Chapter Text
Kane has been waiting, he never waits, if someone doesn’t appear on time, he usually would send the guards after them and solve the problem, but this was extraordinary circumstances. He was feeling charitable and decided to give it a few more minutes.
It’s a warm night in Austin, thick waves of wind sweep across his arms like the teasing touch of a woman - or man, he’s never been that picky. The stars are bright, and the moon is large and almost blindingly silver but Kane doesn’t care much of Earth’s natural treasures, he only cares for the supernatural treasures.
In the distance on the deserted beaten off track there is gravel crunching as wheels slowly roll an old rusty car towards Kane. When the short, weak, unshaven and generally mediocre man climbs out of his car Kane looks at him, eyes burning, power in his stance, arms crossed over his chest with Carlson kneeling beside him, head bowed.
The man looks up at Kane with fear in his eyes.
“You are late.” He says, straightening his shoulders and narrowing his eyes.
The peasant stammers for a moment, “M – my apologies, I’m really very sorry, I had trouble –”
Kane raises his hand silencing the man; he doesn’t worry himself about this peasant’s lousy excuses. He is looking for one thing and one thing only, “You have it then?”
A small smile pulls at the corner of the man’s mouth, “I had to dispose of some bodies but I got it!”
Opening his hand in a smooth movement, Kane gestures for the item to be handed over.
The man reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and then Kane sees it, a few pieces of paper folded into tight little squares held between the man’s index and thumb.
“You know that if you are lying to me,” Kane threatens low, barely above a whisper. “If you’re giving me false information I will have my guards find you and you will experience true pain.” Kane’s eyebrow quirks up as he warns with a snarl. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours, my guards can make you disappear with my say-so.”
The man’s eyes bulge and Kane leans forward slightly, scanning the mans face for any hint of disloyalty; he can practically smell his anxiety, the ripe, stale scent piercing his senses.
“I – It’s true. I – I swear!”
The feeling of success is almost overwhelming. “Well, hand it over.” Kane insists, his hand moving to grab the information tucked away between the folds of the notepaper.
“Uh-uh-uh… First, I want my payment.” The imbecile says quickly, a sudden change in body language and tone, an air of smugness to him as he pulls his hand away, as if he had any authority here. Anger boils underneath Kane’s skin, through his blood and he can taste it, bitter, on his tongue.
“Your job is only half done, my friend.” Kane retorts through gritted teeth.
“Wha –?”
Kane reaches into his pocket pulls out a wad of cash out showing it to the current pain in his ass. Pulling one bill out, Kane throws it onto the ground.
The man scrambles for it before the wind can steal it away, Kane always preferred working with the lower class. They were so desperate to make ends meet that they would almost risk their life for a humiliatingly small cost. A cloud of dust rises and when he stills the dirt settles on his clothes and shoes. Kane looks down at his previously pristine shoes and flares his noses with a grimace. Before he can motion for something to be done about it Carlson is quickly licking his hand and cleaning the dirt off.
“You will get the rest once you’ve finished the job. Completely.”
Kane surges forward using his advantage in height and muscle against the flimsy man, his forearm is strong and unmoving against the other man’s throat holding him against his very expensive car. “Give Me. The Information.” Kane growls, bare millimetres away from his victim’s face.
The man is gasping, body completely rigid with fear as he offers the crinkled paper to Kane who quickly snatches it from his grip, triumph rippling through his veins as he throws the man to the ground before brushing the lapels of his suit and climbing into his car. Carlson is close behind jumping in the drivers seat with his master next to him in the passengers seat.
Kane programs the directions into the GPS and once he is ready, he nods to Carlson signalling he is ready to move. Keys in the ignition, headlights on highlighting his path, Kane rolls down his window resting his elbow on the frame and smiles sarcastically at the man who is has barely gotten back onto his feet.
Kane huffs, amused, “I’m sorry.” The fake-sympathetic tone obviously stuns the man who looks back at him with unease. “It just occurred to me that I haven’t asked for your name,” Kane scoffs, “How rude of me.”
The man’s forehead creases before he stutters out, “Gr – Gregory.”
“Well… Greg, can I call you Greg?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I would be quick, if I were you. If you don’t finish the job that you were hired for, then you will not get your full payment and I will organize a little meet and greet for you and my guards.” Kane slips a cigarette in between his lips, holding his hand around the tip to protect the fire from the wind and lighting it up. The smoke soothes his mind and he smiles one last time at Greg, “They’re nice guys, unless you’ve pissed me off.”
Pulling the cigarette from between his lips and blowing blue-grey smoke into the night air, Carlson reverses the sleek black car down the path and disappears.
It takes roughly six hours of driving through small barely populated towns before reaching the cleverly hidden, surprisingly large warehouse, nestled behind and between large trees, keeping it from view of passers-by.
When Kane had found out about this place it interested him immediately. Things that you could never imagine, dream of, even begin to comprehend was secured here. But the location was so concealed that no such place was supposed to exist. The contents of the warehouse have never been uncovered as the owner was killed when a group of people from the black market became fed up with his resistance. Kane hired the best of the best to find it and apparently the most desperate are willing to do a lot of footwork amongst some of the most unsavory of people for a surprisingly small amount of money.
Kane always accounts for things going wrong, so while he sits in his car waiting for Greg to catch up he quickly copies down the instructions to get into the warehouse onto a notepad and by the time he is finished the man has been standing stock still for almost five minutes.
“Read the instructions, do exactly as they say and should have no trouble.” Kane opens the passengers side door, and swings both legs out, sitting on the seat sideways, passing the copied instructions to Greg and the asshole doesn’t move just stares, wide-eyed back to him.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Kane says condescendingly, leaning sideways against the back of the car seat. “Go on.” Kane lifts his expensive leather boot and nudges the man’s legs toward the building.
Greg stumbles toward the large warehouse almost tip-toeing, carefully and slowly.
Kane rolls his eyes, “Tick tock goes the clock!” He sing-songs loudly, “I will shove my boot up your ass, boy, if you don’t hurry the fuck up!” the sudden loud voice makes Greg visibly jump and Kane chuckles. He stands up out of the car, watching from a safe enough distance, leaning on the bonnet of his car, picking another cigarette out of the packet.
Almost entranced by the way the smoke curls and dances and fades, Kane breathes in deeply loving the contrast of thin pure air and the thick taste of tobacco. His heart almost gives out when an ear-piercing alarm sounds from the warehouse.
As expected the doors lock and Kane can hear the hurried, frantic pounding on the door as Greg is locked inside until the cops come. Who knows what’ll happen to the little shit, he doesn’t really care, his true goal for tonight’s adventure was to find the warehouse and see what security it had been laced with so that he could have a more fool-proof attempt next time. Greg was basically just an experimental guinea pig.
“Whoops, must have copied the instructions down wrong.” Kane says to Carlson as he opens the driver’s side door, chuckling as he quickly deserts Greg and makes his quick escape back to the Governor Morgan’s mansion without being caught.
Kane knew that for the next round, he needed someone that no one would notice if they disappeared for good, if it was to go wrong again. Its not like the cops are going to believe old Greg if he did try to dob in Christian Kane, the Governor of Texas’s right-hand man. He’ll probably be given extra time just for making up such an offensive story.