xp_logs | Early morning phone call

x-juggernaut.livejournal.com posting in

Set early in the morning after the Hellfire Club gala:

The phone rang once, twice, and began on a third before Cain Marko's hand slapped one end of it, flipping the handset into the air. Catching it with a practiced flair, he placed the receiver to his ear, gesturing with the TV remote to pause the movie he'd been watching. The ring hadn't been an interior line, so it was most likely Hodge calling. At five in the morning on a Sunday?

"Marko."

"Mister Marko. This is Sebastian Shaw. I hope I didn't wake you from your weekend."

"Mister Shaw, hey," Cain patted absently over the end table next to the sofa he was sprawled on. He'd managed to find some oversized furniture for the boathouse, things that he could fit in comfortably. "No, I've been up for a bit. There some problem with those stock transfers?"

"No, Mister Marko. Your seneschal Hodge has handled those with distinction and aplomb."

Cain's brow furrowed. "My what?"

"Oh, pardon me." Shaw's deep laugh came across the phone line, tinged with embarassment. "I do have this annoying habit to use rather outdated aphorisms when I am in a state, you could say. I mean your assistant, the man who handles your financial endeavors," Shaw explained, "Somewhat of a wunderkind, is he not?"

"Yeah," Cain drawled, "he's a genius. Something on your mind I can help you with, Mister Shaw?"

"I will be blunt, Mister Marko. It is the matter of your state of employment."

"My job?" Cain was puzzled. "Mister Shaw, begging your pardon, but I don't see how my job affects our business arrangement. If you're concerned about how I came into money-"

"No, Mister Marko. You misunderstand me. I am aware of your position as caretaker of the Xavier estate, a fine educational institution in addition to being a historic residence. Am I correct in my deductions that you reside on the premises?"

Cain rolled his eyes, finding his level of trust in Sebastian Shaw dropping by degrees. He'd made it a point to have an ingrained dislike of anyone who used more words than they had to to make a simple point. "Yeah, I live here. So?"

"Mister Marko, I would like to offer you a position in my employ."

"Thanks, but I'm happy with what I've got now," Cain replied, "And I ain't much for financial hoo-hah."

"I suppose that I can respect that, Mister Marko. Nevertheless, I believe that I can offer you a significant sum of money for a favor, Mister Marko. Your employer, Charles Xavier, has something that belongs to me. I am prepared to pay handsomely for its return."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Xavier stole something from you, huh?" He glanced over at the caller ID box. The digital readout scrolled "UNKNOWN NUMBER" Cain swore under his breath, going to his window to peer out at the mansion, still dark in the pre-dawn hours. "What is it you're missing, Mister Shaw?"

"My pride, Mister Marko. Something not easily stolen from a man, and all the more valued when it is regained."

Cain snorted. "My mistake, I thought you were being blunt here. You got thirty seconds, Shaw. Say your piece."

Shaw's voice came back with a furious intensity, almost barking orders in a harsh whisper. "I know that my son is there, Mister Marko. Under the care of one Emma Grace Frost. Shinobi and I have unfinished business that I would like concluded. I am willing to pay you to facilitate this."

Bracing the phone against his shoulder, Cain reached into his closet, rifling through a set of DVDs until he found the one he was looking for. Sliding it into his player, he fiddled with the remote, fast-forwarding while he listened to Shaw's demand.

"Seems to me that by the laws of this here state, Sebastian, your boy's a grown man. Don't see why you need my help to get in touch with him." He flicked his thumb over the remote, pausing the DVD in a close-up of R. Lee Ermey's red-cheeked face.

"Mister Marko, I do not desire merely a phone conversation with my son, else I would be speaking to him and not to you. I wish my son, preferably in the company of Ms. Frost, present at a location I dictate. For arranging this, I can reward you most handsomely, Mister Marko."

Cain smiled. "That sounds a lot like kidnapping, Sebastian. Can't much say I like where that could lead. Hey, I got a quick question for you. You ever been to Texas?"

Shaw's voice came back slightly confused. "I own a vacation ranch in Corpus Christi, Mister Marko. I fail to see how that impacts our-"

Cain held the receiver up to the speaker of his television, releasing the Pause button as Gunnery Sergeant Hartman's strident bellow came from his remastered DVD of Full Metal Jacket:

"Holy dogshit! Texas! Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy! And you don't look much like a steer to me, so that kinda narrows it down! Do you suck dick? Are you a peter-puffer? I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around! I'll be watching you!"

Cain paused the film once more, chuckling under his breath. He heard nothing but silence from the other end of the line, then:

"That was rather puerile and sophomoric, Mister Marko. You may regret declining my offer."

Cain's smile vanished, replaced by a steel-eyed glare focused on the darkness outside his window. "You listen to me, boy," he hissed back at Sebastian, "you obviously only found out two things about me, jack and shit. You think some pansy-ass veiled threat's gonna make me run around like your errand boy? For what, you throwing money in my face? Shaw, I almost bought out a seat on your board last week, you think your money's going to move me? Fuck you, and fuck the silver spoon you've got up your ass, Sebastian. You say I'm going to regret this?" Cain's mouth split in a slow smile.

"Son, I've been looking for something to regret doing, and this might as well be it."

"So be it, Mister Marko. I believe that any future dealing I have with you shall be conveyed through my attorney. I bid you good day, and sincerely apologize for wasting both our time."

"Yeah, and fuck you very much, too." Cain spoke, before being interrupted by the dial tone. Slowly, he placed the phone back on the cradle and resumed his slouch on the sofa. Gesturing once more with the remote, Cain laughed uproariously at the drill sergeant, far softer then his time with Gunnery Sergeant Castiglione back on Paris Island, berate Private Pyle loudly and abusively.

"God, this movie keeps gettin' funnier..." he mumbled to no one in particular, putting the phone conversation out of his mind as he laughed out loud at another line.