Turkey, Istanbul

Marcus strode forth, pushing through the dense street crowd, he saw this, Ferhan, as the forigner as said. The voice in the back of Marcus's head was a constant scream now, he'd never been this long without medication. 'kill him, skin him, turn him inside out...level this city block while your at it!' It begged him for stimulus. It had been month since he'd seen any action and the God of War inside of him was begging to be let out. It was taking nearly all his strength to keep his composure, if he didn't get some release soon he was going to explode.

Marcus made a B-line for the tiny dark eyed man. He walked up to the desk and placed both his fists down onto the desk making it creak under the pressure. "Senin arkadaşın burada senin yerel pimp olduğunu söyler. şimdi beni anlat kızın birçoğu o dolu senin için çalıştırır. Bana...Onlar locals değil onlar gelir?" Marcus said and stared hard into the small man's eyes. "In case you are immune to knowing the language of the land you are in.....I want to know where the Order of Enoch is, You may not know where their headquarters are, but you know at least where one of their Cells can be located. They sell girls, they buy unwanted child." Marcus restated in English, to emphasize his point.

Clayton stood shocked in the door way watching Marcus made a mad dash for the man. He knew something was up when Marcus had been grimly silent the whole way there, but still his jaw dropped causing his cigarette to fall out of his mouth. “What the hell is this guy doing?” he thought while he watched Marcus yell at the man. He was saying something in English but Clay didn’t quite catch it.

“Lütfen, lütfen ... yok ... lütfen” the terrified meek Ferhan stuttered as he raised his hands up. Ferhan seemed to be the type to scare easier than most when faced with the threat of pain but anyone in this situation would have been downright terrified. “Beni incitme edin. Eğer Order of Enoch istiyorum
e-e-evet?” (Please do not hurt me. You want Order of Enoch, y-y-yes?) he attempted regain his composure forcing his fake smile again “Ferhan sen Enoch Sipariş verebilir. Sadece işim için sorun neden etmeyiniz.” (Ferhan can give you Order of Enoch. Just please do not cause trouble for my business.) He reached his right hand down slowly and picked up a pen. “You go here. Do not tell them Ferhan sends you. I beg of you... I have a family.” He pleaded as he scribbled an address on a napkin.

Clay had no idea what the men were talking about but Ferhan seemed terrified of Marcus and Marcus seemed like he was going to kill Ferhan. Whatever Marcus was after, he was serious but Clayton had already paid for his stay here and he wasn’t about to let Marcus mess that up. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing, man?!” he called out to the giant as he stepped forward. He would get Marcus out of there and apologize to Ferhan with a little extra money and hopefully Ferhan wouldn't have him killed in his sleep. He grabbed the big man’s shoulder; if Centurion would attack he would act defensively, using his skills to try to dodge everything thrown at him.

The Centurion smiled, his dog-snarl smile at the small fellow and then seized the paper. "Ben senin senin bana bu verdiğin veya beni dahi gördüğün hiçkimseye bahsetmeni istemem. Ben senin arkadaşına collateral Clayton götürüyorum. sen beni aldatır yine de ben Tanrı öfkesi senin üstünde düşürmeyeceğim. Sen anlar mısın?" (I do not want you to mention to anyone that you gave me this, or even saw me. I am taking your friend Clayton as collateral. If you betray me in anyway I will bring the wrath of God down upon you. Do you understand?). Marcus said to Ferhan.

The massive man turned just as Clayton had worked up the nerve to lay a hand on the big man's shoulder. Marcus turned and smiled at Clayton. " Good news, my new friend....Your boss said that you should come with me, as my liaison, on his behalf. We should go, now....this is the address. Lead me here now...OK?" Marcus looked sheepishly at Clay with a big dumb look on his face. It was off putting like a wolf grinning below a sheep's clothes.

It was a simple plan, but most of the most effective plans, were just that, simple. Marcus would get into the neighborhood and find a building across the way from the address. Surveillance and then form a plan of attack. He could use Clayton as another set of eyes, maybe try to use him to get inside and get a head count. Then....well, what else does a God of War do.....'Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war' of course. If he was lucky one of them would be left alive, for him to question.

Ferhan wasn’t the most intelligent person in the world, but he was smart enough not to tell Marcus that he didn’t actually know Clayton. In fact, they had only spoken once before. He simply shuddered and nodded his head rapidly to show he understood.

“WHAT?! Oh no… that… that is not going to fly. I’m not a baby sitter!” Clayton exclaimed looking up at Marcus. “Wait a minute….” He thought before he spoke, “How much is he paying for this?” he asked looking directly into Marcus’s eyes. A million questions raced through his head, “Who is this guy? What does he want from me? What exactly does he do for the man who hired him to steal pottery from a museum? Why me? Has this guy ever showered?” he didn’t ask any of them, not yet. Regardless of Marcus’s answer to his question of payment he would simply gesture towards the door in an “after you” motion. Marcus was going to have to lead the way for obvious reasons.

Once the two were out of the building the timid Ferhan's back straightened and he seemed to become a take on a different personality entirely. He picked up a cellphone from the desk and called the only number programmed into it. "I have sent him to you... the big man asking all the questions.... It would appear he has acquired a new friend, an American.... Neither should be too difficult...Yes, I understand..... Am I to expect to be rewarded for this?..." He spoke to the phone, " Sieg Heil." he said and hung up.

Whatever was going on here, Clayton was sure it wouldn’t end well. He could feel it in his gut and his gut had never been wrong before.

(damn, you really surprised me here....good job! Great post, and I hope to see more like it!)

Marcus watched as the gears inside Clayton's head spun, and in truth, Marcus really didn't need an escort, but the man was unassuming and would be useful for the information gathering portion of the mission. When Clayton agreed, Marcus smiled; content with at least having someone that spoke English; not to mention the striking resemblance in personality to Adriano back in NY. He hadn't thought about NY since seeing Ana and the thought of the time he'd spent there made him homesick, if not for a second.

Living here, undercover was hard now. When he was young and stationed in the Middle East with his peers in the Marine special forces outfit, things had been easier. Now he felt alone and vulnerable in this desert and the thought of the JOAK's specialized interrogation methods frightened him more than he'd like to admit. While reminiscent about glory days past, Marcus caught the cricked nosed look of disgust on Clay's face. They started walking and Marcus snuck a smell of his under armpits, he was ripe with the smell of the local cuisine; curry wafted off him.

"Payment...yes...payment....You need not worry about payment....My services as a bodyguard are covering it. It seems your friend has set us up. I will keep you from danger, and you will give me a hand with getting a girl that knows when to shut her mouth on the dime....hahahahahHAHAHAHAH!. But I have to stop by a friends house first. He left me some packages and I need to put my hands to them.....Don't worry it's not that far out of the way!" Marcus said, now in a perfectly normal American accent. He didn't care what the smuck's reply was, and knew whatever Clay was into it wasn't about being a tourist. Clay knew the wrong king of people and that meant he could be used to benefit Marcus's machinations in one facility or another.

They pushed through the crowded streets, people parting ways at the sight of the Centurion's massive form. Normally Marcus would have told anyone to 'watch their pockets' but it seemed his new companion was already more than aware of that fact. Marcus took note and added it to his assumptions about Clay. When they arrived at a small, back-alley vendor Marcus turned to Clay; raising his hand in affrication for Clay to hold-on a second. He approached the shady looking Arab salesman and a brief , heated discussion takes place in a whispered Turkish tongue. It becomes even more heated even though Marcus is immense in size the smaller bearded man doesn't seem to be intimidated. With an impass reached, Marcus comes walking back to Clay.

"Hhhhmmmmm....It seems this..... swindler is owed a bit of coin for his trouble of holding my gifts....I don't carry any money on myself....Do you think you could loan me a few bucks until we get back to my house?" Marcus stated in a slightly deflated tone. He barely waited for Clay's response before asking: "How much you got on ya?"

The temperature hadn’t actually dropped much, but with the sun gone it seemed much cooler. While they walked Clayton and Marcus were approached by various young boys and men attempting to sell items ranging from cigarettes to camels to bootleg dvds, all of which were turned down. Once they made it to the back alley vendor Clayton watched as Marcus argued with the much smaller, apparently much much older man. It was almost like watching looney toons in Turkish. After a minute or so of playing "duck season, rabbit season" the vendor shook his head firmly and waved his arms and Marcus came lumbering back over.

When the big man came to him asking for money all Clayton could do was shake his head and sigh. “Really?” he asked, Marcus seemed like a kid begging for candy, a muscular bearded kid begging for candy. “I still have no idea what’s going on right now and this guy comes asking me for money... This is the LAST time I risk my neck for any bored rich people.” he thought, this also wasn't the first time he made that vow and it probably wouldn't be the last. Clayton should have simply turned him down but with his next payment coming any day now he wouldn’t miss a few dollars. He pulled a handful of bills from his pocket, “This should cover whatever it is but you better pay me back, buddy.” He said, pointing a finger at the big man before handing him the money. Clayton didn't actually think he'd be paid back, but it'd be nice.

Clayton was still confused by this whole situation; he’d have to take it up with the crazy billionaire paying him for this later. Marcus was clearly much more than he seemed, mentally at least, but though he had suspicions Clayton really doubted he was being played here.