Benjamin Linus

With the flooding and stormy weather still in effect, Benjamin knew there was absolutely no way he'd get his cadillac down the backroad behind the Slough. Even on a good day, the massive ruts and tractor treaded road would just about shake his vehicle apart, and he'd be lucky to get a few yards down it. Instead of that, he relied on Hydra - his well trusted, if not slightly aloof and uppity, dapple mare.

Hydra tossed her head and laced her ears back now and then, not at all liking the mud and occasional shin-deep waters that she was forced to march through, but she went on dutifully enough. Further out of sight of Ben and his mount, Ethan and Tom were making a wide circuit around the shack, as backup in case anything went wrong.

Slowling his ride to a creeping walk, Benjamin moved past the footpath, favoring instead to guide Hydra through the dense, vine and bramble-choked growth alongside the more obvious trail. And when she was simply too big to go any further, Benjamin went the rest of the way on foot, keeping a steady hand near the sheathed pistol at his side. When at last he came into view of the dilapidated home, Benjamin crouched in the undergrowth and waited to see whether or not he'd get a glimpse of the man inside.

Michael

If you want to catch a fox - stake out a rabbit.

Exactly as Cassidy had described it over the phone, the shack Ben was left to peer at was a pitiful attempt at construction - this structure kept out the wind and sun, but in face of the major rain and flooding of the area, it was no match. The dilapidated porch had collapsed under a tree limb that had fallen, leaving the front door inaccessible. One window revealed a light - flickering, so it was obviously not electric - this was obviously a fire or lamp that the occupant had lit in an effort to drive out the dimness of the building. And if Ben snuck closer... he might see, through the window, the figure of the man he sought. He was stretched on his stomach before the weak, flickering fire - there was no furniture in the one-room building aside from a single, obviously handmade chair that leaned almost wearily against one wall.

The man sported a three-or-four day old beard, his face unwashed and his clothes unkempt - he was snoring softly, and no wonder... the room around him was strewn with liquor bottles, some intact and some laying in shards where he had obviously thrown them in inebriated lack of care. Aside from the beer bottles and the chair, Michael was the only thing in the building - and he, sound asleep, passed out from what had apparently been an overindulgence.

Benjamin Linus

Practicing caution, Benjamin waited for several minutes of quite observation, taking special note of the windows where a gun could so easily snake out from and shoot him when he revealed himself. After some time with no sound or movement coming from the broken home, aside from that one source of flickering light, Benjamin moved forward. Creeping along with the silence of a mouse, and using stealth that just seemed unlikely from a man like himself, Ben rounded on the one window where the flame was casting light through. Very, very slowly, he edged closer and peered in at an angle.

Once he confirmed the man's identity, Ben was circling around the back of the home to enter through that door, since he wasn't going to attempt to climb over the wreckage of the front porch. Holding his breath as he eased the door open, trying his best to avoid the creaks and whines that came with old hinges, the man stalked across the floor, slipping from one room to the next until he was faced with the slumbering Michael. Icy eyes narrowed by a shade as he got his gun out, and in a swift, decisive movement, Benjamin came around the side of his foe and gave a sharp kick to his ribs before taking a few safe steps backwards. When Michael woke, he'd find a pistol pointing at him.

Michael

To catch a killer - stake out a victim.

Ben needn't have used quite so much caution in entering the shack - very little in the way of noise, short of a nuclear explosion, could have woken the man from his drunken stupor. The room reeked of the pungent stench of alcohol and body odor - apparently, the man hadn't left this room in several days, which only lent to the squalor that he lived in.

But where neither the smell nor the noise could stir Michael, the sharp kick to his ribs had him waking with a grunt of pain and surprise, and rolling over to see who'd hit him, half-convinced he was dreaming or hallucinating. But the business-end of a pistol greeted his sights, and even completely trashed, the man knew the face that belonged to the cold eyes staring down at him. "Welllll.... 'bout time you showwwlwwedd up, Linnnnus," slurred the thicking, rumbling voice as he grinned stupidly up at the gun-bearing man, not even attempting to get up. "'m not usssedta... my surprissses goin'... unthanked." It was a hopelessly stupid comment, and he knew it - it was almost like he was trying to rile Ben further, with the reference to what he had done to Aralyn.

Benjamin Linus

The foul stench of the place would have had him wrinkling his nose in disgust, or scoffing at the deplorable state of living the man was surviving in, but he had one goal in mind and these petty things didn't reach him, "Consider this your last token of appreciation." Benjamin snarked back coldly, his face just as callous and frigid as the ice in his stare. He found the uncouth speech and reaction of Michael warrant enough for a quick bullet in the head, but that would not be justice for what the man had done to Aralyn. "Stand up Carlyle, if you have sense enough left for it."

Michael

Again that drunken grin highlighted the dark, scruffy features, apparently unafraid of the lethal glare he was receiving from Ben. "Why... so's you can tell yerself tha' you didn' kill the bastar' while 'e was lay'n on the floor? So's you can say ya shot 'im man ta man, I'll wager. Preserve the pride, then... keep it goin'." It took a couple of tries, but with one hand propped on the fireplace and a couple of giant heaves, the man managed to drag himself to his feet. And once there he face Ben squarely - Michael was a huge man, 6'4, broad-shouldered and thick waisted, with burly, muscled arms...and he towered over Ben, smiling down at him. "'sa good thin' ya came fer her when ya did... af'er all, she's right pret'y thin'... she coul' be a... helluva lota fun." That little slur was another bait - strangely enough, he was egging Ben on - almost daring him to shoot. And he knew that making such lewd suggestions in relation to Aralyn would get that result.

Benjamin Linus

The man's face grew a little more frigid, if that could be considered possible, and with a disdainful sneer, he replied to Michael's first comments, "You think too highly of yourself. If pride were the issue, I'd be just as satisfied shooting you in the back while you slept. But where's the fun in that?" Benjamin had his turn for an insult, but what dark humor he was gleaning from it all went out the window when Michael attacked him again - this time hitting a very sore spot. There were no words to go before his actions, only the slight tension set into his jaws as a precursor to his next move. With a quick pull of the trigger, Ben shot a round for the man's gut - and quiet honestly, he didn't care if he died on the spot, or whether he survived the trip to the Pit, to die in the lonely grave of others who'd crossed Ben's path.

Michael

The scream of a horse sounded outside - and it wasn't Hydra. This was Bishop, the huge black stallion that Michael had stolen from a house that had been abandoned, and had left tied outside - this was his access in and out of the woods. But Bishop was even taller and stronger than Hydra - there was no way he would have fit down the strangled path Ben had used - so there had to be another way out of here.

As the scream of the panicked horse sounded, burning pain sliced into Michael's middle and sent him for the floor - but he managed to catch himself on the fireplace, remaining half-upright with his free hand clutching painfully at the wound. He stood there panting for a moment, and then managed to gasp out, "Ahhhh... ha ha. I see I... underest'mated... how much you love 'er, eh?"

Benjamin Linus

The scream of the horse caught Benjamin by surprise, especially since he knew it wasn't Hydra who the noise had come from. Besides, it sounded from a different direction... Benjamin held the information at the side of his mind while he continued his confrontation with Michael, almost pleased that the man hadn't died right away. On the other hand, the drunken bravado his enemy was displaying was grating on Ben's nerves, particularly since they were directed at Aralyn, "Not that I expect you would understand a feeling more complex than animalistic lust." Not willing to let Michael get away with his verbal attack, Benjamin reigned in his control again and struck back in a deeply condescending tone. His gun was still trained on Michael as he reached for a walkie-talkie and radioed in to Tom and Ethan, "I've got him, and I'll need help transporting him to the site. Ethan, have your ropes ready; there's another horse here, and likely a second route to the house."

Michael

Now here was where a shift occurred in the conversation; before now, Ben had been the cold, calculated killer, and Michael filled with drunken bravado and daring. But now, the man sobered in a second, and his face turned from the stupid smile to a glare as cold as Ben's. "Don' un'erstan'...? Dam' you to all sev'n hells boy, if I don' un'erstan'. Yer precious Ar'lyn killed my Rayna... stabbed 'er dead right in fron' a me, all ta protec' tha' bastar' boy." He kicked viciously at a bottle near his feet, sending it flying to crash into splinters against the chair. "You wan' someone ta blame for what's happen'd ta yer girl? Look ta tha' bastar' yer protectin'."

Benjamin Linus

A twisted sort of grin rose on Benjamin's face, working past the bleak, killer expression that had been there, enhancing the fear factor as he showed sinister delight in hearing the man speak of a pain. "Who would have thought the monster has a bit of humanity left in him?" Benjamin didn't lower his gun as he waited for the others to arrive, but his stance slackened a little, almost mocking the fact that Michael was too plastered and wounded to be of threat to him any more, even considering the other man's towering stature compared to him. "Don't think that I'm not watching that son of yours, or Raimi. And trust me, as soon as he makes the wrong move, he will be joining you." The grin lifted a little, not enough to reveal teeth, but enough to cast his expressive eyes into a slight squint of pleasure, "You had your chance at being a father, and you failed."

Michael

The horse's scream sounded again, and the bang of hooves sounded with a smack against mud. Bishop's eyes were rolling wildly, responding both to the gunshot and the smell of blood. But back in the shack, Michael's face turned into a grin again, abruptly dismissing the pain that his mind was too compromised to hold onto for long. "No' my las' chanssss... there's still one more... an' she's startin' ta show alrea'y. If'n she don't abort it or die in the deliv'ry, I'll be a father ag'in. But she's scrawny 'nuff... like yer precious Ar'lyn there... labor mi't jes kill a tiny thin' like tha'."

Benjamin Linus

"You know, it's funny..." Benjamin spoke in a falsely whimsical sort of manner, "Your own son and the mother of your unborn child both came to me to see you murdered. Fate has a funny way of working things out, doesn't it?" The gun was lowered and resheathed as casually as could be, with him paying no heed to the way that Michael was trying to get at him. Ben was in full control again, and nothing his enemy said was going to rattle him now, "Good night, Michael." At that precise moment, Tom was swinging the butt end of his riffle for Mr. Carlyle's head, having snuck around behind the withered, drunken man while he and Ben were sparring. If Michael were unfortunate to wake up before his wound killed him, he find himself at the bottom of a deep pit, with a few dozen skeletons to keep him company for his last few hours.

Michael

"Awww... now ain't tha' sweet..." That was Michael's grinning drawl to answer Ben's attempting taunt. It was unclear whether he truly didn't care that the two had teamed up to see him killed - or whether he wasn't with it enough to truly give it any deep thought. But it didn't matter - the was a brief, sharp pain at the back of his head, and then the man crumpled to the floor, consumed by darkness, leaving his smart-aleck comment the last words he would speak to another living being.