Chapter Text
"I'm just telling you, we really need that Antizin. It's getting urgent, Crane." Rahim's voice crackled through the radio, and Crane felt a pang of guilt as the static fizzled out. The memory of piling Antizin crates -- probably the first that hadn't been looted by Rais for weeks -- into an open flame flashed before his eyes. At least now the GRE would get their damn contact with Rais. Unless these guys shot his brains out first.
"Yeah, I know." Crane muttered, before smashing his pipe head into the mushy skull of a biter.
"Oh and Crane," Rahim said somewhat ominously, "make sure you don't sneak up on them. That's a good way to catch a bullet."
Crane scoffed. "Yeah, I got it." He sprinted over a small hill covered in yellowing grass, laying his eyes on a fortified gate only another hundred feet away.
"Who the fuck are you!?" Screamed one of the gate's watchers, gun heavy in his arms, unbothered by the increased guttural sounds his raised voice earned from the biters outside the gate.
"I'm here to speak to Rais!" Crane yelled back, pushing his way past one of the zombies before hauling himself on top of a car and jumping onto a makeshift bridge over the gate. "I'm from the Tower." He added, the guard lowering his rifle.
"The Tower? What do you want?" Said the man, now suddenly seeming much younger behind all his heavy armor and big yellow jacket, simply by the virtue of no longer being as life-threatening.
"I'm here to make a deal." Crane said, walking at a slightly slowed pace towards the guard. He seemed to contemplate for another few seconds, before shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head backwards, signalling for Crane to proceed.
"Alright, let him through!"
Several other men lowered the guns they had trained on him, and stepped aside to allow Crane to pass. He quickened his steps, feeling his breathing pick up slightly with anticipation; finally, he would be able to confirm the mysterious 'Rais' identity, possibly get Antizin for the Tower, and actually proceed within the GRE's mission. The real mission.
He found himself by a large blue door, and put the better part of his forearm into three loud knocks. With guys like this, Crane thought, he needed to act cooperatively -- of course -- but it was also crucial to show a backbone. If Rais was indeed Suleiman, Crane would need to earn his respect in order to have a chance at recovering the stolen file.
A clicking sound, and then the door was pulled aside. Crane found himself inches from the face of a man with sharp features, greasy hair pulled into a ponytail, arched eyebrows. A scar on his forehead. "Who are you?" His tone was quite light, there was no anger or hostility in his voice. He seemed businesslike, a friendly smirk on his face.
"I'm from the Tower. I need to make a deal with Rais." Crane said matter-of-factually. From inside, he heard someone mutter "Tower trash" but he paid no mind. What was more distracting was the scene playing out before him in the yard.
A huge man, easily 6'5", bulging with an obscene amount of muscle, towered over a table where two other guards held a skinny black-haired man down. "You have been lying to us," said the giant in a deep and thickly accented voice, "Rais has been supplying with protection, food, weapons, in only exchange for loyalty. So it is strange you would steal from him."
Crane wanted desperately to ask, loudly, what was going on -- the giant held a machete in his right hand -- but bit down on his tongue, tearing his gaze from the skinny man's pleading eyes.
The smirking man before him nodded slightly and stepped. "I'm Karim. That's Rais," he gestured toward a man, in a plum colored suit jacket, sitting cross legged on top of a haphazardly built, black-painted structure. "It's best to not disturb him just right now." Karim said in a hushed voice. Crane stepped inside before Karim closed the door, then followed him further inside.
Rais looked interesting. His head was buzz-cut, he sported a dark goatee, and his skin was the color of milk coffee. He seemed to be absentmindedly sharpening the blade of a throwing knife, but Crane could tell he was closely engaged with the scene going on in front of him. While the man himself stayed quiet, his eyes were anything but; his dark gaze was trained on the skinny man.
"With thieves there is only one solutions. Rais is merciful so he give you a choice, your right or your left hand?" The giant's voice seemed to shake the air around it, booming from deep in his chest. Crane tensed up involuntarily at the gruesome violence the sentence promised.
"L-left..." stammered the poor bastard crouched over the table. The machete glinted with sunlight as the giant raised it, and in the next breath the skinny man was screaming in agony. Strikingly red blood gushed out of his arm as the guards pulled him onto his feet and dragged him away. Crane swallowed hard. The giant flicked blood of the machete, and wiped off the rest on his pant leg.
Karim mouthed good luck as he turned back and walked to his post by the door. Crane's eyes jumped around, concluding that the only way out was through that door, and beside Karim, the giant and Rais himself there were two other heavily armed guards. Well, another two visible guards. His eyes returned to Rais -- it almost startled him to find those dark eyes now intently watching him. There was a sparkle of something in them, a silent but nearly overwhelmingly intense interest.
"You have the look of the Tower about you," he said, his voice deep and raspy, the kind of voice that would have made Crane weak in the knees in... admittedly the context would have to have been wildly different, but the point still stood. It was also a voice he had heard several times before, while watching videos of various political meetings, in preparation for his mission."What do you want?"
"I'm here to make a deal." Crane struggled to keep his own voice entirely steady. Rais' eyes lit up in amusement.
"Ah," he dragged out the vowel, "a deal for Antizin, I'm sure."
"That's right."
Rais put his blade aside, hauling himself off his strange throne with a graceful, fluid motion. Crane noticed the dark skin exposed between the edges of the purple jacket was tattooed; black ink snaking its way down hard muscle before disappearing under the fabric of his pants.
"And what do you offer in return?" He said, almost purring. "Your services?" His steps were light as he stalked closer, arching his neck to indicate interest, "your loyalty?" Crane felt his jaw muscles tighten. His feelings were definitely mixed. "Perhaps I shall take both."
"Karim will give you a mission. Do not waste Rais' time." Said the giant, but Rais snapped his head at him.
"Tahir," he said, still keeping his voice amicable but hinting at a greater darkness below the surface, "don't interrupt." The giant, apparently named Tahir, snapped his mouth shut and opted to put down the machete on the blood-soaked table, next to the hand which had began turning white. Crane once again had to force his eyes away from the terrible scene.
"What do I need to do?" Crane cleared his throat, pulled his shoulders back, widened his stance. Hopefully his stance would be confident enough to trick Rais into not thinking the Tower was completely desperate. And it was his fault, damn it.
Rais chuckled, but now his eyes were a lot colder. "Maybe I'll have you activate a few of the radio towers," he said, "or run some errands." The emphasis made Crane a little wary.
"I don't seem to have a choice," he said, squaring his shoulders even more.
Rais swayed a bit, motioning with his hands. "Perceptive." Then he nodded to Karim, who promptly walked forwards again, hitting Crane in the shoulder.
"I'll brief you, give you a map. Come on."