Tank's Revenge Ch. 01

June 7th, 1996

Mark "The Tank" Lawson walked across the stage to receive his high school diploma with his classmates. His family cheering in the stands, as he raised his hand in the air making a fist. As he took his seat, waiting for the remaining students to receive their diplomas, and the speeches to conclude, he reminisced about his life so far. His mother and father raising him on the rural farm just outside of town. There he learned to tend to crops, as well as cows, chickens, and horses. He loved the farm life but felt called for something else.

Both of his parents thought they could not have children and finally did when his dad was thirty-eight and his mom was thirty-seven. His sister was the first born, then surprisingly he was born four years later. His father had worked on the farm since he was a kid, so he expected the same from Mark. Being raised by his mother and father were not horrible, nor were they great. He was loved, but he was disciplined and sometimes not justly, at least he felt. His mother made him go to church every Sunday while his father popped the cork every evening when he returned from the fields until he passed out drunk.

Mark's sister was as different than Mark, some said they were like fire and ice. Amanda Lawson was about 5'9 and medium built like their mother. She was not athletic, was not fat, but had curves in all the right places. She was pretty, she knew it and flaunted it. During her high school days, she completely ignored Mark, and their relationship drifted. With his schoolwork, football and trying to please his father around the farm, he really didn't care what she did. That was until his senior year when she announced she was pregnant, saying the father had ran off once he knew she was knocked up. For the remaining part of his senior year, Brad helped with his nephew as much as he could, loving him like it was his own.

Football was his passion, and he was always the tallest, bulkiest, and meanest person on the team, where he played fullback and middle linebacker. One of the opposing coaches described Mark as a tank to a local newspaper, hence the nickname. During his sophomore year, Mark had a growth spurt of five inches and now stood at 6'4. With working at the farm in the evenings, and the constant training for football, his body was muscular, but not body builder type. One of the cheerleaders said he looked so much like Channing Tatum with darker hair. That same cheerleader was his girlfriend during his last two years in school.

As his thoughts came back to the present, he smiled as the valedictorian wrapping up his speech, waiting for all the pomp and circumstance to end. While the crowd applauded the young scholar, he sat, and the school principal came up and declared them graduates. Mark joined in as he threw his hat in the air, seeking out his parents to celebrate. He hugged them as his older sister and her son smiled at him as well. As he hugged his father, he felt him go limp. Grabbing him, looking down his father grasped at his heart, panic in his mothers' face. His sister had a look of angst on her face as her hand covered her mouth. He knew they were crying, maybe screaming, but all he could hear was silence as he laid his father on the ground.

************

September 20th, 1998

Through his scope, he could see the man with the AK walking around the top of the roof. He was waiting for the command to execute the operation, as his finger rested on the trigger. He was used to the silence of the night except the occasional check from his teammates or animal sounds in the distance. Often, he wondered if he should have stayed on that country farm after his dad died and took over the farm. Maybe he should not have let his older sister talk his mom in selling it and taking her to Panama City. His sister blamed him for their father's death that fateful sunny day, and nothing could be done to tell her otherwise.

He felt himself close his eyes for a moment as he remembered the look on his moms and his nephews faces at the cemetery, standing across from him on the other side of the casket. He had a scholarship to go to college, and was planning to do so, but the following day he signed up at the local recruitment office.

'Bravo 6, this is Bravo 1. We are in position, mark 30 seconds and engage....... Mark.' He looked at his watch and answered with mark in an audible whisper. His finger tensed on the trigger as his target came back around to the front of the building. His job was very easy, he was the protector over his teammates. He heard in his ear....'Go go go go!' Without hesitation, the shot was off, and in his scope, he witnessed the man's head explode as his body fell in a heap on the roof. Gun fire erupted inside the structure, as flashes were going off inside. Hearing commands in his ear from his team leader, he watched over the grounds and took out anyone coming to the aid of those inside. In the end it was another successful mission for Bravo team. Mark drew in a hard breath, wishing that the mental and emotional pain for him would end someday.

**********

January 27th, 2001

Denton Texas is always a nice place to be when the rest of the country seems to be miserably cold and snowy. Patton, team leader of Bravo finally got married, and the entire team joined in the festivities. The ceremony was amazing, and the bride was beautiful. Sandra was the epitome of perfection. She and Patton had met in Kuwait when he was injured during an op, while she was a nurse, and still is living in her hometown of Denton. Patton was on the fence about leaving the military to grow roots. The entire team knew that this woman had her claws and something else deeply embedded in him for Patton to think about leaving the team.

Mark's eyes went to one of the bridesmaids whose beauty was evenly matched to Sandra's, but with more exotic features. She had caramel skin, brown eyes, black hair flowing down her back, passing down her bottom. Her breasts were handfuls, and her backside had a nice pop in it. What caught his eyes was her smile. Those thin lips, widening across her face, exposing the pearly white teeth. Her light pink tongue lightly sticking out sometimes as she giggled at something that was being said. The only thing that brought him out of his trance was someone elbowing him while standing up as the wedding couple kissed.

At the reception, all the guys were sitting toward the middle of the room, some with wives and girlfriends of their own. Mark remaining the only single team member of the bunch. Patton tried to change his nickname from 'Tank' to Playboy, but Mark would not have it. He just wasn't happy with himself; how could he make anyone else happy. One-night stands is all he knew, and he hadn't had any of those in quite a while.

Throughout dinner, the alcohol flowed, and the stories were being thrown around the table just as fast. Mark's eyes kept going to that beautiful smile he noticed at the ceremony. He would look to see if there was any inclination that she was attached or there on a date; looking at her ring finger, watching who she was talking to. He almost felt like a stalker, so he tried to get into the conversation around the table, but he was so mesmerized with the way she carried herself. A few times he had been caught looking at her and tried glancing away, only to look back and see her smiling at him.

After dinner, the DJ asked the wedding couple to the dance floor for the traditional first dance, following with everyone joining them. Mark sat at the table looking into his glass as he sipped the drink. He was about to take another drink when a hand lightly squeezed his shoulder. "I was sure you would ask me to dance. Unless it was someone else you been looking at?"

Mark sat his glass down, and without turning around, stood up. Slowly turning his entire body, he came face to face with that wonderful woman behind that beautiful smile. "Well I was assuming someone as beautiful as you had a date." He took her hand, bowed at her like royalty while saying, "Pardon me for the assumption, would you like to dance?" She laughed and took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

For the first minute they just looked at each other almost sizing one another up. She finally spoke, "Are you the shy type? Because I would never have thought that with your profession and all."

Mark was smiling, "No, I am not shy, just usually not talkative. I apologize, my name is Mark."

"Maria," she smiled, "You dance very well for a grunt."

"A grunt!" Mark almost stopped dancing. "That is what they call the infantry, I'm not that kind of soldier."

Maria started giggling, "Military men are all the same, ego's the size of Texas."

"What? I resemble that remark." Mark said smiling.

Maria laughed and moved closer into him as another slow song came on. They wrapped their arms around each other, her head lying against his chest, his hands on her hips. She smelled of mango and he was lost in the fragrance and her beauty. She raised her head and with a matter of fact tone stated, "I'm sorry Mark, but I don't date military men. My dad was one, and my mom told me never to get attached to them, they never come home."

"We can be friends, right?" Mark asked. "It would be a shame to let this night end with such a beautiful woman in my arms that I wouldn't be able to speak to again."

Maria laid her head back on his chest, and could feel his heart beating faster, "Sure, friends it is," she whispered.

**************

May 24th, 2003

Patton straightened Mark's tie as the young man started sweating in the cool room. "Mark, take it easy man; this is just like any other mission. You've got this."

Mark was not sure, after all he thought he made a commitment to the military, but this was so much different. Patton had still been his team lead, marriage didn't change him, but would it change Mark. His thoughts went to the night he told Maria he was not going to re-enlist because he wanted to marry her. He remembered the look on her face as she cried. She was upset that he had decided that without talking to her. She never wanted him to leave something he was so passionate about because of her. He remembered the fight they had and how miserable he was for the two weeks they didn't talk.

A man walked in and tapped Patton on the shoulder, "Five minutes."

Patton looked at his friend and former teammate. "Hey Mark," This was the first time he had called him Mark. "Look at me. You love her, I know. You have the same look in your eyes as I have with Sandra. She loves you and you will do great together. Let's get you married, so you can get to fucking and have some babies." Mark smiled and let Patton walk him out the door.

Maria was letting her mom and Maid of Honor finish their final touches on her veil, as she thought back to the first time they had met. Mark had been a perfect gentleman, but she was always told by her mother never to marry a military man. Her father was in the military, and while she was still in her mother's womb, he was killed in a training exercise. She did everything she could not to fall in love with this man, but he was everything she had ever wanted. He was loyal, dedicated, honest, and he was a genuine person, who really cared about her, unlike most men she had dated in the past. He never pressured her into sex, and it had been six months before they were slightly intimate, and eight months before they had sex.

The wife of the Pastor came into the room and told her they were ready whenever she was, so she turned to her mom and her best friend, Sandra and nodded her head. Walking to the front of the closed doors to the cathedral, her mother clasped her hand onto hers and whispered, "I love you sweetheart, I hope you are very happy in your future."

The doors opened and in walked Maria, his beautiful wife to be. The sunlight through the pane glass windows streaming onto her like the heavens, making her look like an angel. Patton tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a handkerchief as he noticed Mark was tearing up. As they came together holding hands, words were exchanged, rings were given to each other, but nothing was noticed around them but each other. Nothing had their attention except the other. Both knew in their heart this was the right choice for them, and their future was going to be so bright.

**********

July 1st, 2018

Houston Texas -- 0600

"Where are your friends? I am a patient person, but this waiting around only causes me to think you are going to pull something on me."

Mark looked at him through slit eye lids., watching the men to his left and right. His CI was correct about the man in front of him, and to say he was a little worried about this operation would be an understatement. "Woah my friend, they will be here. Just give them five minutes. If they aren't here, leave. Its only my loss, not yours."

The tall bald man snarled, "Oh you think! My time is wasting this early in the morning when I could be fucking my wife, or her sister." A few of his men snickered, but he didn't laugh catching them all off guard.

At that moment, a box truck pulled into the deserted lot, directly behind Mark and his CI. Out came two large men, one Hispanic and one white. "Hey boss, sorry were late." Asked the Hispanic man.

Mark asked where they been when the white guy spoke up. "Sorry boss, that was my fault, I forgot to fuel the truck, and we had to stop."

Mark and his Ci asked the bald man if he wanted to check the product or what. He motioned for three of his men to go to the back of the truck. They opened a box and took out some pineapple, where underneath were bags of white powder. One of the men stuck a knife blade in the bag, brought some out and tasted it. "It's good boss," he shouted.

The bald guy walked up to Mark and threw a bag on the ground in front of him. "Seems we have a deal after all. Hope to do business again."

Mark and his three companions grabbed the bag, jumped in their Charger and pulled out of the parking lot. As soon as they rounded the corner, Mark was on the radio to the command center. "It's a go. Take them down guys." Sirens were heard and dozens of police, FBI and DEA vehicles surrounded the parking lot, along with a helicopter overhead. All were arrested with no casualties, another good day for Mark.

Back at the Houston office, he was ecstatic, but also anxious about getting back to his family. Maria and the kids were waiting on him to get home so they could head out for their vacation, and he still had to drive to Dallas before they could leave. With many pats on the back, Mark headed to his car and drove onto the interstate, as his mind went to his family.

Maria was still as beautiful and vibrant as the day he met her. Even with two children, she remained young, fit and beautiful. Their daughter, Alexandria just a teen in her sophomore year of high school, and looked so much like her mother was doing well in school, being involved in soccer, hoping to play on the U.S. women's soccer team. His son, Randy would be a first-year student finally after vacation and was a splitting image of himself. Mark could not be prouder of either of his kids, loved and adored both as much as his wife.

Since being in the FBI, Mark had been working mainly out of the Dallas office helping the local law enforcement with gangs, drugs, and anything else they needed. The DEA had just asked him to do a few undercover missions that Maria was never comfortable with. Mark was hanging the undercover work up this being the last. He decided he was going to start working in cyber-crimes instead so he could be home every day with his family. He was to start in two weeks when they arrived back from their vacation.

Still being about two hours from the house, Mark decided to call Maria. The phone rang many times, so he left a voicemail letting her know he was on his way and to give him a call. He figured she was still in bed or maybe in the shower, and she would call him as soon as she could. He texted his kids as well, telling them to get up and get ready.

As he was entering the outskirts of the Dallas/Fort Worth area, Mark was worried. He had not heard from his children or his wife, and it had been two hours. Something was off about all this, and he was in a slight panic. He called a friend of his who lived two streets over to go over and knock on the door for him. When they did there were no answer nor no lights or activity in the house. He also reported it looked like one of his downstairs windows might have been broken.

Mark told him to hang up and call the police, while Mark called the bureau. Stella answered the phone chipper as she always was. "FBI, Agent Dawson speaking."

"Stella, it's Mark, I need anyone, everyone at my house. I think something is wrong. I can't reach my family, and my neighbor is saying it looks like a break in might have occurred!"

Stella was silent for a second trying to understand everything that was going on. "Mark, it's only me and Reynolds here right now, we're on our way. I'll call you when I get there ok?"

Mark didn't answer he just hung up the phone, mashing the pedal on his Tahoe, hearing the engine roaring to life, the speedometer creeping upward. His thoughts were all over the place, hoping he was wrong. Maybe they were just out somewhere and had their phones turned off. Maybe they were still asleep, and someone did break into the house and stole their phones.

Thirty minutes later, Mark turned onto Daniel Ave where his house sat across from the park. His heart sank down into the pit of his stomach as his Tahoe came to a complete stop. Police cars lined both sides of the street, with yellow crime scene tape surrounding his entire yard. He noticed Reynolds walking over to him, he even heard him saying something, but it never registered as he climbed out of his vehicle and started walking toward his home.

Police officers who knew him couldn't look at him, some were even crying, or looked sick to their stomachs. Only Reynolds and the Captain of the local police force were striding beside Mark trying to stop him from entering his home. He pushed his way into the front door and could smell the familiar odor of blood. No tears, no emotion showed in his face. He noticed Stella talking to a crime tech in the center of the room, so he approached her.

"Where are they?" He asked. When she turned and didn't say anything instead looking past him to the other two men who tried stopping him. "Don't look at them, you know they couldn't have stopped me if they wanted too. Tell me now, or I will tear this place upside down."

Stella's face was pale, but she quietly answered. "You don't want to see what happened Mark. I promise you; we will find who done this. Trust me ok." He glared at her, while turning quickly taking the stairs two steps at a time toward the second floor. As he reached the first bedroom, which was his sons, he found a tech taking pictures. His son still laying there, blood spray on the wall behind him. Looking around the room, he noticed nothing out of place, nor anything stolen. His fist clenched, wanting to hit something, he fought the tears back as he looked to the next door.

He went to his daughters' room, finding a similar scene. His blood boiled, angry at himself, he didn't protect his family. His baby girl gone, and for what? He looked at the crime tech and looked over the room, noticing nothing had been touched. He turned and stepped into the hallway, making his way down to another corridor.

By the time he approached his and Marias room, a tall burly police officer stood in front of him. "Sir, I have to ask you to stay out of this room." Without saying anything, Mark took him by the shoulder, kneed him sending him down to the floor. As he entered his room, his lovely bride was lying on the bed. There weren't any bullet holes, but he couldn't recognize her face. Someone had beaten her to death. Both of her eyes were swollen shut, her jaw broken, and her black hair so blood soaked it was purplish. He also noticed handprints and an electric cord wrapped around her neck.