(no subject)

[kayip]

July 3, 2012
10:45 EST

"- indicates the bombers may have been Islamic extremists –"

"Of course," Farid interjects over the voice of the anchor, who spoke while images of blood-stained white sheets, survivors struggling through smoldering remains, and ambulance lights flashed on the screen. "Always the first thing they say."

"It's not that unlikely," Sareh responds quietly, fiddling somewhat with the fabric over her hair in an agitated way. Behrooz, for his part, is sitting behind the counter, staring at the screen of the television on the shelf and isn't really paying attention to their conversation.

"Yeah, and they said that after that hotel in LA four years ago, and that was some white British guy," Farid answers, the images switch back to the anchor. "And remember Marietta?"

" – early estimates put casualty numbers in the hundreds –"

"And after that thing with Heller –"

"It doesn't matter, Farid," their father finally interrupts. "Sareh, you probably shouldn't watch the store alone for a while."

"At least they already arrested you," Sareh sounds annoyed, and the comment makes both of them stare at her for a moment. Behrooz's eyes just stay on the tv.

"Orhan?" This finally shakes him out of his stupor, and Behrooz turns to look at older man. "You look tired – you should go home. We can stay here."

Behrooz hesitates, glancing between Sareh and Farid who were both staring at the floor now, but nods and gets up.

"I'll – see you tomorrow," he stammers at both of them – only Sareh sort of nods without looking up.

It's when Behrooz is outside, and walking through the small, dark parking lot, that he regrets walking to work in the morning. It's been about fifteen minutes since the reporting started – he'd expected Firuz - or someone to call him soon.

And it felt too much like a calm before the storm, however much that could be said now.

He walks onto the sidewalk, deciding he can take the bus back, and really, really tries to not think about what he'd just seen, because he's acutely aware of how it's probably going to very soon come crashing down around him.

It doesn't take long.

It's a few minutes after he reaches the stop, when the dark blue van pulls up onto the otherwise empty street next to him. The bus isn't supposed to come for another ten minutes, but when the van pulls into the lane he's already walking rather quickly in the other direction. It breaks into a run when hears the sliding door and footsteps against the asphalt, but something makes him stop – a very recognizable voice, coming from that van.

And it's the last thing he remembers, before he wakes up inside it. It's moving again, and he clutches at the floor before someone grabs his shoulders, and he's against a wall and something on his neck really hurts -

His fist collides with someone's face and it all becomes clearer with the yelp as the man moves back – one of his handlers, sliding away from him as another – this one dressed in black rather than the suit the handler is wearing – holds Behrooz's shoulders to the wall.

"You – you knew this and you didn't – "

"I told you what would happen!" he protests, really wishing they'd (what are you going to do to me?) get off of him. "I told you to arrest them, don't blame this on me."

The handler opens his mouth to shout something Behrooz is pretty sure he won't like, but the woman's voice – what he realizes he'd heard out in the parking lot – cuts in.

"Behrooz, you said they didn't have explosives." She's sitting in the front seat, rubbing her forehead though Behrooz can smell something more like fear coming from her.

"I told you I didn't think they did and I still don't." He rather abruptly becomes aware of the taser his handler's holding. "Look, I told you everything - why don't you just arrest them now?"

The van stops, and a red light spreads in through the windshield. No one speaks for a long moment, but finally, Behrooz moves his shoulders and the man holding him lets him go.

"Behrooz… it's not – it'd still be better if –"

Before she can continue, something rings, and Behrooz recognizes his own phone. The woman tosses it back from the front. It skids slightly, and Behrooz picks it up.

"It's – Firuz," he says quietly, looking to her.

"Answer it," the man says sharply. And Behrooz doesn't wait to flip the phone open.

"Hello?"

"I'm sure you've seen the news."

"Yes – sir," he stammers it out and can feel the glare across the van. "It's – incredible."

"This is only the beginning, Orhan. Come in – twenty minutes."

The phone clicks off. Behrooz stares at the screen for a moment.

"What did he say?" the man asks. Behrooz looks up to him, now.

"Things are going to get a lot worse."