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nextgenerationmarvel2015-04-07 04:56 pm
ngm_hellfire) wrote in nextgenerationmarvel2015-04-07 04:56 pm
Entry tags:
A Little Revenge, Justly Earned (Marcelo)
Warning: Contains some fairly unpleasant violence.
The cancellation of all contacts with Veridian hadn't been a deathblow in and of itself, while it was a major disappointment for Shaw Industries, the fact was that the core of Shaw Industries' business was with America itself. The real damage was psychological. Whatever defeats or disappointments Sebastian Shaw had faced in his career previously, he'd led Shaw Industries to virtually uninterrupted growth and prosperity. He'd made the Board enormously wealthy and in exchange, they had given him their unstinting allegiance. There was often talk of the Board at Shaw Industries being the 'King's Men', but many of them had worn that badge with pride.
But the Brazilian setback had exposed other weaknesses in the company. It was reliant on continued contracts for heavy weaponry from the US government, but the fact was that many of those contracts were over and the government wasn't renewing all of them. Disengagement by some of Shaw Industries' partners had also played a part. It wouldn't be apparent for a month or two, but everyone knew what was coming- for the first time in over twenty years, Shaw Industries was going to post a loss for the next quarter.
It wouldn't be large loss, and in a company with a less thoroughly top-down leadership, it would probably come and go with only some mild reconstruction. But since Sebastian Shaw made all the main decisions, the loss would be pinned to him. People on the Board started talking. Some wondered if Sebastian's 'other job' had dug too far into his leadership on a corporate level.
That had been when Sebastian had contacted Crane, to reinforce his godlike leadership of the Board. It hadn't been hard, most of them would not have seriously contemplated rebellion anyway. It was precisely the sort of work Crane loathed, though. He'd found himself in dire need of some entertainment after that. Something to take his mind off of work.
The girl was a sweet young thing, obviously new to her trade- she was not a cunning enough actor to fake it. And Crane had been the picture of civility. Then she'd come home with him and he'd started. And now? Now that sweet thing was gently swaying on the end of a belt. Life is cheap, isn't it?, Crane thought as he casually sipped a glass of wine. He'd allowed her to speak her own will so she could beg, all in that sweet, innocent voice, while her hands and arms did the work. And then when the belt had cut off her breath, all she could do was stare at him. He could have cut her down if he'd wanted to, and sometimes he did, made them feel grateful. Just before he finished them another way. But he'd needed to watch someone die right then so he'd been a little hasty with her.
The man who'd given Marcelo the tip hadn't wished to be named. All he'd said was that he knew where Crane lived, and that he would be home that night.
The cancellation of all contacts with Veridian hadn't been a deathblow in and of itself, while it was a major disappointment for Shaw Industries, the fact was that the core of Shaw Industries' business was with America itself. The real damage was psychological. Whatever defeats or disappointments Sebastian Shaw had faced in his career previously, he'd led Shaw Industries to virtually uninterrupted growth and prosperity. He'd made the Board enormously wealthy and in exchange, they had given him their unstinting allegiance. There was often talk of the Board at Shaw Industries being the 'King's Men', but many of them had worn that badge with pride.
But the Brazilian setback had exposed other weaknesses in the company. It was reliant on continued contracts for heavy weaponry from the US government, but the fact was that many of those contracts were over and the government wasn't renewing all of them. Disengagement by some of Shaw Industries' partners had also played a part. It wouldn't be apparent for a month or two, but everyone knew what was coming- for the first time in over twenty years, Shaw Industries was going to post a loss for the next quarter.
It wouldn't be large loss, and in a company with a less thoroughly top-down leadership, it would probably come and go with only some mild reconstruction. But since Sebastian Shaw made all the main decisions, the loss would be pinned to him. People on the Board started talking. Some wondered if Sebastian's 'other job' had dug too far into his leadership on a corporate level.
That had been when Sebastian had contacted Crane, to reinforce his godlike leadership of the Board. It hadn't been hard, most of them would not have seriously contemplated rebellion anyway. It was precisely the sort of work Crane loathed, though. He'd found himself in dire need of some entertainment after that. Something to take his mind off of work.
The girl was a sweet young thing, obviously new to her trade- she was not a cunning enough actor to fake it. And Crane had been the picture of civility. Then she'd come home with him and he'd started. And now? Now that sweet thing was gently swaying on the end of a belt. Life is cheap, isn't it?, Crane thought as he casually sipped a glass of wine. He'd allowed her to speak her own will so she could beg, all in that sweet, innocent voice, while her hands and arms did the work. And then when the belt had cut off her breath, all she could do was stare at him. He could have cut her down if he'd wanted to, and sometimes he did, made them feel grateful. Just before he finished them another way. But he'd needed to watch someone die right then so he'd been a little hasty with her.
The man who'd given Marcelo the tip hadn't wished to be named. All he'd said was that he knew where Crane lived, and that he would be home that night.
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It was a good start to kinetic chess. This wasn't the bruising bluster of Crane's employer. This was skill and physical manipulation honed through years of practice. Vesper wrapped his legs around and hooking Crane's thighs with his heels. Crane's upper body would be controlled by arms wrapped around his neck.
"I know exactly who you work for, and I don't care. He won't be hunting me," he said almost conversationally in Crane's ear. "I'm not here to kill you. There's always worse things than death."
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"Please ..." Crane managed to choke out, but none of his struggles had any effect on Marcelo's grip.
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"How many times did the women have no chance to beg?" He tightened his grip a little on that question. Though he quickly reined in his temper and loosened it back down to a solid grip.
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"Do you really want to hear? Or are you just trying to prolong this any way you can?" Crane's strange detached manner seemed to reassert itself. "Perhaps you're not much better than I am, after all."
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He tightened his grip on Crane's neck. One thing choked people instinctively do is open their mouths to gasp for breath. That would be the opening Vesper needed to get the pellet in.
Once in, he would shift his grip from the neck to the jaw. Using Crane's own teeth (or the ones still left in his head) to break open the pellet felt like the best option. Clapping his hand over the man's mouth and nose would keep the gas where Vesper wanted it.
If I don't catch you tonight, you'll probably have to give me some info on how this affects him ...
There was nothing he could do. The poison would be taking its effect, one way or the other.
CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!
Then he quickly disengaged from the man and got off the bed. As strong as the impulse to just leave the man to his fate was, the costumed vigilante kept an eye on him. Vengeance worked better on the living.
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Then he turned toward the body dangling. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, feeling exhausted. He just hadn't been fast enough to save her. Vesper got up to cut her down. He ignored the grisly reality of what a body does when one dies. He gently laid the young woman's body in the bed next to Crane. It was the best he could do for her at the moment.
Vesper silently went back out the way he got in. Once airborne and away from the penthouse, he placed an anonymous call about a woman's screams for help. It would be too late for the police like it was him. He turned a wide arc in the sky and headed toward home.
Despite the victory, Vesper didn't feel the need to patrol anymore that night. Once Shaw got wind of what happened to his lackey, home might be the safest place for the man-sized bat.