un_fallen | (no subject)

Raguel is lurking.

He has a purpose, more or less, beyond staring at the lights high above in the devil's tower. He does come here just for recreation occasionally; he knows Rosse's office, after all - knows from the outside which window is hidden behind the solid-looking hologram. Sometimes he catches them as they tumble out of it, screaming, flailing for the safety of solid brick. Objects in space. The ones that fall alone are luckier, of course. He should know.

But there are other reasons for being here: business, not recreation. It just so happens that the alleyway beside Rosse's ridiculously large and ostentatious (to Raguel, anyway) building is usually crawling with leads. Maybe because it's very difficult to get to the transports without going through the alley. You'd have to go three blocks to avoid it, and time is always of the essence when someone leaves Rosse's office. Besides, shortcuts are so tempting.

He fancies himself as really pretty good at this lurking thing. Black blends well with the many shadows, and it's a chilly evening. Perfect.

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His eyebrows go up.

"No dirt." He laughs, but there's no humor in his face.

"Provoking the leaders of a known militant revolutionary cult. Stockpiling and providing weapons for a system-wide war - publicly."

He takes a few steps away from the wall, staring around the alley as though it's full of rapt spectators and he needs to make eye contact with every one.

"Maybe public, my friends, is the problem. Public doesn't see what's staring it in the face. Not that all of it is public. Not mentioning his various associations with mercenary figures and other illegal... illicit... ill-advised... activities."

He's very close to Carson now, but not looking at him directly.

"The public doesn't see that, they don't care, but -- that legislation -- it's not good governance. And it will end in bloodshed."

Carson is speaking to Raguel's shoes.

"It's inevitable."

"Correct," he says darkly, "and I believe that's where I come in."

Carson glances up swiftly.

Nods.

"You've been tapped?"

He'll be good at it.

"Tapped. Tam-tam tapped. Suppose you could put it that way." He hums a few bars of something, but the tune is indistinguishable.

"Can't pretend you didn't guess," he adds eventually, chucking Carson lightly under the chin.

Carson flinches, moves back instinctively.

"Are we done?" Cold, and a little high-pitched.

Raguel snaps back to attention.

"Bored?" he asks, picks up Carson by way of a fist in the man's jacket, and tosses him into the wall of Rosse's building.

"Don't believe you were finished."

"You said you wouldn't -- "

He stops short before saying kill me; best not to give him ideas.

"Please -- "

"I don't think I said I wouldn't anything."

He kicks his way through the alley detritus to where Carson is slumped. Garbage and scrap metal clatters and bangs across the asphalt in front of him. Several pieces narrowly miss Carson's head.

"You didn't finish."

A hand comes up to ward off anything that might make it to his face.

"Finish -- what else do you need to know?"

"Schedules. Weaknesses. Defenses," he rattles off, still kicking his way over.

"So far all we've talked about is confirmations of old information. C'mon, tell me something I don't know."

Fred Atwood told Hal Carson one more thing.

"He's going to be in an open area. Soon. There's some -- thing -- for the Family and Life Support Center, and he's giving the keynote. Outdoors."

Raguel sighs and comes to a halt.

"Now where's the challenge," he asks, "if you're just going to fold like that?"

Carson looks -- squints -- up.

"I want to leave. Alive." Petulant.

"Ah," he says, noncommittal.

He reaches a hand down to the man, presumably to help him to his feet.

There's a good, long, hesitant pause before Carson takes it.

In one smooth motion Raguel hoists him to his feet. He stares into Carson's frightened eyes for a moment, appraising.

"See you around, pal," he says at last, and gives Carson a smacking kiss on the cheek.

There's a flash of bright, reddish light.

It burns.

One minute later, Hal Carson blinks, and looks around.

Nobody's there.

Which would make sense, really; nobody was in the alley when he came this way. But it's not wise to linger in the shadows, even on Londinium, where there are eyes everywhere.

He picks himself up, dusts himself off, and goes home.