Beyond fate, there is choice
by Ainzfern
12
"Blaine..." Katze pulled in a deep breath, regaining a marginal level of control. He took a deliberate step back from the Elite, his hands lifting in an almost unconsciously defensive gesture. His mind raced, whirling rapidly past options, considering possible outcomes, even as he carefully watched the Platina in front of him, searching for any indication of what his next move might be.
"I am sorry, Katze," Blaine Dal spoke softly and, to Katze, there really did seem to be a genuine note of regret in his rich voice. As the ex-Furniture continued to stare at the Elite, he saw that full mouth curve into a rueful little grimace.
"I am rather embarrassed to say," Blaine continued in that same calm tone as he switched off Katze's cell phone and slipped it into an inside pocket in his sash-coat, "that I completely overlooked the possibility of regular maintenance on the terminals of Jupiter Tower." He shook his head. "Somewhat foolish of me in hindsight; and now you, quite innocent of any wrong-doing, have become involved in a matter that should never have concerned you."
Katze looked askance at him. He stepped sideways a little, trying to keep his movements casual, as if he was just shifting his weight. His stomach sank again when Blaine immediately mirrored the movement, ensuring that he remained between Katze and the exit.
"Involved?" Katze wet his lips, his gaze briefly sweeping the room, noting distances and searching for possible escape routes. He met Blaine's gaze once more, holding it steadily enough for all that he was deeply unnerved by the man's presence here. "It was you, wasn't it?" he asked, clarity forming in his mind. "It was you all along. The break-ins, the notes... even making it look like someone had attacked you," Katze shook his head, his eyes filled with wary confusion. "But why? Why the hell are you doing this?"
Blaine sighed deeply. "I have been working towards a specific purpose for some time now, for reasons I don't wish to share at this moment, suffice to say that they are compelling enough." The Platina's eyes flashed for a second, a disturbing mix of anguish and long-banked rage crossing his features before his controlled and urbane mask descended again. "However... the matter was one between myself and Iason Mink. It is unfortunate that you have been drawn into it. I regret this." He took a step forward, his voice lowering. "Believe me," he murmured, almost sadly, "I do not wish to do you any harm. But neither can I allow you to leave."
Katze swallowed hard, the click of his throat audible in the silence of the office. "You can't be serious," he said shakily, his alarm rising.
Blaine took a slow step forward, his eyes closely watching Katze's every movement. "I'm afraid am very serious, Katze."
"What are planning to do? Huh?" Inexplicably, Katze felt the strangest urge to bark a scornful little laugh. "Just walk out of here with me slung over your fucking shoulder?"
"If it comes to that, yes."
Katze stared at him, filled with disbelief. He met the Platina's eyes with a searching gaze, gauging his seriousness, seeing if he truly meant it.
With a sick sinking feeling roiling in his stomach, Katze realized that Blaine did.
"Raoul will kill you, Blaine," he whispered, shaking his head, dismay washing through him, "Don't you realize that?"
Blaine actually smiled as he nodded, the expression somehow more frightening to Katze than his previous brief flash of rage. "Oh, of that I have no doubt," he lifted one broad shoulder, his manner utterly serene, "but, by then I hope to have achieved my goal, so such an outcome hardly matters." He paused, sighing again. "If you follow my directions, Katze, you will not be harmed... and I have every intention of releasing you once I have achieved my ends," his expression darkened again, his striking eyes gazing inwardly for a moment. "I will never again take an innocent life," he whispered, almost to himself. His gaze abruptly cleared, refocusing on the redhead, "But, if you resist... I will force you. That, of course, would not be my preference, but trust me when I tell you that I am more than capable of compelling you to do as I say."
Katze nodded grimly. "Yeah," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as anger began to overlay his initial sense of dread. He braced himself, subtly shifting his weight once more. "I have no doubt that you are."
"Good," Blaine returned his nod, his stance relaxing slightly. "Then we have an agreement."
That tiny lowering of Blaine's guard was what Katze had been waiting for. He moved suddenly, feinting to the left before immediately doubling back, ducking around the startled Platina as he lunged smoothly towards the door of Iason's office.
If he could just get clear for a second, get into the hallway, break a fire alarm panel or hit the emergency security button... then he might stand a chance of ending this here. Help would come. Of course he was no match, physically, for an Elite, but even Blaine Dal wouldn't be able to drag him out of here through a hallway full of guards.
In the next instant Katze's brief hopes were dashed as he felt Blaine's hands grip into the back of his jacket, wrenching him off his feet as the Elite pulled him backwards. Although his feint had worked to a degree, Katze had underestimated the Platina's lethal speed and, as one of Blaine's arms clamped around his torso, pinning him into place with his back pressed to the Elite's chest, he also realized that he had underestimated the Platina's strength as well. It was something of the Elite nature that he had always been aware of, something that he had even experienced himself in years gone past. But his more recent life with Raoul had changed his perception considerably. Since the beginning of their friendship, and certainly within their intimate relationship, his Blondie had never displayed the sheer depths of his physical power to Katze, neither in anger nor in passion. Thus it was now that the feeling of Blaine's arm confining him, as immovable as an iron bar, was a dreadful and frightening reminder of the significant differences between mongrels and Elites.
Nevertheless, even in the face of that realization, Katze had never been one to simply give up, and so he fought; with every fiber of his being he struggled to escape, arching wildly in Blaine's grip, trying to wrench his body free of the hold that bound him.
Over the sound of his own ragged breathing he heard Blaine's voice, the Platina's tone as level and unaffected as if the effort of confining him took no exertion at all. "You must cease this foolishness, Katze," Blaine said directly into his ear. "I have already warned you."
"To hell with that," Katze spat back at him, both his anger and distress rapidly rising. The very calmness of that voice, the lack of strain in it, infuriated the ex-Furniture. He redoubled his attempts, and with a low sound of effort managed to free one arm, feeling a brief sharp surge of satisfaction when he drove his elbow as hard as he could into the Elite's ribs and heard a soft grunt.
"Enough..." Blaine's voice sharpened abruptly as he gripped Katze's upper arm in an unbreakable grasp. Katze felt himself shoved away and then roughly jerked around to face those suddenly blazing gray eyes. Blaine measured him coldly, then drew back his arm and, getting the muscle of his solid shoulder behind it, struck Katze a single powerful blow to the side of the head.
Stunned, the ex-Furniture stumbled sideways then dropped to his knees, planting one hand on the floor to steady himself. His ears rang, white light bursting behind his eyes. The room grayed for a moment as Katze shook his head, panting harshly, trying to clear his senses, feeling pain beginning to bloom through his skull. As he staggered to his feet, he felt a strong grasp twist into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling painfully, dragging his head back. He cried out, rage and despair in his voice as he lifted his hands, reaching for Blaine's face, one shaking hand managing to grip a lock of thick silver hair and wrenching at it as hard as he could.
But it was too late. Without so much as a single reaction to Katze's desperate resistance, Blaine set his jaw and pressed a cloth over Katze's nose and mouth, holding it there while the redhead thrashed in his grip and tried to twist his face away. The cloth was soaked with something, Katze's hazed mind realized with terror, something that smelt sickeningly sweet and cloying. His struggles began to weaken, soft muffled sounds of panic rising up in his throat.
The room spun and blurred. Katze's hands fell limply to his sides as the drugged-soaked cloth did its work. He fought to stay conscious, even as his sight darkened, even as he felt the strength leaving his limbs and Blaine lowering him down to the floor.
Then everything just faded into blackness, and Katze knew no more...
Gently, almost tenderly, Blaine Dal laid Katze down on his side. He knelt over the insensible mongrel for a moment, checking his pulse, listening to his breathing and assuring himself that the redhead was simply unconscious. Absently, his large gray eyes staring almost blankly down at Katze's recumbent figure, he reached out with one long fingered hand and pushed the tousled red hair off Katze's brow. He sighed, deeply, his eyes closing for a moment, before he got to his feet, staring across the office at the far wall, his mind racing.
This was not what he had wanted. This was not what he has planned. Raoul's mate was never meant to be a part of this. Indeed, he had not planned to actually take any action at all until two days from now.
But it was far too late to change anything. He was committed this course of action by the very fact that Katze now knew he was the one responsible for the recent incidents aimed at creating doubt against Iason Mink's leadership. And, as he stood there, precious moments passing while he thought his way through his next moves, he realized that this turn of events could indeed still be directed towards his own advantage. True, Katze was not the mongrel he had planned to take. But he was Raoul Am's Companion. He was still of great value to Iason Mink, just for that fact alone.
Yes... Blaine nodded, turning towards Iason's desk and swiftly approaching the terminal, leaning down over the keyboard. Yes, he could still use this. It would not, of course, contain the serendipitous elegance of actually taking Iason's own mate, but Iason would still have to come to him in order to free the redhead.
And he would do it. Blaine was sure of that. Iason and Raoul's enduring friendship was something of a legend amongst the Elite. Not only did Iason already have a history with Katze himself, but if the Syndicate leader valued his second in command's heart at all, which by all accounts was indeed the case, then he would act to save Raoul's mate as decisively as he would act to save his own.
Nodding, Blaine wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and began to key a sequence of rapid instructions into the terminal. Using an override code, he accessed the main security hard-drives and spent a few brief moments tapping in instructions, deleting the records of the last few moments and replacing them with a section of security data recorded earlier in the evening. As he completed his task, he moved back to Katze and stood staring down at him, breathing deeply, a certain grim satisfaction on his flawless face.
It wasn't perfect, by any means. A sharp enough eye would be able to pick that the security logs had been tampered with. But the incriminating footage was now gone, and that was all that really mattered.
Outside of the rather comely young red-headed mongrel lying at his feet, no one as yet knew that he was anything other than an unfortunate victim of an unknown assailant. Giving himself a little shake, Blaine moved around the office once more, gathering up Katze's belongings and righting any furnishings or fittings that had been knocked over during his brief but rather one-sided fight with the ex-Furniture, removing any obvious signs of struggle. Then, as carefully as he had lowered Katze to the floor, he knelt and gathered the mongrel into his arms, lifting him as easily as one might lift a child. Hefting him into a more secure hold, he left the office with long swift strides, leaving nothing to mark his passing but the faint and fading scent of Katze's sweat.
As he stood close to Iason's side in the smoothly ascending lift of Eos Tower, Riki stifled a yawn, resting his head back for a moment against the wall behind him. He was tired, that much was true. It had been a long day, but the evening's function actually hadn't been too bad – as sumptuously hosted political events went. The fact that he had spent the greater part of the night with Chey Neeson's federation senate staff was an undeniable bonus. He couldn't help liking interacting with federation folks, he decided, smiling softly as he straightened once more... they were all so refreshingly un-Amoian.
As the lift approached Raoul Am's floor, Riki turned his gaze to Iason's dearest friend, and Syndicate second, as Raoul turned to face them both.
"A most satisfactory day, I feel," the Blondie remarked, clasping arms with Iason for a moment in that peculiarly reserved Elite gesture of fondness.
Nodding regally, the warmth of his pale eyes belying the composure of his face, Iason tightened his grip on Raoul's forearm for a moment. "Indeed, my friend." His rich mouth curved into a tiny smile, a gently teasing note entering his satin voice. "You're most singular popularity amongst Chey's retinue was certainly a highlight."
Raoul's splendid eyes sparkled with humor. "Hmm," he flicked a friendly glance in Riki's direction. "I must confess, you very nearly lost the both of us back there."
Riki snorted softly, as the lift doors opened to the lobby of Raoul's apartment level.
Iason released his arm, a low chuckle rising in his chest. "Yes, Chey did warn me of the possibility of matronly abductors."
With a weary but genuinely affectionate smile, Raoul nodded his goodnights, reaching out to briefly clasp Riki's shoulder before exiting the lift. As it continued, Riki heard Iason vent a soft sigh, part weariness and part relief, as the Blondie almost unconsciously slid one arm across the mongrel's shoulders, pulling him in to his side.
"Raoul's a good guy, isn't he?" Riki noted softly.
"He is that."
"Y'know, it's funny," Riki rested his head against Iason's shoulder for a moment, "but even only a couple of years ago, I never would have said that."
Iason shifted a little, looking down at him with one elegant brow raised. He huffed a soft sound of agreement after a moment. "Yes," his tone was calmly shrewd, "I know. But perception changes with experience, I suppose... and familiarity."
"That's true," Riki yawned as the lift doors opened onto the penthouse level. "I know I've changed in myself but..." he flashed a rueful little grin, "I guess tonight was the first time I really saw just how much Raoul had changed as well. He's more..." Riki shrugged as they neared the apartment's main entrance, searching for the right description.
"Approachable to you?" Iason suggested lightly.
"Yeah," Riki smiled, turning to face his Blondie, his dark eyes searching Iason's perfect face. "I think Raoul being with Katze has had a lot to do with that. I mean, I know that I made him uncomfortable for a long time, even after Dana Bahn," Riki's grin grew slightly wicked, "but it's obvious he doesn't have a problem anymore with your mongrel, now that he lives with one of his own."
Iason laughed softly, his flawless face filled with amusement. "You do have a peculiarly succinct way with words at time, Riki."
"I'm right though, aren't I?"
Iason simply smiled at him as he keyed in the security code to the apartment and opened the door.
Back at the penthouse, they settled for a rather weary routine of changing out of their formal clothes, and a few minutes of rest with a glass of wine or – in Riki's case – a cigarette, while conducting an idle conversation that's only purpose was to relax them. It was some half an hour after they had returned, and they were just sitting down to a light supper prepared by Dane, when a comm unit called.
"Raoul," Iason greeted his friend, seeing his face on the screen.
"That's weird," Riki muttered to himself as he walked the terminal as well. "We only just left him." Coming to a stop closely behind his Blondie, he could see that Raoul's beautiful face wore a disquiet and drawn expression of worry.
"Is something amiss?" Iason asked.
Raoul took a deep breath. "Katze has not returned home and he is not answering his cell phone."
Riki felt his guts tighten. That wasn't like Katze. If the ex-Furniture was anything, it was reliable.
Iason was frowning deeply. "Did you not receive a message from him earlier this evening?"
"Yes," Raoul wet his lips. "He sent a text to tell me that he would be stopping off at Jupiter Tower to complete some maintenance on some of the terminals on the executive levels." He shook his head. "I have contacted Tower security. Apparently his pass registered him entering the building, and his vehicle is still in the basement lot, but there is no record of him leaving."
Riki bit his lower lip, thinking rapidly. "Then he's still there, right?"
"I... I do not know," Raoul shook his head again. "Security tried the intercom system when I first called." His face grew very grim. "They couldn't raise him on any of the office levels. They are conducting a search of the building right now."
Iason and Riki shared a brief but loaded glance. Riki nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.
"Raoul," the Elite said firmly, turning back to the screen, "I believe it might be best if we were present at Jupiter Tower ourselves at this juncture. Riki and I will collect you shortly."
Raoul's face showed a tiny flash of relief before the taut anxiety returned. "Thank you, my friend," he replied before cutting the link.
"I've got a real bad feeling about this, Iason," Riki muttered as he followed Iason towards the front door.
"I am afraid I rather share your pessimism," Iason pulled his own cell phone from inside his sash coat, flipping it open as they headed to the lift. "I will call Mace and have him and Commander Hadren meet us there," he lifted the phone, scrolling rapidly through the quick-dial numbers, stepping in as the lift doors slid back, "and I believe I will call Chey as well. I feel his counsel might be useful to us."
"Good idea," Riki murmured almost absently, staring wide-eyed at the floor. He could literally feel the waves of upset flowing off Iason towards him. This was more than just deep worry over Katze's uncharacteristic disappearance. Riki had seen something in Iason's eyes back when Raoul had first told them about the situation. A bleak, almost expectant look had crossed his face.
A look that, to Riki, clearly suggested that his Blondie already had a theory behind why Raoul couldn't contact the ex-Furniture.
A theory that he very obviously did not like at all.
"Iason?" he asked looking up at his Blondie.
Iason's pale eyes turned to him.
"Do you think this might have something to do with the shit that's been happening recently? All this Midas break-in crap?"
The Elite's face became very grave as he stared into Riki's worried eyes with something close to chagrin. "I hope not, Riki," he said softly, pressing the dial button on his phone. "I sincerely hope not."
Beyond fate... – chapter 11 << >> Beyond fate... – chapter 13