To thine own self
by Ainzfern
6
Standing in the deserted hallway outside of Katze's lower Midas apartment, Raoul frowned deeply and heaved an almost impatient sigh. He was still not entirely convinced that coming here would be of any benefit to him whatsoever. He was, in fact, almost entirely certain that what he was about to do would prove to be just another monumentally ill-advised move and an open invitation to personal embarrassment.
Upon leaving Iason's penthouse, he had immediately called for his driver and instructed the man to bring him here. In hindsight, Raoul wondered if the impulsiveness of that act might not have been subconsciously deliberate. He could not help but think that, had he given the notion just a moment's thought, he would never have made this trip.
Because, while Iason had assured him that Katze would be willing to forgive Raoul's regrettable behavior towards him, Raoul himself was not so certain.
It was the memory of Katze's face, the way that he had just stood there while Raoul unleashed his vitriol; verbally flaying him alive with just a few carefully chosen, perfectly vicious, words. The way his eyes had dulled, how the blood had left his cheeks and how that empty, unsurprised expression had settled across his scarred features.
The terrible acceptance Raoul had seen there. As if Katze had simply expected no better.
If he lived to be a century old, Raoul knew that he was never forget the look on that pale face.
Making his mind up at last, Raoul lifted one elegant hand and pressed the buzzer beside the door. He waited, as patiently as he could, guessing that Katze would visually verify his visitor by means of the security video feed above the door. As the moment began to expand outward, Raoul actually had the fleeting thought that Katze might decide to simply ignore him.
He felt a brief flash of chagrin as he realized that he hadn't actually considered that possibility.
When a dull click from the door indicated that Katze had, in fact, released the security locks, Raoul carefully schooled his expression, masking any obvious show of relief as he stepped inside the interior of Katze's private living space for the first time.
The main area was only dimly lit but Raoul saw Katze immediately, standing by a terminal covered desk against the wall, one hand still resting on a control panel where he had obviously been operating the security system to allow Raoul to enter. He was dressed quite simply in a loose shapeless sweater and a pair of worn track-pants. His feet were bare, Raoul noticed absently. There seemed, to him, something almost vulnerable about that odd little fact.
For a moment, the ex-Furniture simply stared at him, his shadowed face giving away nothing. Then he slowly straightened, assuming a visible stance of appropriate respect.
For some reason, seeing him do that actually caused a small stab of pain to whisper through Raoul's chest.
"Master Am," Katze greeted him, his tone carefully neutral. "I wasn't actually aware you knew my address."
Raoul lifted one broad shoulder. "Ah. I imposed upon Iason for that. I hope you don't mind."
If Katze was surprised by the revelation, he did not show it. "I'm guessing that there's some kind of problem at the Bio-Lab?"
"Actually... no." Raoul moved a little further into the room, a little closer to his clearly unwilling host. "I am here regarding another matter entirely."
"I see." Katze nodded and wet his lips, his eyes flicking briefly towards the door of his apartment. "Well, Master Am, how may I be of assistance?"
Lifting one hand in a vaguely conciliatory gesture, Raoul sighed softly. "It's not necessary to call me that, Katze."
"It was yesterday," Katze immediately replied, his face tightening.
"Yes. Well." Shoulders stiff with deep discomfort, Raoul walked across to the windows of the apartment, briefly pushing back a section of curtaining so that he could glance out at the fading afternoon light. He cleared his throat, turning to face Katze once more. "As you know, the prototype of the portable amniotic tank will be unveiled at Partia the night after tomorrow and, of course, seeing as you had such a significant input into the success of the conversion, I think it would be only fitting that you be there."
"Oh." Katze nodded, one shoulder lifting slightly, his face still guarded and deliberately composed.
"If you would care to attend I would most certainly wish you to be there," Raoul continued.
Katze sighed, lifting his chin to stare appraisingly at Raoul. "What... as your tech for the night?"
"No." Raoul's gaze flicked around the room briefly, noting the Spartan interior, the lack of color and texture. For some reason the fact that Katze apparently lived such a frugal existence even though his business interests must have made him least independently wealthy caused another brief stab of sorrow to run through him. It was almost as if Katze appeared to have nothing in his life outside of his work that attracted him enough to spend his money.
"No," Raoul repeated softly, "I would actually like to you attend as my guest, my companion, for the evening."
Katze stared at him, his expression a shifting myriad of emotions, from disbelief and honest confusion, finally settling into a dull and empty look of defeat. He broke Raoul's gaze, an almost shattered sigh escaping from his chest. "I can't," he whispered, almost to himself, staring blankly at the floor in front of his feet. "I can't do this."
Frowning with concern, Raoul stepped forward slightly, stopping when Katze abruptly looked up at him, his eyes pained and desperately weary.
"I can't keep up, Raoul," Katze continued in a strained voice. "I just... I'm not built for this kind of thing."
Raoul blinked, startled and vaguely disturbed to hear the very comment he had made about himself to Iason, coming from Katze's lips. "Katze, I can assure you, my invitation is sincere."
"Is it?" Katze's expression grew more agitated. "For how long? When will you change your mind again?" He shook his head, a slow flush crossing his scarred face. "I mean, yesterday you as good as spat at my feet, and now you're suddenly asking me out on a date? I can't keep up! I don't get you, y'know? I can't read you. And I don't know, now, whether the next time I come near you – am I gonna get a smile or a slap in the face?"
"I am sorry." Raoul words were soft, and absolutely sincere. "I am sorry, Katze."
"You... What?" Katze reared back a little, shock in his eyes.
"The manner in which I spoke to you yesterday," Raoul raised his chin, speaking with a kind of massive dignity; "The way that I... attacked you. It was utterly uncalled for."
Katze's eyes narrowed doubtfully.
"And it was utterly untrue," Raoul added quietly. He lifted one broad shoulder and moved forward again, smiling ever so slightly as a rueful sense of irony rose in his stomach. "In fact... I have come to realize that I very nearly destroyed something quite valuable because I was unwise enough to listen to the asinine words of a farcically snobbish fool like Tahna Lam."
Katze snorted, actually looking amused for a moment, much to Raoul's relief. "Tahna Lam?" he echoed, shaking his head. "That total ass?"
Raoul chuckled. "You know, that's the second time today that I've heard him described in that particular manner."
Katze sobered suddenly, moving away once more with a slight shade of unease rising in his eyes. He turned to his desk, reaching out and shifting things here and there on the desk-top with restless hands. "So, uhm..." he paused a moment, starting at his consol screen, "so what made you change your mind?" he asked, almost too casually.
"I had an opportunity to assess my priorities," Raoul replied, moving up closely behind Katze.
Katze's breath hitched, just slightly, as he lifted his head to stare at the wall behind his desk. "I'm a priority of yours?" he asked in a careful tone.
"I can understand why you would believe otherwise, Katze," Raoul answered soothingly, moving to stand directly behind the red-head. "But yes... you are."
Pulling in a deep breath, Raoul lifted both hands, hesitating for a second before laying them lightly on Katze's tense shoulders. He squeezed gently, strangely enjoying the warmth of the human mongrel's flesh under his fingers. He was gratified to observe Katze shiver slightly; to hear his breathing halt, just for an instant, as the contact affected him, too. It was a moment like this, Raoul reflected suddenly; seeing a simple touch actually quiver through Katze's body, and feeling an almost pure kind of satisfaction to know that he had caused it, which almost made him understand why Iason held his physical intimacy with Riki in such high regard.
An impossible situation, Raoul had to confess, but a compelling one, nonetheless.
Slowly, he turned Katze to face him, waiting until the slighter man looked up and met his eyes.
"I would also understand that you might find this difficult to believe, as well," Raoul smiled sadly, "But I want you to know, Katze... I will not turn on you again."
Katze's eyes were filled with a peculiar mix of disbelief and hope. "You're sure?"
Raoul nodded, sure and serene, feeling much more composed and internally balanced in this single moment than he ever had over the past few months. "I am," he said, nodding firmly once more. He arched an elegant brow, his head tilting quizzically. "So... will you come to Partia with me the night after tomorrow?"
After another moment of hesitation, Katze's shoulders drooped under Raoul's hands, almost in a gesture of defeat. He nodded his acquiescence, his expression becoming fatalistic rather than relieved. "Sure," he answered tiredly. "Why not? I'll be there."
Raoul marked that look, accepting it's presence as an undeniable after-effect of the emotional wounding Katze had received at Raoul's hand. Katze obviously cared enough to agree to his request, to accept his word, at least for the moment, but he still wasn't actually happy.
A matter of trust, perhaps...
Well, he could be patient when circumstances called for it, Raoul told himself pragmatically. He could afford to take his time to ensure Katze's good regard once more.
Even as that thought crossed his formidable mind, Raoul very nearly shook his head at the wonder of his realization. Iason had been right. He had changed. So subtly that he'd barely even noticed the transition, but it was nevertheless completely true. He, Raoul Am, a Blondie Elite to his elegant fingertips had changed to the point where the good opinion of a little mongrel ex-Furniture actually mattered to him.
How extraordinary...
Slowly, almost regretfully, Raoul let his hands slide from Katze's shoulders. "Shall I collect you before the function, or would you rather meet me there?"
Katze shrugged slightly. "Either way."
"Very well," Raoul adjusted his long coat, neatening it across his shoulders in preparation of leaving. "I shall come by about an hour before the event to pick you up."
"Okay."
"Dress will be formal, of course."
"I know. I can manage that."
"Yes. Well." Raoul took one more fleeting look around Katze's apartment before gesturing at the terminals on Katze's desk. "I shall leave you to your work. Have a pleasant evening." He turned away then, swiftly striding to the door.
It was as he was reaching to open it that Katze spoke again, stopping Raoul in his tracks.
"Raoul?"
Turning slightly to look over his shoulder, Raoul nodded. "Yes?"
Katze smiled at him. It was only slight, a wan and tired effort, but still a smile. "You have a good evening too," he said softly, a wealth of feeling in his voice. "If I get a chance, I'll try and send my next move in the game through to you tonight, okay?"
Raoul's throat seemed oddly tight for some reason. "I would like that, Katze. Thank you." With one final nod, he quietly let himself out.
It was a small group of well dressed and grim-faced men who had gathered in this non-descript little office in the basement of their corporate headquarters deep within the federation government's territory. Although they were located within the worlds governed by the federation, their corporation operated independently from it.
United Industries, a combined private enterprise, conducted business dealings with both federation government agencies and Amoian world trade leaders, competing with their counterparts from both regimes and having their fair share of successes and failures in those endeavors.
At least on the surface, legally, that was what they did.
But there was another level of business that they were desperate to enter, a level that was not regulated by official trade agreements and consumer coding. A potentially highly profitable line of business the name of which, of course, none of the men gathered here in this office wanted to use.
Nevertheless... they all knew why they were here.
The black market.
Specifically, the Amoi black market.
Several months ago, in a top-secret board meeting that officially never occurred; this group of specially chosen men had been given rather clear instructions.
"Get United Industries into the market by whatever means necessary."
By whatever means necessary...
These were men who were quite adept at extemporizing on that manner of instruction. They might have worn the fine suits, the expensive jewelry... they might have carried neat attaché cases and little golden clickable pens and talked seriously about market share and financial acumen, but they were not gentlemen.
There were certainly businessmen, however.
Of a particular type.
So they had begun. Sourcing contacts, networking, making enquiries, arranging meetings with known associates of the Amoi market to offer 'alternatives' to what was currently available.
They had been met with an astonishing lack of success.
Wherever they went, the Amoi market had already been there. Whoever they talked to had already signed contracts, which inevitably undercut their own offers by a small but significant percentage, with the Amoi market.
They were starting to get frustrated. And frustrated men were dangerous men.
It had taken some effort, but their sources had eventually acquired a name for their torment. No title, no suffix... just a single name.
Katze.
Thus far, that was all they really had for certain. Other details were sketchy and incomplete at best. Katze had apparently arrived into the black market some few years back. Appearing from nowhere, he had given the market the reordering of its life. He had taken a fractious, fragmented shambles of infighting gangs and thuggish over-indulged King-Pins and had, somehow, forced it to come together as one unit.
He had tightened it up and sloughed off the dead-wood, streamlined its operations, sharpened its claws and had then unleashed it directly at the throats of its competitors.
Obviously, he was well connected... had a powerful network.
But with whom?
How?
Who the hell was he?
The gathered group knew that, unless they could find out, their enterprise didn't stand a chance.
This evening, however, they finally had cause for hope. The latest in a series of corporate files that had been compromised by an obviously talented hacker, their most serious breach so far, was slowly being untangled by a code-breaking specialist of their own; a pasty-faced young man whom they had managed to recruit right out of a federation penitentiary where he had been serving several years for cyber-crime, ironically enough.
If they were able to trace Katze's hacker, which their newest employee assured them was quite possible; they would be able to track where the stolen information had been sent.
All things being equal, once they knew the 'who's' and the 'where's', they could dispatch a rather shady team of associates, chosen for their lack of squeamishness and their talent for delivering a certain rough and deadly type of persuasion, to deal with their problem. They would be able to dispose of this mysterious 'Katze', and his clever little hacker, in very short order.
But for now, they simply waited until their little technical genius completed his delicate work.
They were all quite satisfied that the situation would be rectified before too much longer.
To thine own self – chapter 5 << >> To thine own self – chapter 7