The Only Way I Know

[Hank Mason]

"don’t quit 'til the job gets done"

"that’s the only way I know"

Normally Hank Mason was a pretty easy going man. Some of that had to do with his natural personality, some of it was due to years of training. Working in high stress situations where his ability to be be calm and cool were critical. However, every man had his limits or certain things that set him on edge. Not that you could really tell that Hank was stressed unless you knew him well or you got the chance to get close enough to hear he was clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth.

One of those things for Hank was being forced to navigate busy public airports. This trip he had not only one to deal with but three. First it was Louis Armstrong New Orleans International (MSY), why the hell he had chosen a flight that left at 5:45pm on a Friday, he will never know. Not only rush hour traffic on the ride over to contend with but the influx of weekend tourist hitting town had the airport filled to capacity. An hour and a half of flight time and then he had a connecting flight in Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International (ATL). Atlanta was even worse. The busiest airport in the world and that was no lie.

His layover was supposed to be one hour and forty-two minutes, but with the flight delayed in New Orleans, by the time they let him deplane in Atlanta he had to race from one side, clear across the expansive ATL, to the other side in order to make the gate for the connecting flight to Boston's Logan International Airport (BOS). With a time change thrown in there, when he arrived in Boston is was 1:00am. At least that would mean the traffic, both inside the airport and out, wouldn't be as bad. Still, seemed he spent more time in the airports than he did actually in the air. Yeah, that is what had his teeth set on edge as he walked through the wide concourse on his way to the baggage claim area.

Dressed in a black button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black jeans, a black leather belt with silver buckle, black cowboy boots and a black baseball cap, turned backwards and pulled down tight on his head. Except for the ball cap this was considered dressed up for the man from Thibodaux, Louisiana. He carried an Army issue OD green ruck sack slung over one shoulder. In his hand was another Army issue, same OD green, flight bag. His boots thudded on the floor as he walked and he was glad that at least he wasn't running through the crowds of people like he had to in Atlanta. When he got to the luggage platform he waited with the rest of the passengers. As the bags started dropping in, landing on the conveyor belt and then sliding down on the rotating, lazy susan style carousel. He only had one bag that he had checked in. When it popped up, it was easy to spot. Once again, standard Army issue, that lovely shade of green, thick canvass duffel bag, his name and social security number stenciled, faded but still readable on the side. He grabbed it when it came around and hefted it up on his other shoulder.

At last he could get the hell out of the damn airports and airplanes. Hank was a well seasoned traveler but that didn't mean he had to like it. Maybe because he'd traveled so much, he was just tired of it. Like a lot of things in his life. Things that at first seemed thrilling, exciting. Now, he was just ready to be done with it. He quickened his pace, long legs striding to take him out the front doors of the airport. Once outside he paused for a moment, wondering if he should make a phone call.

Deciding against calling he figured he'd just head straight to the place. Hank had the address, it was some historical mansion that was turned into an Inn or a Bed and Breakfast or something. He could get to this place, check in, get some kind of sleep and deal with everything else in the morning. Hopping in one of the waiting cabs, Hank thought that would be a good idea.

Now that he was out of the airport, some of the weight already felt like it was lifting. He managed a smile for the cab driver, holding out a piece of paper that had the address of the place written on it.

"You know this place? That's where I need to go."

The cab driver nodded back in return.

"Sure, I know the place. Most people around these parts know it. I ain't never been inside there, but they say it's haunted."

With a bit of a smirk and a wink, the driver faced back front, turned the key in the ignition and started the engine, then pulled out into the traffic that would take them out of the airport area and onto the freeway.

"I'll get you there, mister."

Hank raised a brow at the man, processed that information and then shook his head and leaned back into the seat. He wasn't sure if the driver was joking or not. More than likely it was just a creative way to drum up tourist business. Though it was exactly why he was heading to this particular lodging area in the first place.

As he sat in the cab, he let his eyes close for a time. Now that he was relatively alone and had some quiet, he was able to think.

Even before Hank had been captured in Iraq. He had started to distance himself somewhat from his family. Over the years in the Army his job had gotten increasingly more secretive and more dangerous. It seemed all the missions he had run over that last few years were all leading up to that final one. How exactly do you explain to your parents and your own brother that somewhere along the line you got crazy enough to volunteer for a mission to get yourself taken as a POW by an enemy that was ruthless and had no problems beheading people on a regular basis. Was it just enough to say you were serving your country? That it was a matter of loyalty, honor? Now after Hank knew what he knew. His ideals about his government were not the same anymore. It had been a blow to Hank Mason.

The cornerstone of his life had been, duty, honor, country. Those words still meant something to him. In fact they still meant a whole lot to him. Now it was just a matter of who his duty was to, who he was loyal to and his country did not equate to the government and the huge business conglomerates that had a strangle hold on it.

For two years in a prison camp, if you could even call it that. It was a shit hole of a place, nothing like a prison or a camp in any sense of the words. For the most part he was kept isolated. Occasionally he would see another prisoner but it wasn't often. He spent two years being tortured and questioned. He never broke, he fed them the intel he was supposed to. Tidbits of mis-information that made his captors believe he was worth more alive than dead. Then the deadline for his supposed release had come and gone. What he didn't know, what he wouldn't find out until later was that he had been expendable. Scratch that, he knew he was expandable in a way, all soldiers were... but the fact was, he wasn't supposed to survive that mission.

There had been another person on the inside, an Iraqi. He had been a member of that particular cell and had cut a deal with the U.S. Government... AFTER Hank had been captured. The things about that camp and that faction of rebels that Hank was supposed to provide intel on, that son of a bitch gave it up. At least most of it. Hank's "superiors" and the people who had devised this mission in the first place didn't know the man wasn't telling the whole truth. Even though he ended up set for life in a cushy witness protection gig. Living the high life off the American government.

When that guy had gone over, Hank's mission was terminated. All assets deemed lost. Loose ends cut free and tied off. Hank had been on of those "assets". He knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what. Just that something had gone wrong. All he could do was hold on. Still he didn't succumb and give up anything. He started planning for an escape. A strange stroke of luck had occurred when another transient prisoner had seen Hank. That prisoner was transferred to another facility and taken off for execution somewhere. It was Hank's good fortune that the man was a Navy Seal and his unit had launched an all out rescue mission for their man. The man was able to let them know about Hank. Then they came in and with their help, he escaped. That was the quiet negotiations that got him released. No thanks to the U.S. Government bureaucracy, but he owed his life to a few brave men that took it upon themselves to make sure a fellow American military man got home. For that, Hank would be forever grateful.

THAT is now what he believed in. The duty, honor and loyalty of people. People who deserved it. That faced things they could have easily walked away from. Other people who didn't have the ability to help themselves and the people that Hank cared about. Those were where his loyalties lie now. Not that Hank would ever betray his country. Even though they in essence betrayed him. It just wasn't in him to do that. Though now, he no longer found he had that burning desire to put his life on the line for it either.

Hank opened his eyes when he felt the taxi slow down and turn into a very long driveway. Brought out of his thoughts. He looked around, taking in the sights of the estate. The cab driver stopped a little way off from the front door.

"That's as far as I go, buddy."

Shaking his head, Hank smiled at the man. He got out of the cab, hefting his bags onto his shoulders. Handing the driver some cash that included a generous tip. Appreciative that the man had sensed his need for quiet and not having engaged him in conversation the entire ride over.

"Thanks, man. No problem. I got it from here."

With a chuckle, Hank nodded and then turned and headed toward the door. His boots crunched on the ground before he hit the walkway. There was a light outside and a small sign that said 'Open While Under Renovation,' Hank wasn't sure but figured he might as well go on inside. Opening the door he stepped in and shut it again behind him. His eyes swept the area, taking it in for a moment before heading toward what looked to be the front desk. It was quiet and empty. Dropping his bags he leaned against the counter. Wondering what he should do now. The 'lobby' seemed to be an old sitting area. It at least seemed to be decently furnished. If all else failed, he could pass out on one of the sofas. He would deal with the fall out when it came.

"Hello? Anyone around? I'm not a burglar or ... a ghost or anything..."

He smirked throwing that last little comment in. Still wondering about what the cabbie had said and what he had learned in is own research. And for now, he just waited.

TAG: OPEN
WORDS: A LOT
NOTES: Someone come help Hank find a ghost!

THANKS ANNECORDELIA

[Julia Marx]

It had been a long time since she had been on a good old-fashioned ghost hunt.  Usually these days it was vampires, sometimes werewolves... occasionally a demon that required a simple trapping and exorcism.  But it was ghosts that Julia favored... maybe because she spent the majority of her time with one.  Maggie had her uses during any sort of hunt really, but hunting a spirit was where she really excelled.  Besides, a lot of times a ghost came with an interesting story, whereas the majority of monsters she faced were all bite or bleed, infect, rinse, repeat until a hunter came along and beheaded them or shot them up with silver.  

Julia had arrived at the bed and breakfast earlier that afternoon and had already settled in a room.  There were only six rooms available total and aside from herself, there were only two other rooms occupied:  one was a pair of college-aged guys who had obviously heard about the ghost story and had come to brave the place for the night... the other an elderly couple who either weren't aware of the haunting or they simply didn't care.  They had simply found the place charming and wanted to celebrate their wedding anniversary.

Julia had waited for the place to go quiet, for the other occupants to go to sleep and was now quietly creeping through the house looking for any signs or clues to support the story of the haunting.  She never bothered with EMF... Maggie's presence made that sort of thing completely useless.  Julia wasn't the most graceful human being on the planet, so it was my sheer luck that she didn't wake anyone up with her clumsy footsteps or every time she bumped her shoulder or hip against the wooden frame when she passed through an open door.

"Hello? Anyone around? I'm not a burglar or ... a ghost or anything..."

Julia found herself leaning against the door frame, a light smile playing at one corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down, taking in his appearance. "Aww, that's no fun," she said in a playful tone before pushing off and walking over to him, then nodding up toward the clock on the wall. "You're a little late for check-in, babe."