Chapter 27: Chapter 27 Why was the snake mad at the jewel thief? Because he wanted his diamondback
In the grand tradition of illegal hideouts all over the world, this particular backroom behind an underground casino had a barely visible interior (more due to the heavy fog of cigar smoke that coated everything rather than because of the poor lighting) and the parts of it that were visible spoke both of great wealth, as well as low maintenance.
For instance, on the great oaken table that sat in the middle of the room, the rich original colour of the wood had faded with age, and instead had been replaced by the grimy combination of spilled tobacco, spilled alcohol and spilled blood, puckered pockmarks of bullet-ricochets and deep gashes of knife-slashes marking the table as if it were a tapestry of its violent history.
As a contrast to the shabby nature of the table however, small mountains of cash were strewn about on its top as if those riches were nothing more than pocket change to the five men seated around the table, themselves dressed in fine designer suits and adorned with heavy golden chains and watches.
It spoke of the kind of money that was either inherited or illegally gained, but never properly earned.
The five men were playing poker, two men on either side of the long end of the table, the last one seating at the head, leaving an empty chair at the other end. If an observant man would happen to look at these men, then he would immediately notice that their attention was more on the chair than on their cards.
A wise man, however, would keep his mouth shut about it after seeing all the guns and knives that were tucked away in belts and hidden inside designer jackets.
"He's late." The sharply dressed man at the head of the table said in a calm tone of voice, which was at odds with his eyes, fixed on the chair across from him.
They showed a barely contained rage, just waiting for an outlet, and excuse for violence.
A sentiment that was shared by the other occupants of the table, considering that the missing person had been the one to request this rare meeting, as a dark skinned man to his left let out a scoff, throwing his cards down.
"O course him late! Him tryna show us, him betta than us! Mad disrespec, zeen?" the man spat, his anger causing his Jamaican drawl to come out even thicker than usual.
"Come on Nigel. Do you really think that little of me?" A voice suddenly called out, causing hands to fly to the handles of guns and to curl around knives in reflex as a one armed man strolled through the door.
"Klaue. Who do ya think ya are to just barge in here after making us wait for an hour?" a tall man with a heavy Irish accent growled, half-turning in his seat in order to look over his shoulder, incidentally also showing off the hand cannon tucked in the back of his belt.
Ulysses Klaue, once one of the most infamous arms dealers in the world, merely smiled at the anger being directed at him, giving a half-shrug in response.
"Got stuck in traffic. 'Sides, your guards here, they just let me walk in."
Right on the heels of that statement however, came the sounds of a struggle from beyond the doorway. The men around the table exchanged quick glances in confusion, before there was a cry of pain, and the large form of what was obviously a bouncer flew into the room, crashing hard against the opposite wall with enough force to put a hole in the plaster.
"After a bit of convincing, of course." Klaue said, his smile widening as behind him, a little girl walked into the room, her face drawn in a scowl as her eyes kept flitting around the people sitting around the table, scanning its occupants with a deadly gaze.
As Klaue walked over to the table to take the empty seat, the man to his left who had been sitting across from the Irish man turned towards him, fists clenched as he bared his teeth in anger.
"You ask for this fucking meeting, then you make us wait, then you come in here and beat on our people and you think you can just sit at our table, as an equal?! Who the fuck do you think you are, puta!?" the Mexican growled, a switchblade suddenly flashing in his hands, the point unwaveringly aimed at Klaue.
Stilling his motions, Klaue slowly turned his head towards the gang leader, his expression hewn from stone, before he coolly lifted an eyebrow.
"Shuri."
Directly on the heels of the command, something flew through the darkened interior of the room, slamming into the blade of the Mexican's knife with a metallic ringing sound, wrenching it from his hand and carrying it to the far side of the room, slamming into the wall.
Before the rest of the occupants could react, five more objects flew through the room, each one imbedding themselves in the cards that each player had put on the table when Klaue had entered the room, revealing themselves to be slim throwing knives of an unfamiliar design.
Slowly, the gazes from the men went from the trembling blades stuck in their cards to the lithe form of the girl that was standing behind Klaue, her arms outstretched as she gave a challenging smirk. Leaning a bit forwards in his chair, making all eyes snap from the girl to him again, Ulysses stared the shocked looking Mexican straight in his eyes, his voice a low growl that easily carried across the silent room.
"I'm Ulysses fucking Klaue. I'm the man who stole billions worth of the most precious material on Earth from the most advanced country in the world, and then evaded their best spies and assassins for thirty years. Every single black ops organization out there has bought their weapons from me. During the Cold War, both the West and the Commies bought their weapons from me. I have made more money in a year than you and your gang combined will ever see in a lifetime. I know people in the darkest corners of the world that are capable of tearing down this city to its bedrock if I were to ask them to. And if you ever, ever insult me again, then I will track you down, cut you open from your throat to your dick, and hang you by your own intestines. Capiche?"
For a moment, utter silence reigned across the room, before the Mexican, wide eyed and sweating, gave a hesitant nod.
"I don't doubt your claims Klaue. But it makes me ask myself: the fuck are you doing here? We all control parts of New York, but outside of our turf there are other cats calling the shots around this city. If you're so global as you say you are, then why come to locals like us?" the man opposite Klaue asked leisurely, his posture one of supreme confidence and utter nonchalance.
"Glad you asked, Cottonmouth." The arms dealer replied, a smirk on his face.
For a moment, the other people's eyes flickered between Klaue and the now named Cottonmouth, as the tension in the room suddenly spiked when the Harlem gang leader's face suddenly went flat.
"I hate that name." Cornell Stokes slowly said, his voice low and full with the hidden promise of violence, but Klaue didn't seem to care, smile still on his face as he stared the murderous looking gang leader straight in his eyes.
"I don't give a fuck. Now, to answer your question, you all been watching the news lately, yeah?" Klaue said in response as he leaned back in his chair, drawing a few confused looks from the gang leaders, the Irish man letting out a scoff and a shake of his head.
"Course we have. What of it?"
"Then I suppose you all know about that new guy, McCole? Pretty big? Glowy eyes? Thinks he can take on Stark? Ring any bells?"
"Again, course we have. Now what of it?"
"He's the one who took my arm." Klaue bluntly replied, making all the other men sit a little straighter in their chairs as they couldn't help their eyes from flitting to the empty sleeve of the arms dealer's shirt, hiding the missing appendage.
They were taken off guard at the massive grin that grew on Klaue's face however.
"So in return, I'm gonna take his head."
For a moment, silence reigned across the table, before a diminutive Puerto Rican man spoke up for the first time since Klaue and Shuri had entered the room.
"Then what you need us for? You keep saying how scary as fuck you are, then go and put a bullet between the fucker's eyes." The man said, running a hand across his slicked back hair, getting nods of agreement from the other criminals, but Klaue just shook his head.
"It ain't that easy. He's one of them super freaks. And I'm positive that the rest of the people, that work at that factory of his, are a bunch of freaks too."
"So wat you is sayin' is tat you need a crew?" Nigel asked him, rubbing his chin in contemplation as he stared intently at the crippled arms dealer.
"I can pay for a crew, that ain't the problem. Fucker sold all my hardware, but he was stupid enough to think he got to all my liquid assets as well just because I told him that he did. No, I promised the girlie here that she could join in as well." Klaue said while pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Shuri, who hadn't moved from her spot ever since negotiations began.
While the gang leader's first response was to scoff at the idea of the little girl taking on the behemoth of a man, all of them couldn't help but quickly glance at the knives imbedded in the table in front of them.
They wisely kept their doubts to themselves.
"Which is why I came to you. It'll take a couple of years before little Shuri has grown into a proper threat, so if in the meantime I can fuck up his neighbourhood by selling my wares to the gangs of New York, then that just sweetens the deal."
"You got stock again?" Cottonmouth asked, keen interest clear in his eyes, but the Puerto Rican man instead frowned as he stared at Klaue in deep thought.
"Wakandan made, and I'm the only one that can get it to you since they keep putting down everyone else comin' through their borders without waving a white flag. Guaranteed Stark level tech, and since he's out of the business, it's the best shit you're gonna get your hands on. I returned there when they had that… change of regime going on, took some presents with me." Klaue said with a wide grin, his hand going inside the shirt that he wore, withdrawing an enormous futuristic looking gun, making all the other criminals jump from their chairs, pointing their own weapons in his direction.
Neither he, nor Shuri seemed all that bothered at the multitude of weaponry now trained on them and instead, Klaue just pointed his gun off to the side, nonchalantly pulling the trigger. There was a brief, soft hissing sound, before something slammed from the barrel and into the far wall faster than any of them could blink, smashing apart the ancient brickwork in an explosion of dust and mortar, a torso-sized hole punched into it.
The gunshot itself had been almost utterly silent.
With shocked looks, the criminals switched their gazes from the weapon to Klaue and back again, as they all slowly sat back down in their chairs, though they all kept their hands on their weapons.
"It's amazing, the things that Vibranium can do with sound. Sound's just vibrations in the air, you see, so you can do all kinds of cool shit with it. And then strap it to Stark-level weaponry, and well, that's the result." Klaue mused with a nonchalant wave to the crumbling wall, and it didn't take a genius to see the interest and greed rise in the eyes of the gang leaders.
Except for the Puerto Rican man, who kept his eyes fixed on the massive cannon in Klaue's hand.
"You ain't telling us the whole of it, Klaue. First off, you ain't the only one with this kinda tech. After Hammer got locked up cause of that whole Expo mess and you had that yard sale of yours, someone else got their hands on massive cashes of Hammer-tech. New player, goes by the name of Diamondback. If you just wanted to flip your weapons, then you would be talking to him, he's been buying to add to his stock like some crazy mamabicho, like he's readying for war or some shit like that. And if you just wanted New York fucked, then you would've gone to the big player. Don't know his name, nobody does, but he's got Japs and Russian and basically everyone else working for him. Dude fucking owns the police. You want the whole of New York fucked, you go to him. No, you're here for another reason." The man mused, dark eyes settling unwaveringly on Klaue's.
Behind the arms dealer, Shuri's hand slowly crept to the back of the belt she wore, but her movements were halted by Klaue raising a hand, while the cripple didn't take his eyes of the Puerto Rican.
"Colon, wasn't it? Domingo Colon? Ain't you a clever one. I'm gonna keep my eye on you." Klaue said with a grim little smile, and nobody around the table knew whether or not Colon had just made a tentative ally, or a hateful enemy.
Probably the latter, they simultaneously decided.
"But, to be fair, you ain't wrong. Thing is, I came to you cause I know you guys. I don't know this Diamonback, heard about him though. Fucker was one of my biggest competitors for the Hammer-stashes that flooded the black market after the shit show the company went through, but I bid him out. Until McCole screwed me over, now he's got his hands on it anyways. And I sure as hell ain't getting tangled with a guy who nobody knows the name of. I got enough contacts in the government as it is, I don't need a guy like him to rule the police for me. But above all, I came here for you." And with that, Klaue pointed his hand in Nigel's direction, who looked nonplussed at the sudden attention.
"Me? Wat ya need me fo?"
"Oh, I don't. She does." Klaue said, pointing at Shuri again.
Seeing Nigel's confused look, the arms dealer elaborated.
"I promised the girlie that I would make her as strong as possible. We're already making some progress in that-" as he spoke, he glanced at the slumped over security guard who was still embedded in the wall, the criminals looking somewhat uncomfortable as they followed his gaze "-but she needs more."
For a moment, Nigel's eyes kept flitting between Shuri, Klaue and the massive gun that Klaue had lain on the table, before they slowly went back to Klaue again, caution visibly warring with greed on his face.
Being a criminal leader, Klaue wasn't surprised to see greed eventually win out.
"Ow can I 'elp ya, tap a di tap?"
Smiling at the respectful title, Klaue leaned a little forward in his chair.
"I need you to contact one of your guys. McIver. Johhny McIver."
"Johnny? Memba, mi tell yu, him is a squeako, wat ya want a crazy like him fo?"
"From what little I heard, he's all into that mumbo-jumbo you Jamaicans are so damned proud of. Figure he could pass a little somethin' down to little Shuri here."
"Dinnae tell me ya actually believe any 'o tha crap Klaue. Magic and shite like that." The Irish man scoffed, drawing a scowl from Nigel, but the arms dealer merely smiled, glancing over his shoulder as he did so.
"Let's just say, what I saw back there in Wakanda? It really… broadened my horizons."
After Nigel had promised to try and track down McIver, and tentative deals for weapons had been struck with the other criminals, Shuri and Klaue were walking back towards their hideout, the sun just starting its slow decent towards the Western horizon (it's a stubborn myth that all illegal meetings have to happen at midnight. Only some do, and those are usually done by those on the lower rungs of the criminal hierarchy. Those at the top can afford to go to bed at the same reasonable time like everybody else, and after a lifetime of crime and unreasonable working hours, most tend to make abundant use of the fact), when the girl spoke up.
"Ulysses… about what you said, to the Mexican? About the whole… strangling and… cutting? You didn't really mean that, right? You just said that stuff to scare him, right?"
Coming to a halt, Ulysses looked at the little girl next to him, scratching the scruff on his cheek as he tried to figure out what he should say.
"Look… what happened back there, that's just the way things work. It's all about respect."
"People respect you when you threaten them?" Shuri asked in confusion, but Klaue just nodded his head.
"In a way. Just think about cops. Without cops, laws are just ink on paper that nobody other than lawyers bothers to read. But we still respect those laws, because there are cops, and they threaten to hurt us and lock us up if we don't."
"We've been here almost a week and I haven't seen cops threaten people?" the little princess asked with a confused tilt to her head.
"That's because they're civilized. Or at least, everyone pretends to be. They don't go around saying they're threatening people, the badge makes it… implicit. Meanin' everybody knows that they gonna fuck your shit up if you don't respect the laws or the badge. But back there? Ain't nobody pretending to be civilized. That's the real world, girlie, and in the real world there ain't no bloody cops and a badge doesn't mean a fucking thing. You gotta take your place in the world, and say 'fuck off!' to everyone that tries to push you around and away from your spot, you got me? Back there, I took my place at the table, but the Mexican insulted me, tried to push me around. So, I needed to threaten him, show him that he should respect the place I chose or I'd push back."
For a moment, Shuri and Klaue remained standing on the sidewalk, the throngs of people smoothly parting around them, completely oblivious to their existence (though Klaue had drawn a few outraged stares from mothers walking with their children when they picked up snippets of his cursing. Not that the criminal cared).
"And if you pushed back… you'd really-"
"No! No, no, of course not! Uhh, it's just, uhh, making yourself scarier than you are, you know? Yeah, 'cause, uhh, that way you don't need to push." Klaue hurried to assure the stricken little girl, bending down on one knee as he desperately lied in order to keep Shuri's loyalty.
The little girl was obsessed with killing the man who murdered her mother, and was willing to go to extreme lengths in order to achieve that (like beating up the bouncers from the casino they had just left behind) but most of all she was still a little girland the mention of cold-blooded torture like the kind that Klaue had threatened with still shocked her.
And if Klaue wanted to keep his 'get out of Wakanda free' card, than he had to make sure that she kept seeing him as the (relative) good guy.
"You mean like the grey catbird does?" Shuri asked in a small tone, some measure of relief coming through in her voice.
"Yea-, wait what?"
"The grey catbird. Male grey catbirds fluff their feathers and spread their lower tails to defend their territory when threatened by another male. The bird that is capable of puffing up and appearing to be the biggest will win the territory." Shuri stated proudly, as if reciting word for word from a book.
"Yeah. Sure, let's go with that." Klaue replied, shaking his head as he straightened and they continued walking.
After a few dozen steps, Klaue couldn't help but gaze at the little princess from the corner of his eyes, raising an eyebrow in question.
"How come you know so much about this, catbird thing?"
He was surprised to see Shuri blush a little, and the girl sped up her walk in embarrassment, prompting a deep laugh from Klaue.
"Oho, what's this? Little Shuri doesn't want to tell me how she knows something? My my, the world must be coming to an end then!" Klaue teased, grinning even wider when the little girl stopped walking, stomping the ground with a tiny foot, arms crossed in front of her chest as she glared up at the arms dealer with an annoyed huff.
"Cause I thought they were catbirds! I wanted to know what mix between a cat and a bird looked like okay?"
"HAHAHAHA!" Klaue burst out in booming laughter, causing people to stop and turn in his direction with questioning looks, while Shuri just kept on blushing harder and harder.
She quickly got fed up with her mentor's laughter however, and delivered a sharp kick to Klaue's leg, which quickly put a stop to his fun, though he couldn't keep a smirk off his face as he looked at her.
"And? What did they look like? Was it everything you hoped for?" Klaue said with a grin, which only increased when he saw her pout.
"Nah, they just look like these little grey birds, like a sparrow or something. Now! You're going to buy me pizza!"
"I am?" Klaue asked flatly, giving the little girl a look that said not to push her luck.
Shuri, being a girl of twelve, promptly ignored the look.
"Yeah, New York's pizza is supposed to be the best in the world, it says so in the folder, so I wanna try!" Shuri said excitedly, waving around a piece of paper that Klaue recognized from the tourist stands that lined the pier when they arrived by boat a few days ago.
"You know that everything that's on there is a tourist trap, right? Better to go to one of them little places, the authentic ones. Sure, they're not on that map of yours, but I guarantee you that their pizza is way better." Klaue rumbled as they kept on walking at an easy pace.
"Well do you know any of these 'authentic' places?" Shuri asked in a haughty tone, drawing a chuckle out of Klaue.
"Nah, I've only been in New York a couple of times, and most of 'em I spent around the docks, no more than a couple of days. But I do know how to blend into a crowd, and more importantly, how to lose one too. You wanted to become the best killer you could be, right? Then here's an assignment for you: find us a place to eat, without getting spotted on any camera. Got it?"
Seeing Shuri's determined nod, Klaue gave a light laugh, waving her off with his arm.
"Well, go on then!"
With that, Shuri nodded again, before turning on her heel and striding forwards while keeping her eyes up in order to spot any CCTV camera's, intent on completing this challenge with flying colo-
"Again!"
"What?! I just started! There aren't any surveillance cams here, I checked!" Shuri yelled in frustration, and while the strange sentence drew some suspicious looks, people immediately brushed her off as playing a silly game with her guardian as they looked from the little girl with her hands on her hips to the smiling man that walked a few paces behind her.
"I know. But you missed the bunch of tourists on the other side of the street. Congratulations, you just made an appearance on over a dozen pictures." Klaue said with a smile, inclining his head towards where Shuri could spot a large amount of people bundled up in winter clothes, following a tour guide as they kept photographing the splendour of a New York City covered in fresh snow.
Placing his hand on her narrow shoulder, Klaue leaned down with a smile, forcing Shuri to look up at him.
"And that's why we avoid tourist traps. Understood?"
Getting a nod from the little girl, Klaue gave a nod of his own as he straightened and began walking again, forcing Shuri to hurry in order to keep walking ahead of him.
"Now, again!"
Fun Fact: Marvel Comics owned the rights to the word "zombie" from 1975 through 1996, until they realized it was impossible to enforce the trademark.
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