the cold shower pouring on her. She tries to combat this the way that is most comfortable for her- physical exhaustion. She works out hard, using the workouts taught to her by Mark, but to little avail.
Next she turns to Wushu, but the Peking school she went to was a performance art school, the meditative and introspective qualities stripped away for pragmatism.
Finally she turns for help, Mark would be a poor choice in her opinion.. in him she saw the same wolf she saw in herself, only more veteran, and she could see he hadn't come to grips with his old wounds yet either. So she turned to Elliot, telling him of the nightmares, of the woman on the street, and her fear that the head injury might get worse. She looks to his wisdom on what to do.
Mark looks you over. "Coming clean helped. The apology with pizza and beer helped. And it wasn't your idea."
Your body is strong, but in the dreams it's always powerless. You can hear the echos of that mocking laughter even in your waking moments.
Elliot asks you to meet him at his home to talk.
It's about as 'american dream' as you can get, it looks like it's straight from a commercial. Literal white picket fence, two BMWs in the driveway, one silver and one blue, in front of a large garage.
There's even a welcome mat--and a small security camera aiming down from above you, nearly hidden, but with your experience and passive awareness you spot it.
The door opens before you can press the doorbell button or knock.
Elliot smiles, his nose looks a bit better. "Sang-mi. Good to see you."
He shuts the door behind you and locks it. "I told Joan you're here. She'll... come down, eventually."
The house is neatly decorated, expensive and taken care of, very clean. Elliot gestures to the couch and sits in a nearby chair. It reminds you of the farmhouse, the one that burned down. He listens to your story, what's been troubling you, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his gaunt features and dark eyes unreadable but focused.
He leans back. Choosing his words carefully. "I'm not a therapist, and it sounds like you might need one. You went through a lot really quickly," he raises a hand if you start to protest. "But I'll tell you what I think."
"I think you had decided to give your life, but you didn't die. Worse yet, it changed you irreparably and you feel less than what you were. Like you left a piece of yourself at that safehouse. And--"
Footsteps down the stairs and 'Joan' peeks in, then waves. Brown hair, brown eyes, pretty. Wearing typical teenage American girl clothes and accessories, as if they were handing out mandatory uniforms. You remember Elliot saying she was 16 awhile ago.
"Hi, I'm Joan. You work with my dad?" She seems to realize she's standing too far away and walks up to stand behind Elliot's chair.
Sang-mi remains quiet during Elliot's synopsis. It wouldn't take a lot of effort to see that she's very distraught over the whole thing, particularly the waking hallucinations. A rush of adrenaline washes over her as Joan pops in. Quickly she regains her composure and smiles as Joan comes down.
"Hi, yes Elliot is my friend.. we do work together." She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, finding the whole situation unusual and being a little embarrassed.
There's about...4 seconds of awkward silence, interrupted by the doorbell ringing.
"Oh, Max is here. Bye Dad. Bye Dad's friend," Joan kisses the top of Elliot's head and hurries to the door.
Elliot gives you an apologetic smile and stands, taking a few steps after Joan. "Just be back by like 10 alright? Or call me by then with an update. Okay?"
"Yup!" Joan answers cheerily and opens the door.
Grinning outside is presumably 'Max', a girl, with short jet black hair, two lip rings, heavy eyeliner, red lipstick, a sleeve of colorful tattoos and a short white tanktop. "Hi Mr. Birch," she waves at Elliot before the two walk off holding hands.
Elliot shuts the door behind them and watches from the window a moment. He says over his shoulder to you, "Sorry about that."
He comes back over, but doesn't sit.
"Uh, what I was saying though, is that you should really see a professional about it. But if you're not going to, I'd recommend going somewhere quiet where you won't be bothered, work through it on your own," he watches you, weighing his next words carefully. "Think about...what you left behind, what you brought with you, and who you are now. Face your demons instead of running. Fight it out, even when it hurts."
There's pain in his own eyes for a moment, then he nods to you.
Sang-mi stands and follows Elliot to the window, watching out over his shoulder. She takes note of Max and anything else she sees.
Remaining at the window and staring out as he steps back into the room she listens quietly then responds, "Deh only thing I know how to do is fight."
Glancing back at him over her good side she sighs,"Who should I talk to?"
Sang-mi's demeanor shifted the moment Joan came walking down. She was more interested now in the family dynamic, what she and Elliot had talked about.
Maybe it was a defense mechanism, push her problems down for the mission at hand, she was intent on knowing more about what Elliot was struggling with. She couldn't let him know... She hoped that with his training and her acting experience she had hidden it, but she knew he was the cunning and intelligent. She could only hope...
Joan and Max get into an older blue pickup truck with band stickers on the back, and after Elliot turns away you see them kiss.
When you ask Elliot your question, he's already watching you closely.
"I still don't want you to beat her up."
He watches you a moment longer, and is about to say more, but you hear the engine start outside and you know you don't have much time if you want to follow them.
The cold chill of being caught runs down her spine. She couldn't hope to beat Elliot at this game, and she didn't want to disrespect him either.
"Let me talk to her, daughter to daughter. Where are dey going?" She steps away from the window and back into the living room.
The one benefit she had was she knew he knew where they'd gone, that's what he does. She turn and sat back in the seat waiting for his response.
Elliot sighs and sits down on the couch, taking your spot. He looks tired, but then he always does, that's just how he is.
"I'm not sure interrupting her date is the best timing."
Sang-mi rolls her eye and gets over and walks and sits next to him, nudging him with her shoulder.
"Oh Elliot, you know I didn't mean interrupt deh date. I'll just make she stays honest and is home by 10... I promise I won't beat up Max" her tone is playful and she throws an arm over his shoulders.
"Sometimes deh best way to help one's self is to help others, yes?" She gives him a big smile, waiting to see if he gives in.
"They're going to the railroad tracks near Cicero and 26th. If they see you, they'll assume I sent you to follow them and I doubt you'll be able to convince them you came on your own. So do me a favor and don't be seen," he stands, gives your hand a squeeze, then walks to the door, opening it for you. His expression is hard to read.
She stands and follows, stopping at the door and pushing him by the shoulder.
"10'o'clock, plenty of time. Let's go get something to eat." with a smile she gestures toward her car.
Elliot politely declines the invitation, but offers to cook, and if allowed, makes a salmon pasta bake, asparagus, and beef vegetable stew. He tells you about a few old cases he worked at Interpol, and seems happy enough.
~~~
After dinner, you head out to find Joan. You park a little ways from the train tracks and go the rest of the way on foot in a dark hoodie.
Sang-mi is overjoyed at the idea of having dinner there, walking back into the house with a smile on her face.
one thing that becomes fairly evident as the two of them eat: Sang-mi eats like an athlete. She seems to have a particular love of the Salmon bake.
As they talk and he shares his stories of his time in Interpol she reciprocates with tales of North Korea (from the point of view of a child) and of her time studying Wushu. Through the evening the edge of concern will have worn off as she seems more relaxed.
Elliot seems happy enough to serve up seconds, then thirds. He says he never gets to cook for anyone but Joan. He also seems intensely interested in the government and policing of North Korea, but recognizes that you were young and that was a long time ago.
When you leave, Elliot looks a bit worried but says, "I'm really glad she'll have you watching out for her."
It's dark. The railway junction area is complex and sprawling. A dozen different tracks, some new, some old, all run parallel and intersect in different places, with switches and garages. There's a few small warehouse buildings, big stacks of wooden pallets, and an assortment of other types of cargo shipping equipment you can't name. You spot the back of Max's truck behind one of the warehouse buildings, and guess that the girls can't be too far from it.
Sneaking carefully alongside train-cars, using them as cover, you get close enough to spot them in the dim yellowish glow of a nearby warehouse's outdoor lamp. Max is laying down in the gravel with a camera, taking pictures of Joan leaning against a traincar as dramatically and teen-angstily as possible. You can hear giggling, and Max say, "Hold--still. You have to hold still. With this long of exposure time you're gonna be all f@##in' blurry Joan. Just...hold your breath okay?"
You see Joan flip Max off, but then dutifully return to her pose.
"No wait, that was great! Flip me off again. Hold that pose."
Click------click.
"Booyah, that's going to be perfect," Max gets up with a grin and runs up to Joan, holding her hand out, camera hanging from its sling around her neck. Joan laughs and takes her hand, and they run off together, disappearing behind the warehouse that Max's truck is behind. You hear car doors shutting, but no engine.
You sneak closer, and can see the truck clearly now. No sign of Max or Joan. The truck is off, no lights inside. 10 o'clock goes by. No change.
What do you do?
She becomes concerned as 10pm rolls around and there is no sign of the girls, so she sneaks her way up to the truck. Using it as cover she begins to look out for where they may have gone, in particular if there are other vehicles near by.