ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-12-24 18:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, carol danvers (captain marvel), killian jones (captain hook) |
Who: Captain Hook & Captain Marvel
What: An update for Carol, regarding the work Killian's doing for her
When: Early on Christmas Eve
Where: A simple ol' Thai restaurant
Rating/Warnings: Low - talk of shady things, like drug cartels and murder
Status: Complete
An update of this nature was best for a restaurant, someplace that was simple and comfortable, no need to put on airs - the Thai place that Killian directed Carol to fit the bill, and admittedly, he was in the need of some hearty food. Like the huge bowl of stew he’d ordered, all that beef and vegetables swimming in broth. It was dark, somewhat murky, and looked like something ladled from a trough by a cook meant to prepare meals for hundreds, but it was good, spicy and smoky and perfect to sop up over a bed of rice. The restaurant itself was owned by a nice Thai lady who called all her customers “honey” and checked on them regularly; she was somewhere about the sparsely-decorated place while Killian sat at a table alone and waited. He had information for his client. Digging in deep yielded results, his favourite hacker received his cut, and the next step was to do some traveling on Killian’s end - what he would do when he got there depended on what Carol wanted. Which was what he’d go over with her now. She wasn’t here yet, but then again, he was early. And quite content with turning the spoon in his stew bowl on occasion, flipping through a newspaper and scanning the articles. It was important to keep up with what was going on in the world, and later he’d also browse the classifieds. Killian couldn’t afford a holiday from work thanks to his recent bout of being maimed - so he picked up new clients, kept going, and he’d try to find some work on the side too. Not like he wanted to get back into drug trafficking, but being an adult meant paying bills. Good god. Naturally, Carol was expecting that she’d get some kind of update, it had all been laid out rather well for her in the first place so she understood that it was coming. It didn’t help the nerves that fluttered around after the meeting was arranged. Maybe it was just as well they were meeting at a restaurant this time, since Carol hadn’t actually been able to eat all day, too worked up over the possibilities to actually think about food. The Thai place was a new location for Carol, so she’d left for the place a little early, got lost, got back on track and arrived around the agreed upon time, of course she was still late since Killian was already there. When asked if she’d need a seat, Carol just indicated towards the seated male and navigated her way through, “Sorry if I’m late,” direction was not Carol’s forte. “Or if you’ve just been waiting long.” Long enough to start reading? Carol couldn’t help the glance at her watch, nope, definitely not that late. “Oh, it’s quite alright,” Killian assured, folding his newspaper and setting it aside. Nothing out of the ordinary about a man meeting a woman in a restaurant, especially one so innocuous looking - and they’d have their privacy in this place. “I got here a bit early, actually. Just so I could do some reading and have a break from my own place. Fresh air does wonders, or so I hear.” He also passed Carol a menu in case she wanted anything, and after the sweet little old lady wandered over to take the order of the newcomer (‘honey’), he leaned in a bit at the table and focused all his attention on the blonde. How to break the news, was always the question. These types of things could be delicate. “Well, I’ve got a lot to go over and some questions for you about next steps. Do you want to wait ‘til you’ve got alcohol first?” He smirked, motioning toward the white, gauzy bandages that covered the scars on his left wrist - no hand, how convenient. “I’ve cut back on drinking for the moment, but please, feel free to have whatever you’d like.” “Oh God, are you okay?” It was the initial reaction, of course. After the sweet lady took a fairly plain tom yum soup to pick through, she needed to at least attempt to eat something. The beer to go with it would likely not be strong enough either. Carol knew that she wasn’t the only client this man had, she also knew that it was highly likely some of his work was not above bar as per legal standards -Carol could turn a blind eye to things when she really wanted to. But the entire concept of losing a hand in the space of time since she’d last seen him was just rather mind blowing right then. The casual airs about it didn’t exactly help matters really. “I mean, if you need a break from this, it’s totally fine.” Carol would starve or eat herself through the anxiousness, but that was survivable, “What on earth even happened?” Because, you know, hands! Was she actually concerned? Or anxious, or something? That was sweet of her. Killian didn’t mean to incite a flair-up of panic, however - he was simply drawing attention to what would be the elephant in the room, since it’s not like the bandages were discreet. Eventually, Carol would notice; she was the observant journalistic sort anyway. “I’m fine,” he promised. “Well, I will be. You don’t need to be worried though, I plan to take as much work as I can handle and I’ve been devoting a lot of time to your request. To be quite honest, I could use the money gainful employment brings me.” Now was not the time to go into detail about the absolutely insane hospital bill (seriously, did they charge by the fucking nanosecond?) but the fact that it was outrageous could probably be inferred. Sure, the balance was at zero for now - but Killian wasn’t stupid. He trusted very little about the ‘ways’ of this county. Now, moving along. Explaining what happened - giving a rundown, sort of. Carol wasn’t naive to the fuckery of Valarnet, so at least he didn’t need to sugarcoat some smooth, sweet lies. “I dreamed I lost my hand in a rather irritating altercation with a scaly demon called the Dark One. When I woke up, it had happened here too. But I’ve got a hook as a replacement, so I suppose that’s something.” Right. Hospitals were expensive, even with insurance it was a costly affair. Carol remembered her youngest brother needing an operation when they were little and even that was a financial burden. She couldn’t imagine losing a hand and the effects it’d had -financially and physically. It stood to reason that continuing to work through any rehabilitation that came from the injury was the only option really there. Carol was sympathetic to that. “It crossed over?” Well, that wasn’t unheard of, right? She got a cat that way. “Well that really sucks.” A cat was not the same as losing a limb. That seemed like the worst possible outcome too, which wasn’t something to point out to the guy who just lost his hand, so she kept shushed about it. “Well, if you’re sure to keep working,” necessity probably more than desire to do so, although it might serve as a bit of a distraction too. “I definitely admire your work ethic.” He wasn’t going to complain about the distraction, no. Killian was a master of occupying himself with other appealing things so he wouldn’t have to think about how he’d be nothing but a disappointment to the ghost of his older brother, ever since he died - that same older brother who essentially gave up his own life to raise the youngin’ when Father of the Year Brennan Jones tagged out of the responsibilities. And after receiving a lecture about how he shouldn’t fuck his problems away (Really? Coming from the same woman who threw a purple-cloud temper tantrum that ended up cursing a whole realm for twenty-eight years?), he was still going to do what worked for him. Stubborn. “We do what we have to do,” he smiled charmingly, taking a sip of his (not spiked) soda. There was a little bit of self-preservation, when it came to avoiding another stint in the hospital - because he couldn’t afford one, mostly, but also because visiting thanks to reactions from an alcohol-pills combo wouldn’t be much fun. “Now, let’s see...” To get organised, with why he asked Carol to meet him in the first place. “I’ve reached out, got answers for you - some of them rather, but the job’s not done. In person, I plan to collect more. But I’d like to go over it with you first so you can give me direction - I’m better able to get you what you want that way.” A person needed all the facts to make a solid decision. It was true, making do often ending up being just what happened, although that was never really as severe in her case as something like this. Still, if he was prepared to plod along and deal with things Carol could keep pace. She’d just keep herself aware that things may change pace on occasion pending Killian’s current health. “That’s fast.” Or not, it depended on the answers didn’t it. But then, an update might settle her worries a little. Her own beer and soup appeared, the pet name dropped before the sweetheart lady vanished off to check on the next person and Carol attempted to engross herself in the chicken cutting for a moment. “Okay, so… What’re we looking at here?” Because let’s face it, if he was about to inform her that the CIA had organised everything and that it was all shady and likely to end in further physical harm, well, she couldn’t exactly pay a newly maimed man to go and get further maimed, could she? “I won’t sugarcoat it. He’s alive, first and foremost,” Killian started. It was a possibility he remembered bringing up during their initial meeting, though at the time Carol had been convinced the funeral and all the mourning were for...legitimate purposes. “His partner, fellow NYPD upholder of the law, was conveniently a drug trafficker - not just any drug trafficker, but one involved in the business of heroin shipments. Fifty million dollars worth, according to the reports and wiretap results found in the operative’s files - this whole shipping arrangement tied back to a particular cartel in Mexico, all well and good. Your Michael was a CIA informant, and so this led to the bust.” Killian took another sip of his drink, preparing to scrape away at the iceberg - because really, what he’d gone over was just the tip. “However, it’s not as if we can trust the spooks at all, yeah?” He smirked bitterly. “Dig a little more and we find this: The CIA struck a deal with the most powerful drug cartel in Mexico - let them smuggle their wares, and they’d provide info on rival cartels. Michael got in too deep. Caught in the middle of this shady business between the CIA and the Mexican cartel - he knew too much. He’s been hiding from them and the other cartel his partner had connections to.” It was a lot. He’d give it a moment to sink in. The spoon was dropped, Carol’s mouth almost dropping open as well. It was almost like being entirely submerged in water. It was something he’d brought up, yes. And at the time Carol had been so sure, so adamant, because Michael wouldn’t just vanish from her life with no word. She was completely sure that he was dead, that something had gotten him killed and all this was just to find out what that was. Of all the scenarios she’d played out in her head, Killian telling her for sure that Michael was alive hadn’t been up there. And she’d imagined a lot of things. “But…” On the bright side (hah) Michael wasn’t the dirty one, just the one caught up in the crossfire, although realistically that didn’t make her feel any better at all. “You know, I’ve interviewed with spouses of informants so many times, when the mob were still a controlling force in New York. When loved ones would vanish for years just to resurface when trials were over. They always said the same thing, they had a feeling, some silly little inkling that the whole thing was a lie.” She’d heard it about five times, ‘I knew my husband/wife/son/daughter wasn’t dead, I just knew it’, something about a feeling in the bones. Carol had never had that. Just this desperate need to have the truth. The truth about Michael’s death. And even that was a lie. “Do you know where he is?” It was nasty business, no matter how you sliced it. Not to mention the rug beneath Carol had just gotten yanked out - there were a few roads to go down after this. Killian would see where the map would take him. “Not yet,” he said, giving the spoon another pass-through in the stew bowl. Most of it had been soaked up by rice at this point, it was so soggy and delicious - probably one of the first real meals he’d had in awhile, without complaining about it. Sometimes it was a chore to get him to take care of himself, he was aware he was still the worst patient ever. “But I plan to head to New York and DC to speak with the contacts we both know of, the list you gave me. I should be able to piece the puzzle together then, to get a location.” Shadow Walker was good, the very best, but he could only go so deep - the rest was up to Killian. However, this was an excellent place to begin the in-person work. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight though,” speaking low, and silkily, accent almost a purr despite their conversational topic. “If you wanted me to still look for him, or nip that in the bud, or do something about the bad guys on his behalf. Anything.” He always liked giving his clients options. Not yet. That obviously implied that Killian believed in his own ability to find out where Michael was. Carol had to weigh that one up a little bit. Presumably he was in witness protection -it was the logical place to put someone after something like that, and likely why his death was faked. Which meant he had a new life, a new name, new everything. So, as much as Carol might want answers, it might be a risk to his life to find them. Regarding everyone else, she wanted to obliterate them. Carol’s life was turned upside down on this, she moved across the country to get away from it and still couldn’t move past it. She didn’t think she couldn’t not see it all the way through now. “I need answers,” it wasn’t a case of wanting them anymore, she needed to know just what the hell had happened. “But what could even be done about bad guys?” Cartels and dirty agents, wasn’t that a little above what she asked for -although someone should get a swift super-powered kick in the crotch, that was for sure. “Then I’ll find him,” Killian promised. “So you at least know where he is, even if you don’t end up...reconnecting.” It wasn’t as if they would suddenly run toward each other with sappy music playing in the background - no, finding Michael was so Carol could have her answers. Those were what she wanted, and then what she did with them? Her business. As for the bad guys, he ought to not look too excited (ironic, actually; he was one of the bad guys, just playing for a different team now). But Hook, he was a part of Killian - that man who killed for less of a reason than Carol had, that was for fucking sure. Apparently drinking the Captain’s wine was an unforgivable offence - he’d drowned that man, and looted the body. It was a pattern with him. Once a pirate, always a pirate. “Do you want the person who orchestrated all this dead?” he asked, cutting right to the chase. “Cartel business is nasty business regardless, love.” Meaning that they wouldn’t even be missed once the dust settled - it happened, like any other sure thing in life. It should’ve been an automatic no. She should’ve balked instantly at the blunt offer of murder for hire (because that was exactly what this was), but the idea turned over in her head. In a way Michael hadn’t been the only death she’d suffered. She’d lost a part of herself, and in the year following, only chipped away more and more of that woman, until she wasn’t even sure who was left. Contemplating revenge was so out of character for her that she wasn’t even sure if that woman was still there. “Yes,” but it was actually an easy answer, she wanted them dead, wanted someone to suffer too. “Unless it’s Government. I don’t want you killing an agent, or having anything to do with a cops murder.” Because sure, cartels were scum, and she knew enough from dealing with mobs on the side that it got messy. Other mobsters killing mobsters. The cartels were just as bad, if not worse in some cases. And who would really miss that? “I can’t get you involved in something like that.” But dirty cops were still cops, and if it came to that, Carol doubted she’d be able to let someone else get so sullied with that. He was a bit surprised, and pleasantly so. In the past, Killian had resorted to murder when clients asked for it - very rarely, and in each instance it was a special circumstance. But this? This was a special circumstance too. It was taking justice into your own hand(s), and he would be happy to do whatever it took to achieve that. “Noted,” he said, even if he also knew that dirty cops deserved to burn just as much as cartel scum did. Maybe even more so. But that was neither here nor there - he wasn’t being paid to give his opinion, unless Carol asked for it. “Now that I’ve got direction, I’ll find out more. May be an agent, may not be - it’s honestly an intricate web, it requires unweaving in person. I’ve got contacts everywhere too, so you know,” he tacked on. “It’s not like I’m going in blind.” No, he’d been at this for awhile. Playing the game wasn’t new to him - his reputation crossed oceans, didn’t it. “I also don’t stay in five-star hotels either, when I travel for work. No unnecessary expenses added. Like I said, I’ve got contacts and ways to get where I need to be. If that eases your mind a little.” It was a relief that she’d actually gotten his number, instead of a less honest or willing PI, she got one that laid it all out and didn’t sugar coat. Refreshing. The news might not be what she wanted, but the quality of work was beyond what she could’ve hoped for. Even with the offer of murder on the table. “Killian, please don’t live in your car. A standard hotel charge is fine. For what you’re bringing me, I don’t mind.” She was getting answers, she wanted those, so she’d pay for the work she was getting. She’d worked at the magazine long enough to earn a decent living, she didn’t take holidays and she didn’t splash the cash. This was her treat to herself. Closure. “It will ease my mind if I get some bills for places with actual beds.” Killian laughed, leaning back in his seat and studying his companion with appraising eyes. She was alright, certainly a feisty lady - he hoped that after all this bullshit was said and done, Carol got that peace of mind she wanted. It would take a bit longer, but good things were worth waiting for. They also didn’t come easy either. “Fair enough, Ms. Danvers,” he half-smiled, closer to a smirk. “And I’ll still keep you updated - you’ve got my email.” The secured, encrypted one that he used for communication - had used to schedule tonight’s update as well; he also didn’t write anything down now. Not a good idea. A summary would be sent later, along with indication that he was out on his merry way to finish the job for her. “The final report will be when I come back. Hard copy, as you indicated before.” This was all one hell of an update too, so he wanted to ensure he covered everything. “Anything else you’d like to go over? Oh - “ The cute little old lady was coming back this way, so he switched his focus, “...another beer for her, this one’s on me,” Killian winked. Coming right up, honey. She’d probably need that drink. Updates through the work would be good, Carol did like to stay informed of what was happening, and it was a matter that she was fairly invested in. Luckily the office would be breaking off for a few weeks between Christmas and New Year, with would mean more time to obsess, naturally. “Just one thing um,” probably the thing that would determine if Carol actually did anything when she found out about Michael. “Do you know how involved with things he was? Michael, obviously. Did he just get caught up in something too big or… Or was he involved in it?” Everyone had a price, right? What if Michael had found his? “No,” Killian shook his head, not wanting to paint a picture of Michael that was false, or that he didn’t deserve. Neither he or Carol deserved this - but sometimes things snowballed, and Killian knew that well. How else would he have ended up here, after being on track for a Naval career? Life was cruel sometimes. It was often unpredictable. “He wasn’t involved. It was a matter of flipping the wrong switch and, actually, the Fates - or however you want to look at it - I suppose they didn’t help, when it came to who he ended up with as a partner in the NYPD.” Of course it had to be the guy who was smuggling millions of dollars worth of heroin into the country. “But I assure you, he wasn’t paid off. He wanted to do the right thing. It’s just that...it can be difficult, in that regard. When you’re wading through too much.” It helped. It didn’t change much, but it helped to alleviate anything that might start to nag at her, about what kind of person Michael really was, and if she had missed something about the man she’d been prepared to spend her life with. She was glad that wasn’t the case at all. “Okay, good.” Carol managed a half relieved sigh at that, smiling her thanks at the appearance of her second beer and managing to get back to her soup with a little more gusto. “I never used to believe in Fate.” Whatever cosmic power that was out there, Carol hadn’t really been much of a believer. She went to one of those schools where they taught you that God had a plan. And then you watched on the news as people killed each other over what they believed God told them, it caused a hell of a lot of disillusion with Carol specifically. “I suppose I’m less and less sure these days.” But this place seemed to cause a question mark to hang over that particular subject. Fate and design and the cosmic balance of everything. Maybe it was just the dreams affecting her thinking but… “Ever felt like a domino tile halfway down the chain?” Killian sure as fuck didn’t believe in any omnipotent God, but the strings of Fate - there might be something to that. The universe worked in mysterious ways, as he was rapidly learning all too quickly. “All the time,” he laughed without mirth. “It’s all just going and going - and it started when I first arrived here, literally, the first couple of nights when I met my client. It hasn’t fucking stopped since.” Or even given him a bit of a reprieve. But he had to learn to roll with the punches, to just keep taking them and then finding a way to carry on. He sat back in his seat, cradling the glass of soda. In fact, he might need another, and another, so he’d float away on a cloud of carbonation. “We’ll get through it though. Ultimately, I think that...we were drawn here for a reason. Even if we don’t know why yet. But the answers will come.” It was the best advice he could offer, despite all the unknowns. Carol couldn’t really put her finger on it, but maybe it was from the moment she arrived, right up until now. Or maybe the most recent developments in things had just highlighted the fact that everything was utterly insane in this place. But the draw towards it, fate or destiny or whatever, was just too much to really take their leave. “Answers, isn’t that what we’re all just waiting for now?” Answers to the dreams, answers to life, answers to just what the hell they were doing anymore. It was ridiculous sometimes, yes, but on the whole, Carol had little to complain about dream wise. “I hope the rest of yours come with a little less severity.” It was definitely something to worry about, and Carol only hoped that nothing so severe turned up somewhere in her dreams -maybe she should contact Logan and find out. “Oh, they probably won’t.” Killian was more a realist - he didn’t really hold fast to optimism, instead, he’d leave that to the likes of his Savior friend. Who managed to hold onto even the slightest bit of hope, even when all the odds were stacked against her - it was truly an admirable trait, from both she and her paramour. Maybe he could take tips from the likes of them. “But I suppose we’ll see, hmm? For the both of us.” He tipped the edge of his glass vaguely in Carol’s direction. That was all they could do too. Wait and see, hope and pray, look for answers. All of it was out there - but timing? Timing was everything, and fuck anyone who stated otherwise. All the stars could align perfectly, but if it wasn’t the right time nothing worked. So he’d stick it out. In addition to finding whatever was asked of him, that at least he was also good at. Cheers. |