CS: Dead (Cont III)

A few seconds later, the plane touched down, its wheels scorching across the hot tarmack, the body of it cutting through the sweltering, waving mirages that so often rise from excessive heat. The sun burst out again as the plane came to a grinding halt, its engines dying slowly and the running crew arriving to deal with getting the passengers off the plane. The private jet soon was settled and the few passengers slowly stepped down the metal stairs and entered the sun once more.

The man that emerged from the plane was not who they were expecting. He had short, spiky blonde hair that waved in the hot wind that slowly enveloped everything at this time of day and this time of year. He wore sunglasses–small, black, stylish ones that matched his professional demeanor. He wore a brown leather jacket, the kind World War pilots usually wore, a black, designless button down shirt underneath. He wore black pants as well and black shoes that matched the black gloves which one barely noticed him wearing because of the overall blackness of his entire ensemble. He had a fair complexion, not too tanned, not too pale, but what really stood out was his build. He was of fair build, not well built like a titan, not as frail as the infirm, but he was a blend leaning towards the latter half. He carried a single briefcase with him and slowly descended the stairs with the deliberateness of a man who thinks through every action eight minutes before it happens. He slid his sunglasses down for a moment, observing his surrounding and revealing his rather plain brown eyes. For a face free of blemishes and rather striking in its own way, it was not one that a person would remember.

Reno, pushing his skepticism back in his mind, marched out in long strides towards the man who had come off the stairway and now watched the running crew slowly moving everything away with the air of someone who might need to know that in the future. Several of the crew members tried not to stare, there was an aura about the man standing on the ground. He demanded respect without ever asking for it.

“So you the guy?” Reno made his way right up next to the man, slightly wary, but his overconfident chauvenism taking full force and pushing him on.

“That depends on who you are,” the man said firmly.

“Yeah, you’re the guy,” Reno said with a nod of approval. “Come on, let’s get going.”

The man’s hand shot out and caught Reno by the wrist, holding him tight, the grip firm and unwavering. There was no room for struggle. “Identification.” The word was a command, the kind that even Reno did not try to disobey though he detested it nonetheless. Reno’s other hand slowly made its way towards the pocket of his pants, only to be stopped by the man, who plunged his own hand into the pocket and revealed a wallet, opening it and examining the contents. The grip loosened around Reno’s wrist and the man handed back the wallet calmly.

“Can we fuckin go now?” Reno ran his hand through his hair, glossing over his nervousness, the fear and pain that shot through his body from the grip that held him at the wrist. That was not the grip of a human man, that was the grip of someone far removed from humanity.

“Yes.” The man made his way to the back of the car and waited as the trunk was open and he set his briefcase inside, the two large bodyguards stopping him to be frisked. The man held up his arms and no gun was found. The briefcase was not inspected. The two bodyguards slowly made their way back around to the car and ushered their new friend in, making sure that one got on either side of him and that the hammer was back on their sidearms. “There will be no need for guns, gentlemen,” the figure said slowly, “You wouldn’t live long enough to use them.” He did not break his stare forward as the words left his mouth. This was confidence.

Even Reno was impressed by how the man flowed through every single moment of time. The frisk, the accostment, everything seemed in his control. This man was the God of his own life. Reno stared back at him for awhile, a small smile on his face as he formulated conversation topics. “So, they didn’t tell us much about you. There anything you can tell us?”

The man continued to stare forward, “Do you know my name?” The car turned down a sidestreet and continued.

“Yeah,” Reno answered, listening intently for the first time in his life.

“That’s all you need to know.” The words left no room for discussion. There was a finality to every decision that this man made that could not be overlooked or ignored. One of the bodyguards moved a bit further away from him as the limousine continued on its way.