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Scene Title | Not This Time |
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Synopsis | Kain Zarek has a crisis of conscience that has him trying to undo all the damage that Cardinal and the Endgame have done to the Linderman Group. But there was only ever one way this was going to end… |
Date | November 8, 2010 |
Were the Devil to reign in Hell, this may be his vista.
Standing at the edge of a window larger than his field of vision, Kain Zarek is afforded a muted reflection of his own, tired face in the glass lit by the orange glow on the horizon. Staring out from the window, he can see lower Manhattan sprawling before him, thin tendrils of smoke rising up from the streets.
Beyond, across the East river, there lies a conflagration on the horizon, a swallowing storm of cinder and smoke choking black up into the cloudy skies. A fire rages uncontrollable through the great borough, gutting it like a knife guts flesh, letting it bleed dry where smoke should be blood.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Kain sees another man reflected in the glass of the window, half shadowed by Kain's silhouette, half lit by the fiery glow. "Ya'll got'cher wish…" the Cajun breathes out in solemn quality, turning his back to the window and settling his eyes on Richard Cardinal, "but it ain't much of a world left t'rule, now is it?"
The gun in Kain's hand is heavy, a weighty thing that clunks against his thigh before leveling up towards the shadow-morph. Swallowing tightly, his brows furrow and lips downturn into a frown, and the hammer of the revolver is clicked back and the cylinder spins; he can see the brassy finish of each .45 shell rotating to a clicked stop.
"This is all your fault," Kain mumbles, eyes welling up with tears. Behind Kain, the sound of helicopters roar as US Air Force troop deployment helicopters roar past on the nearby horizon, floodlights shining down to the streets, cinders and embers kicked up to the window of the Linderman Building's head office.
"Congratulations, Dicky— " Kain offers in a growl, the heavy Colt .45 trembling in his hand, "You murdered yourself a future."
Five Minutes Earlier
The Linderman Building
The chime of an elevator announces the arrival of Kain Zarek into the quiet administrative floor of the Linderman Building's black-marble hallways. His worn old cowboy boots clack against the polished floor underfoot, passing by a secretary's desk as she begins to jolt up from her seat. "M— Mister Zarek, you can't— Daniel isn't taking any meetings right now!"
Turning towards the secretary, Kain fixes her with a blue-eyed stare. "You best better be callin' security then, sugar-tits, 'cause unless you wanna try'n stop me, Ah'm goin' in." He jerks his head towards the double doors to Linderman's office, then flicks a look back to the bespectacled woman as she backs down.
Her eyes are wide, worry painted across her face. When Kain offers a derisive snort under his breath in response, he turns his back on her and storms towards the office doors, pushing them open on double hinges even as the secretary is calling down to security.
"Danny!" Kain bellows as he steps into the spacious office, viewing the eastern horizon out floor-to-ceiling windows behind Linderman's glossy black desk.
Kain's dark silhouette is back-lit by the light of fires in the distance, once that give him pause. His back stiffens, breath hitches in his throat and his shadow is cast long and black against the polished marble floor.
Daniel Linderman isn't home.
Cowboy boots click softly across the floor as Kain makes his way over to the desk, looking down to the paperwork left on the top, fingers leafing through the documents before walking towards the window. Kain stands, silently, his back to the rest of the office as he views the glow of the Queens fires raging in the dark of night, choking fingers of smoke grasping at clouded skies.
Richard Cardinal has been putting his appointment with the future off all day. There are some things, however, that you can't avoid forever… and he knows this is one of them. Nobody sees the shadow as it slips through the offices, nobody shouts a challenge or calls for security.
Nobody even sees him until his visage is reflected dimly in the window in front of Kain Zarek. It could be anyone at a glance, clad in Horizon combat armor from head to toe, helmet closed and sealed, but they both know who it is.
"Why?" A simple question. Quiet. He knows.
Kain doesn't turn around as he hears the voice crackle over the helmet's speakers, but he does shut his eyes. "You were the wrong man," Kain offers in a low tone of voice, mistaking Cardinal's question for the more obvious. "Ah' was wrong t'let you talk me inta' doin' this. Talk me inta' takin' Danny out. He may be a righteous bastard, Daniel Linderman, but Ah' don't see you as any better chance of a future."
His hands curl slowly at his sides, fingers winding shut into tight fists. "This world doesn't need people like us in charge'a it. Yer no better than Danny is, but at least he's been at this longer'n you have, he could keep things under control. You couldn't even stop this from happenin'."
Kain's voice tightens. "Crisis of conscience. I'm sidin' with the lesser'a two evils. Soon as Danny gets here, Ah'm tellin' him everythin." Kain swallows, tightly. "We can still stop this. Make it right. You ain't th' right choice… Ah' can see that now."
Richard shakes his head slowly, a sigh unheard against the faceplate of his helmet. "No, Kain… he can't. There's nothing in this world that could save Linderman now. If you'd kept the faith, we could've at least held the city against the other families. We could've minimized the damage."
"The Linderman Group is falling, Kain. Only now there isn't going to be anyone to catch it."
He walks slowly to the side of the desk, turning his head to look over the papers. "What did I ever do to you, Kain? I trusted you, as much as anyone. I might not have been able to move mountains… not this time… but I did my best. You could've made a life you could be proud of. You could've helped us clean up this mess…"
"Wasn't ever about what you did, was about how you did it. You only trusted me as much as you needed to, an' you only needed me because'a what some locos said about some future that can't even happen no more. Ah' thought you was different, but you're obsessed, you ain't a normal person. You get these ideas in your head, about changin' things, about controllin' what can't be controlled, and you twist up whoever you damn well want around your finger without any care in'a god-damn world about what happens t'them."
Kain's forehead comes to touch the glass of the window, his brows furrowing shut. "Guess this means it's a lose-lose situation then, an' Ah guess that means there really ain't no salvagin' this. But it doesn't mean Ah' gotta hand over th' future t'someone like you. Ah' ain't gonna just…" Kain's upper lip curls.
"You're a schemer, Richard. You plotted all this killin' futures nonsense, talkin' bout how we could change the world. Ah' was on yer side, all'a way up until Ah' realized there weren't no change comin'."
Kain lifts his head, looks out over the burning skyline, his own reflection muted in the glass. "Ah' don't want mah girl growin' up in a world run by you. Ah've spent mah whole life bein' someone else's go to for dirty deeds. That ain't me no more, when this is all over, Ah'm out. Ah'm done."
But it's clear Kain intends to take out one more person on the way down.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Kain sees Cardinal in the glass of the window, half shadowed by Kain's silhouette, half lit by the fiery glow. "Ya'll got'cher wish…" the Cajun breathes out in solemn quality, turning his back to the window and settling his eyes on Richard Cardinal's armored form, "but it ain't much of a world left t'rule, now is it?"
The gun in Kain's hand is heavy, a weighty thing that clunks against his thigh before leveling up towards the shadow-morph. Swallowing tightly, his brows furrow and lips downturn into a frown, and the hammer of the revolver is clicked back and the cylinder spins; he can see the brassy finish of each .45 shell rotating to a clicked stop.
"This is all your fault," Kain mumbles, eyes welling up with tears. Behind Kain, the sound of helicopters roar as US Air Force troop deployment helicopters roar past on the nearby horizon, floodlights shining down to the streets, cinders and embers kicked up to the window of the Linderman Building's head office.
"Congratulations, Dicky— " Kain offers in a growl, the heavy Colt .45 trembling in his hand, "You murdered yourself a future."
There will be no Zarek Group, no revivification of Staten Island.
Richard murdered a future in Kain's eyes, by tainting it with his own manipulative fingers.
Now Kain is going to return the favor.
And murder Richard's future.
"I never wanted to rule the world, Kain," says Cardinal quietly, regretfully, "That's what you never understood. I've just been looking for people who can… I thought you would be one of them. I was just going to hand the reins to you and walk away. Change doesn't come quickly, but I guess you've never been a patient man."
The gun is ignored. Garbed from head to toe in some of the best defensive technology the world has to offer, he's fairly certain that in Kain's shaky hand it's no real threat.
He spreads his hands to either side, admitting, "Maybe you're right, though. Given a few more years… a few more failures… a few more betrayals… maybe I would try to be the man on the top. But I've met that man, and I don't like who he is."
Silence, for a moment, and then he asks, "How much did you tell John, Kain? Are the others at risk too? I hope you're enough of a man that you kept this between the two of us."
The hammer on Kain's gun clicks back slowly, brows furrowed. "John's seen th' paintin'. He knows what's comin', knew what we were doin'. Ah' told him everything. S'how Ah' got him and Robbie on mah side, how Ah' controled the goddamned flow of Chinks and drugs comin' in and outta' th' city, how Ah' negotiated with ol' Giddy-up Buttercup and his little snake daughter."
Tongue pressing against the side of his cheek, Kain breathes in deeply and slowly. "John ain't never trusted you either, an' Ah' know he'd sell me out up the river for five dollars an' a blowjob, but Ah' still trust him more'n Ah' trust you. At least Ah' know where he stands, Ah' know how far he'd go, what he'd do."
Kain's head shakes slowly. "Ah' don't know you, Richard. Yer a goddamned ghost. Stint at Rikers, then nothin'. Ah' did mah homework on you, an' there ain't a whole lot that says you ever even existed before they gone and chucked you in that prison. Birth certificate, driver's license, prison record."
Kain's brows crease together slowly. "That don't sound like a man, that sounds like a lie."
"It's not… well." Cardinal actually pauses, "It isn't a lie as far as I know. Maybe I should look into that. I might as well go back to the beginning anyway…"
He closes his eyes briefly behind the helmet, "You told him everything? So you're willing to sacrifice Pey… Nichols… all of them? I really was wrong about you, Kain. It was my fault, really. I saw the man you could've been… not the man you are."
"Ah'm a cold blooded killer," Kain corrects Cardinal's world-view, "been a killer since th' day Ah' was born, been a killer all th' way up to t'day." Dark brows furrow, and Kain's gun hand steadies as his lips sag into a frown. "Ah' only got one more life t'end, an' then Ah' ain't gonna be that man no more." Though Kain doesn't specify which life it is.
"This wasn't gonna end any other way," Kain states flatly, swallowing the lump down in his throat.
"But poorly."
The sound of a gun going off rings off of the windows like a peal of thunder.
The forty-five slug cuts through the air at supersonic speeds, slamming directly into the chest of Richard Cardinal… the magnetorheological fluid stiffening to a rigidity that the bullet can't pierce even faster than the bullet can penetrate, the impact sending the Red King stumbling back a full step.
He grunts, one hand coming up to rub against the bruise that's forming beneath the armour. "Ow."
His hand splays to one side, and tendrils of shadow slither over his fingers, tracing through the air and thickening into the shadow of a gun, a shadow that becomes truth. The Stechkin's hammer is drawn back without even so much as a click, a tiny red dot appearing between the other man's eyes from the integral laser sight.
"I'm sorry, Kain," he says quietly, "I tried to save you."
From outside the Linderman building, the flash of the last gunshot lightens the tinted windows, along with a spray of red against the glass, drooling down the panes. Smoke rises up on the horizon, and the passage of helicopters in the air has long since gone by. Smoke, cinders and ash are carried on a westwardly wind towards Manhattan from Queens, a fire burning so bright and so hot that it may yet burn for weeks to come.
There is no more light inside of Daniel Linderman's office, just silence and shadows and the stain of blood on the glass window that ends the story of a con man born in the bayou who cut his teeth on bullets and gunpowder.
There may have been salvation for Kain Zarek, but not this time, not this future, not anymore.
By the time the sun comes up in the morning, headlines will report his death. But for now, it remains one more nightmare in Richard Cardinal's mind.
One more terrible thing to keep him awake at night.
One less string.