Chapter Text
‘Do you always bring your dates to the basement?’ The man asks, his face relaxed as he leans back in the bathtub. If anyone looked at him, they would think he was on holiday, having a good time at the spa, completely in control of the situation.
There is not a hint of fear, or discomfort in his face. Agust doesn’t get it.
This always works – you take the target to the basement, a filthy and claustrophobic place with an off-putting contrast between uncomfortably harsh lighting and eerie shadows. You put them in the bathtub, one way or another. You fill the tub with cold water, as cold as it can be without causing them a temperature shock, and then you point a gun at them. If they do not do what you say, or answer your questions, you waterboard them in the water they lay in. It’s an uncomfortable position, being folded over like that. It’s degrading, distressing, it can be outright painful. And it always works.
But this guy doesn’t look fazed. He didn’t look fazed when he was brought in, when he was forced into the bathtub, when the water was poured on him, and he most definitely does not seem to give a single fuck about the gun pointed at his head.
Agust has not waterboarded him yet, but he might. He doesn’t like his cocky attitude one bit. It’s disrespectful.
The man then brushes a hand through his hair and sighs, looking around with curiosity, ‘It’s not a very nice place. It has potential though, just needs more natural lighting.’
‘You set fire to my car.’
‘Says who?’ The man immediately retorts, smirking at Agust, ‘God?’
‘My men saw you do it.’
‘How did they know it was me?’
Agust looks up and down at the man, who is wearing a white full-length sleeve jumpsuit, almost like the ones painters use. He has a white vest underneath, visible through the opening of the garment, and a thin chain hanging around his neck. He has dark eyeshadow smudged around his eyes, but perfectly arranged black hair. His face is aesthetically pleasing, in an unconventional way. His features come together in a melodic manner, in a way that makes him almost alluring. He most definitely looks like the man his guards described. The other knows it too.
‘I see you’re checking me out, but I’m actually not interested.’
Agust bites his tongue. He takes the other man by the hair with his left hand and pulls it back to see if he can intimate him with his grip, but the man just seems to smile at the pain. Fucking freak.
‘Why did you do it?’ Agust asks, his tone steady.
Agust immediately saw the act as a threat, or a taunt. It has to be, and yet the man only shrugs.
‘It was an old piece of junk. It looked better on fire.’
Agust tightens his hold on the man’s hair, ‘Do you know what I do to shitheads like you who mess with me?’ He rasps lowly, now pressing the gun directly against the man’s temple.
The other man swallows, grinning defiantly, ‘Fuck them?’
Agust could just shoot him. He clearly did it, and that sort of thing would have gotten anyone else killed. He doesn’t put up with taunts, or threats or intimidations. But that might be a brash decision, and Agust is not brash – he did not get anywhere being brash. Brash is for street thieves and small town drug dealers. Brash is what this man is, and why he got caught in the first place.
He’s brash. Agust could use that.
Agust thinks about it for a second and then quirks his chin at RM – his right-hand man - signalling for him, and the rest of his men, to leave. They were scattered around the room, in case things got out of control. They look at each other with some confusion, but when RM promptly leaves, they also move to the exit, one by one. The last one closes the door behind him.
Agust takes out a pack of cigarettes from his trousers, the box flattened from sitting in his pocket, and plucks one out. He lights it, and takes a drag from it. He looks at the man again. The man looks back at him with open curiosity, still confident, still unafraid.
‘You act alone?’
He looks like he is unsure if he should be honest or say one of his little half-witted answers. In the end he says, ‘Yeah. I don’t do teams.’
‘Neither do I.’ Agust says, letting the cig sit between his lips as he lifts the gun back up to the man’s head. He still doesn’t trust the fucker. ‘You’re an arsonist, aren’t you?’
‘I can do a lot of things, but I suppose if I were a chef, that would be my speciality.’
‘You ever got caught? Besides today?’
‘If I did, I wouldn’t be here.’
Agust continues to look at him, completely unamused. The man chuckles, and adds, ‘No, I don’t tend to burn gangster’s cars.’
He says that, but the glint in his eyes lets Agust know that’s actually probably not true. He probably likes to cause trouble.
‘What do you usually do?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’
Agust exhales, and smoke comes out in thin smoky lines through his mouth and nose. The man looks at him for a second, like he is assessing him, and then reaches forward. Agust thinks he is going for the gun, and he is ready to shoot, but the other actually reaches for the cigarette. Agust lets him, wants to see what he does. He can’t light Agust on fire, the room has nothing flammable in it and his clothes are safe, so he just sees what he does.
The man takes a puff from the cigarette, a drawn-out drag, like he hasn’t smoked in a long time, and then he does something Agust doesn’t expect.
He blows the smoke in Agust’s direction. Agust almost flinches at the smoke, the stuff burning his eyes and obstructing his lungs for a second. The man smiles right after doing it, as if he is amused, and then takes another drag.
‘You know, I don’t give a shit if you kill me. So if you’re going to, just fucking do it. But if you want me to work for you, or whatever, then just say so. I can do that for the right price.’
Agust wants to kill him. He really does, because the fucker has disrespected him in about twenty different ways from burning his car, to blowing smoke in his fucking face. But Agust has a very good asset in his hands – a man who is deranged, willing to do anything for the right price, and who Agust can afford to lose if he gets caught. He just has to see if he is any good - but something tells Agust he is.
It does require an amount of trust, but maybe it doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t have to trust him at all. He can let him loose, and see what sort of havoc he wreaks while Agust profits. Even if he gets caught and tells on Agust, what will he say that isn’t already known? Everyone knows about Agust D, and everyone knows not to cross him. Agust has the police under his control, so they are unlikely to come knocking on his door just because a mad man is babbling about working for him.
This man won’t know more information about him than the rest to be an issue if he a caught. And if he does become an issue, if the arsonist becomes too much of a liability, he can just kill him. Low risk, potentially high reward.
Agust puts the gun back in the holster that sits concealed by his trousers’ waistband, to the right so he can reach in easily, and takes a new cigarette from the pack. He lights it and breathes in the smoke, and then blows it out, putting the cigarette box back in his pocket.
He stands up and strolls around the room, hand in his pocket, ‘Yeah, I could use someone like you.’
‘You can’t set fire to your own buildings?’
Agust smiles for the first time, and then he shakes his head, looking at the man, ‘There are things I need done that would be better accomplished by someone of your expertise.’
‘And you want me to do those things.’ The man says with a smirk on his lips, and he takes another puff from the cigarette he took from Agust.
‘Yes. You were bold, burning my car. If you wanted my attention, you got it.’
‘I couldn’t give less of a shit about you.’ The man asserts, looking at the cigarette with a frown, and Agust notices it’s about to burn out. The man then adds, ‘I just wanted to burn the car.’
‘Do you always give into your own whims?’
‘Sometimes. Sometimes I think through things. I can think very well when there’s cash involved.’
‘You’ve made that clear.’ Agust takes a drag from his cigarette and tilts his head, ‘You still need to pay for the car.’
‘How so?’ The man asks with interest.
Agust breathes out the smoke, ‘You’ll do a job for me for free. Show me what you got. Or else, I can still shoot you and we can be done.’
The man looks at him with an almost proud half-smile, like he finally met his equal, and Agust finds that interesting given he is the one who is an established gangster between the two of them. But then again, the man is clearly too cocky for his own good if he thought he could get away with burning Agust’s car. And Agust supposes he is proving him right, as he is still very much alive.
The man then nods, ‘Yeah, sure. You’re pretty enough for me to agree to those terms.’
Agust is slightly taken aback by the comment, given that no one has called him pretty, or complimented him on his looks, in a long time. It feels like an odd word to associate with a man who has a scar on his face, and who kills people regularly. And also because the man just said that he was not interested less than five minutes ago.
Crazy fucker.
‘What do you want done?’ The man asks, throwing the cigarette on the floor. He is still sitting in the bathtub as if it’s nothing.
‘Need you to set fire to a few buildings.’
‘Why?’
‘That’s on a ‘need to know’ basis.’
‘And I don’t need to know?’
Agust smiles, ‘All you need to know is the location, and the time. You need to do it exactly when I tell you. And then I trust you can get the job done and come back here to inform me.’
‘And then?’
‘If you do a good job, and you don’t get caught, I’ll give you another job and that one will be paid. And so on and so forth.’
‘What will you do with me when you no longer need me?’ The man asks, and Agust admires his foresight. He is smarter than Agust expected.
‘You said you don’t mind dying.’
‘I would prefer to not die after I am rolling around in dough.’ The man finally lifts himself up from the bathtub, showcasing the strength in his biceps and core. The jumpsuit sticks to his skin from the waist down. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it however, not even with the fact the fabric sticks to his junk, highlighting the shape of the shaft.
‘I can let you live. As long as you fuck off to somewhere else.’
‘I can do that.’ The man nods.
‘Great.’ Agust takes a drag from the cigarette and blows the smoke into the air, approaching the other, ‘What’s your name?'
‘Jack.’
‘Jack,’ Agust repeats, ‘That’s not your real name.’
‘No. Real names are for family.’ Jack stands up and walks to the door, his boots squelching with each step, ‘We are unlikely partners at best.’
‘We’re not partners. You work for me.’
Jack looks back at Agust, and smirks, ‘How do you know I won’t fucking kill you?’
‘I don’t,’ Agust says, ‘But for one, you won’t get your money.’
Agust walks towards Jack and takes a long drag from his cigarette. He holds it in for a second, and then blows it in Jack’s face.
‘And just like you, I don’t give a shit about dying either.’
Jack smiles almost prettily, his dark eyes blown and a few strands of his dark hair hanging over his forehead.
Agust should have known then he was fucked.
***
Agust checks his watch again, and frowns. It’s already 8:30pm, and Jack should have arrived half an hour ago. He never expected criminals, much less arsonists, to be punctual, but half an hour is a stretch in his book.
He is starting to think Jack bailed, but he knows from reliable sources that the job was done, and very successfully at that. So, if Jack doesn’t show, it’s not much to Agust. And Agust supposes it’s not much for Jack either – he’s not getting paid regardless. Agust supposes their little alliance is over before it even began, and he doesn’t really care. He’ll just have to find another way to get the fires done.
But then someone knocks on his door. Agust looks up, ‘Yes?’
‘Jack’s here to see you, boss.’ RM says.
Agust licks his lips, ‘Let him in.’
Less than a second later, Jack walks through the door, hands in his pockets and a pleased smile on his lips. This time he’s wearing the black equivalent of the outfit he wore the first (and only) time they met, which Agust has to admit looks better on him. He has always liked a monochromatic theme. His hair, makeup and the chain around his neck are the same. The provocative smile on his face is the same.
‘Wassup, boss?’ Jack says, looking around the room, ‘Missed me?’
‘You’re late.’
‘I don’t get paid to be on time.’ Jack says, and then he taps his chin as if thinking, ‘Oh wait, I’m not getting paid at all.’
‘Did you get the job done?’
Jack sits down on one of the chairs opposite to Agust’s desk, and leans back, interlocking his hands behind his head. He smiles, ‘I’m sure you already know that.’
Agust’s lip quirks, ‘Yes, I have it on good authority you did as you were told.’
‘There were people inside the building.’ Jack puts his hands down on the arms of the chair, squeezing the padding with his fingers as if testing how bouncy it is, and shrugs, ‘But I suppose that is what you wanted.’
‘That’s on a ‘need to know’ basis.’
Jack smirks, looking up and down at Agust, ‘I didn’t know the great Agust D killed people through smoke inhalation now. Don’t tell me you’re going soft.’
Agust stands up from his chair, ‘I’m pleased with your work. If you want, there is another job for you in a week.’
‘How much are you paying me?’
‘How much do you want to be paid?’ Agust asks, looking at Jack from the side. He notices now that the other is cleaner today than he was the first time they met, but his nails have the remains of gasoline on them.
‘Why, you want to barter with me?’ Jack asks, looking at Agust. Agust just looks back at him, awaiting a real answer. Jack then smiles, ‘I’d like at least 100k. You know, there are supplies, planning. The fact I’m putting my neck on the line for you.’
Agust considers it for a second, but then says, ‘100k is a hefty price for what you’re doing,’ He argues, now standing behind Jack.
‘And here I was, thinking I was providing an essential service.’ Jack leans back and looks at Agust upside down, his wild black hair hanging from his scalp, ‘If you want, you can always set fire to your own shit.’
Agust doesn’t answer. Jack sits up straight again, ‘And today’s service included murder. That comes with an extra fee.’
‘Next few jobs are just fires. I’ll offer you 80k.’
‘No can do, pretty boy.’ Jack stands up and sits on Agust’s desk, so he is facing Agust, ‘I want 100k. You know my work is good, and I’m oh-so obedient. The perfect worker.’
Agust considers him. Jack looks cocky, like he always seems to look - like he has already won the negotiation, like he is very sure Agust needs him and will bend to his will, and Agust feels a nagging itch beckoning him to make sure he wins this. Jack wants too much, and he is still disrespecting him in subtle ways, sitting on his desk and calling him ‘pretty boy’. Jack thinks he owns this whole fucking place.
Agust needs to assert his dominance again, particularly if Jack is going to work for him in the long term. He didn’t get where he is being disrespected, particularly not by someone like him.
Agust moves to where Jack is, standing in front of him. His thighs touch Jack’s knees. Jack is ever so slightly shorter than him like this. Agust leans so their faces are a few inches apart, and then says, voice low, ‘Let me put it this way. You either take the 80k, or you leave today with lead in your guts. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Jack grins, almost as if he didn’t hear a word that Agust just said. He looks right at Agust’s eyes and sighs, ‘Okay, then. I’ll take the 80k. But only under one condition.’
Agust keeps looking at him. There is a pause, and then he feels Jack’s hand reach into his trousers’ pocket and dig in. His fingers get dangerously close to his crotch, and he pulls out the crumpled cigarette packet. Agust feels tense having the other man’s hand there, their faces so close. He can smell the scent of gasoline and smoke on Jack’s skin, he can see the small scar under his right eye and the freckle above his lip. It’s strange to see a human underneath the mask.
Jack then leans back on the counter, laying down completely, his legs still hanging off the desk. He takes a cigarette and the lighter from the packet. He lights himself a cig, and blows smoke into the air.
‘I want to know more about the jobs. It feels really unfair to have to do all this shit, and not even know what’s going on.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Agust takes the pack from Jack’s hand and feeds himself a cigarette, ‘I don’t trust you.’
Jack feigns disappointment, ‘Oh, no way, really?’
Agust throws Jack a look, and Jack hands him the lighter. Agust lights his cigarette and breathes in the smoke. Holy shit, he needs this. He itched for a cigarette as soon as he saw Jack bring his own cig to his lips.
There is a silent pause, and they smoke together. Jack looks at him like he is something to be looked at, and the room fills with filthy smoke. Then Agust sighs, and says, his voice calm and steady:
‘Get the fuck out of here.’
‘What about the details for the next job?’
‘You'll receive those in due time. Now, get out and make sure to not get in trouble before the next job.’
Jack looks at Agust for a moment, and then gets up with ease. ‘Alright then, boss. Thanks for the cig.’
Agust doesn’t answer. Jack smiles at him and winks, and closes the door behind him on his way out. Agust takes a deep breath, and a long drag from his cigarette as he sits down on the chair. He feels his semi-hard cock restrained in his trousers, the bulge clearer now that he’s sitting next to the window, and he starts to realise he made a very big mistake.
Very big mistake indeed.
***
‘Do you always wear the same suit, or do you have lots of the same suit, like a cartoon character?’ Jack asks, leaning back in his chair, fingers interlocked over his stomach.
Agust doesn’t grace the question with an answer, mainly because he doesn’t always wear the same suit. Jack is wearing an oversized red sweater with loose black denim jeans, but the same thin chain around his neck. Agust theorises he never takes it off. His makeup is more subdued, but his hair is still wild. Agust feels like he is seeing Jack’s off-work persona, but unfortunately he is every bit as annoying and smug.
‘You have a job to do tomorrow.’ Agust says, ‘It’s an important job, and I expect you to do well.’
‘And I will, because I want to get paid.’ Jack then considers Agust, ‘But why did you call me here? You already had one of your little cronies deliver the details to me.’
Agust picks up one of the manila folders that sits on his desk. He flips it open and takes out a photo of a man – taken far away and almost a little too pixelated to make out his features – and slides it over to Jack. Jack picks it up and looks at it.
‘Handsome. Are you trying to set us up?’
‘I want you to make sure that man is in the building when you burn it down.’
Jack looks at the picture again and throws it on the desk, ‘Who is he?’
‘None of your business.’
‘You want me to kill people I don’t even know.’
‘You were fine with it before.’ Agust reminds him, ‘And you get paid to do what I tell you to.’
A pause. Jack tilts his head and smiles, ‘Fair enough, I suppose I do. You do know this comes with an extra fee.’
‘Well aware. I’m paying you 100k.’
Jack’s smile widens and he follows it with a nod, ‘Good. I’m glad I won that negotiation after all.’
‘No, you didn’t. Next job will be back down to the 80k.’
‘Not if you get in the habit of having me do your little assassinations.’ Jack looks at his hands, and Agust notices his skin is dry, almost flaking, but his nails and skin are squeaky clean. ‘I would kill to know what Agust D is up to.’
Agust takes a deep breath. He is getting tired of Jack’s attempts at taunting him. ‘We’re done here. You can leave.’
‘You know, this is how gangsters lose their reputation.’ Jack sing-songs, his tone mocking, ‘They grow soft and before you know it, they get killed and replaced.’
Agust smirks, ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to kill me and take over my business.’
Jack grins, ‘I’d run a much better operation than you do. Your workers are lazy, this office is a drab. Needs more colour and light.’ Jack stands and strolls leisurely around the room, looking at the artwork on the walks. He is steadily moving in Agust’s direction.
When he reaches his side, he promptly puts out his hand with a knowing look on his face, and Agust almost rolls his eyes, ‘Do you not have money for your own cigarettes?’
‘In case you forgot, my boss is unfairly holding payment. Might need to unionise.’ Jack says, his voice low and his tone cheeky. He looks down at Agust like he enjoys the view from the above. Like he could get used to the sight of Agust below him.
Agust bites his tongue and reaches for the packet in his pocket. He hands Jack a cigarette and the lighter. Jack lights himself the cigarette and nods. He blows the smoke in the air, ‘That’s much better. Can’t wait to buy cigs when I get the money.’
‘I’d think a guy like you might prefer vapes.’
Jack looks at him with amusement, and then chuckles softly, lowering his cigarette, ‘Why, pretty people aren’t allowed to enjoy cigarettes?’
Agust ignores the vanity all together, ‘You seem to enjoy life’s pleasures.’
‘I do, and cigs to me are a pleasure.’ Jack puts his hands on the armrests of Agust’s chair and leans in a little, so their faces are exactly parallel, ‘And I love the smell of smoke. Nothing’s better than that.’
‘You sound exactly like an arsonist.’
Jack smiles, ‘Yeah. I bet your favourite smell is dried blood and cracked necks.’
Agust lets himself half-smile at the comment and leans back, so their faces are a little less distant, ‘No. My favourite smell is the fear people feel when they look at me and they know I’m about to fucking kill them.’
Jack looks slightly dazed for a second, and Agust takes the opportunity to kick him hard on the groin, right by his crotch, which makes him kneel down with a pained groan. Agust stands from his chair and steps on Jack’s cigarette, which he dropped on the floor. He walks towards the door.
‘I have things to get to. I’m sure you know the way out.’
He hears Jack chuckle, and then smile, his voice still carrying a lightness in it, ‘You’re a bastard, you know that.’
‘So I’ve been told.’ Agust simply says, walking out of his office.
He tries to forget the look on Jack’s face with his dark eyes and parted lips.
***
‘Never thought I’d see the great Agust D in his pyjamas.’ Jack says, smiling to himself, ‘Does that mean you sleep in this dump of a place?’
Agust is not happy about this – not at all. Jack finished the job much later than expected – about six hours overdue – and Agust gave up on waiting for him and instructed his men to tell him to fuck off if he came for the money in the middle of the night. Apparently his men are useless, because Jack did arrive in the middle of the night, and when barred entry, he started screaming at the top of his lungs. This woke up Agust and basically forced his hand, as he didn’t want Jack to also wake up the whole neighbourhood. Agust knew he either came down to meet the fucker, or the screaming would not cease.
He doesn’t like people seeing him when he is not suitably dressed – he does have his brown robe wrapped around him - but he still feels exposed, particularly because he had a shower before going to bed and his hair now hangs freely around his face, in that way that he hates. It makes him look younger, softer, weaker. Weak.
‘You were late.’ Agust grits out, wanting to shoot Jack for the sake of it, for the sake of his life being simple. He thought he was earning something by having the maniac do half of his dirty work, but it seems that what he is saving in resources is being taken up by the years this man is sucking away from him.
‘You sprung up on me something last minute I had not accounted for when I originally planned for the job. And unlike what you think, people are not pawns in a game. I had to find a way to lure the guy in and have him in there for long enough to die. That takes time.’ Jack huffs and shakes his head, feigning sadness, ‘There is no appreciation for the art. No appreciation for any of it.’
Agust looks at him unamused, almost annoyed. He is annoyed. He is very irritated, actually. ‘You could have waited until tomorrow.’
Jack’s face instantly changes to something more serious, almost threatening. ‘No chance. I want my money now. I did what you wanted.’
Agust stands and walks over to his safe. He punches in the combination and takes out a small black bag. He throws it at Jack’s feet, ‘There. Fuck off now.’
Jack looks at him with puppy eyes, jutting out his lip, ‘No cigarette?’
Agust glares at him, putting his hands on the desk and leaning his weight on them, ‘You should be thanking your lucky stars I’m not knocking out your teeth right now for the scene you just caused. You are on a very thin line with me.’
Jack picks up the bag and looks inside, seeming satisfied with the wads of cash, ‘You already made sure I wouldn’t have children with that kick to the nuts yesterday. You definitely should spare my teeth.’
‘You provoke me.’
Jack looks at Agust, a pleased grin on his face, ‘You know, you look good when you’re angry. With the soft hair, it’s a nice contrast.’
Agust is really losing his cool, his hand wrapping itself in a fist, ‘You fucking-’
‘Anyways, gotta bounce.’ Jack says, standing up, ‘Thanks for the money, boss. I’ll see you next week for another job.’
Jack turns around, walking backwards towards the door, ‘Sweet dreams, little prince.’ He winks.
Agust’s mouth almost curls into a snarl, but Jack doesn’t see that as he leaves and shuts the door behind him. Agust slams his fist on the desk, hot anger circulating in his bloodstream, and he runs his hands through his hair. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down, because he knows that Jack wants to get under his skin. He can’t allow him. He can’t, he can’t.
He can’t.
He can’t have Jack continue working for him. He can’t.
He simply can’t.
***
Turns out, arson is harder than it looks.
Agust rubs his lips, an itch growing under his skin, ‘What do you mean you failed?’
The man has his head bowed so low it might snap off his neck, and he speaks with a tremor in his voice, ‘Sir, it’s very difficult to set fire to a whole building long enough for it to burn completely. The firefighters got there before it even got to the first floor.’
Agust continues rubbing his lips. The man doesn’t dare to make eye contact with him. He is scared, a new hire he supposes, but he should know Agust is not going to do anything to him. Agust knows well the balance between obedience and rebellion is a delicate one. Killing his men for failing a job that was out of their control is crossing that line.
The last thing he needs is rebellion. And he doesn’t like being violent unnecessarily.
He looks at the man and then waves his hand, ‘Get out of my sight.’
The man nods and scurries out of the room. Agust is stuck in a complex situation – he either finds another arsonist somehow, gives up on this plan all together, or he calls Jack again. The last option involves losing some of his dignity and pride, but the first is almost impossible and the second is costly. Very costly.
Agust groans to himself, in the privacy of his office. He thought his men could figure this out, but clearly they can’t.
‘RM.’ Agust calls.
He walks in, ‘Yes?’
‘Get a hold of Jack. Tell him to come here tomorrow at 4pm.’
RM seems to have a hint of a smile on his lips, but he doesn’t make any further comments, ‘Yes, sir.’
Agust can interpret that smile well enough.
He knows it too.
He lost the battle with Jack. This will not fare well for him.
***
‘You know, boss, I missed you too.’ Jack says, his smile emanating such smugness it’s almost blinding, ‘It’s good to be back.’
‘You are still on a very thin line with me.’
‘Am I? I heard of your botched little attempt at burning down a building in the suburbs. I would say I am impressed at your boldness, but I’m more embarrassed for you at how big of a failure it was.’
Agust looks at Jack for a second, unsure on how to navigate this conversation while keeping his cards close to his chest and preserve his authority. Jack knows he is needed, and that’s him knowing too much. That’s only giving him more power in this exchange, and he already has far too much of that. Jack talks, moves, acts and looks at Agust like he has all the power in the world, like Agust is a mere puppet in his show, a prop in his movie, an extra in the scene, and Agust hates it. He hates him. He feels the nagging itch to humble Jack, bring him down a peg. He needs to, if they’re ever to work together in the long term.
He stands up and walks around to where Jack is sitting, standing behind him. He places his hands on his shoulders, and rubs his shoulder blades with a subtle roughness, ‘Yeah, you know what, turns out my men are not nearly as good as you at arson. A shame really, because your unprofessionalism is rather off-putting.’
‘Aw, thanks.’ Jack says.
Agust tightens his grip and leans in, so his mouth right is next to Jack’s ear, ‘But let’s not pretend you aren’t just a street rat picking up cigarette butts off the ground and stealing food from back alleys. I’m paying you a lot for your services, so if I were you, I would tone down the disrespectful tone and keep your half-witted answers to yourself.’
Agust’s hands press roughly into Jack’s shoulders, right into his bones, so hard he might leave bruises. Agust hopes he does. He hopes he bruises Jack so badly he sees the marks the next day in the mirror and remembers him.
Agust can hear Jack hiss, and it’s deeply satisfying to him, ‘Do you understand me?’ He rasps, annunciating his words.
‘Yeah, boss.’ Jack grits, his jaw clenched, ‘Heard you loud and clear.’
‘Good.’ Agust claps his hands on his shoulders, ‘You will receive the details about the next job in the coming days. And this time make sure you come at a decent time to receive your payment.’
‘Yeah, got it.’ Jack says as Agust walks back to his seat, and for once Jack doesn’t have a smile plastered on his face. In fact, he looks bothered, affected, for once. Good. Agust is quite pleased he has the situation under control. Finally. Finally.
‘Great. You can leave now.’
Jack doesn’t hesitate in standing up. Agust watches as Jack walks to the door. He opens it, and then turns back momentarily to look at Agust.
‘You know, boss,’ Jack starts, his face so still it’s like it’s turned to stone. His eyes look at Agust with what he can only describe as pure hatred, his pupils dark with the anger. Agust knows he looks at Jack with that same look, ‘You will regret doing that. Calling me that.’
‘Oh, will I?’ Agust asks nonchalantly, ‘Is that a threat?’
‘No, it’s a promise. I have no loyalty to shitheads who degrade me.’
And with that, he leaves.
Agust’s smirk drops the second the door shuts.
Agust went too far. He caused a rebellion.
And now, he has to squash it before the kind is dethroned and beheaded.
***
Agust thinks he knows when it will come, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t at all.
Jack does three more jobs for him, and at surface level, everything’s fine and going well – Jack got things done in a timely manner, came for his payment at decent hours and was almost polite to Agust – aside from the casual remark here or there. Agust almost began to think he imagined the deathly look in Jack’s eyes, the threat hiding in his words, but he knew what he heard, and he knew that Jack was just taking the saying, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold,’ to the fullest extent. But it was coming. He knew it.
‘Why don’t you just kill him?’ RM said, looking at Agust as he paced around his office.
‘He’s the only one who can do the jobs. And I can’t lose out on this deal.’ Agust said, shaking his head, ‘It’s millions, RM. Millions. This means everything to the business. I can’t let personal issues get in the way.’
‘What if he kills you?’
‘He won’t. He talks big, but he doesn’t do killings.’
‘He does if it involves fire. What if he sets this whole building ablaze. He knows you sleep here, shit here. We’ll all die.’
‘No, no.’ Agust says, shaking his head, ‘He wants to assert dominance, not kill us. He probably still wants to get paid. He will do something, but not anything like that.’
RM looked at Agust with some exasperation, ‘Then what will it be? Where should I keep the men?’
Agust puts his hands on the back of his chair, and leans his weight on it. He shakes his head, thinking.
‘Have someone follow him.’
‘We have already tried that. He is good at dodging the stalkers, he will go into crowds and just disappear. And he sleeps somewhere new every night.’ RM sighs, ‘You have put yourself in a bad situation. He is angry, and now he has money. I don’t think there is anything we can do to save ourselves.’
Agust looks at RM, who looks at himself with a hint of disappointment. Agust is also disappointed in himself, for letting it get this bad. For putting himself in this situation.
If it wasn’t for the deal, Jack would be dead already, killed by Agust’s own hand and gun. Agust sometimes wishes he had killed him the second he saw him.
Regardless, RM was right. There was nothing they could do. The lookouts were useless – Jack is a true street rat, blending in and out of crowds and only being seen when he wants to be seen. So, when the younger follows through on his promise, it comes out of nowhere.
Agust receives a call in the middle of the night.
‘Yes?’ He groans into the speaker, rubbing his eyes, ‘What is it?’
‘Boss, I-’ Agust can hear commotion in the background, and he immediately sits up, suddenly awake, ‘Someone broke in, they stole the money from the safe.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘He said his name was Jack, and to tell you that. He took the money from the safe and told me to tell you that if you don’t show up in ten minutes, he’ll set the whole restaurant on fire. He wants you to come alone.’
Agust is immediately out of his bed, and he gets dressed as quickly as he can.
The Pan-Asian restaurant is one of Agust’s smallest businesses, no one but the owner knows about it. Agust funds the restaurant when it is running out of money, and in exchange the owner lets him use the upstairs rooms as places for his men to sleep and a place to hold some of his money. The boss is loyal to Agust, and vice versa. He has much to lose by disclosing to anyone that Agust has links to the place, so how Jack found out about it is beyond him.
But he found out, and now he is threatening him with it. Fucker.
Agust rushes to the restaurant, his breaths coming out ragged. The streets are deserted at this time of the night, almost too peaceful for the havoc that Agust knows Jack is unleashing inside the restaurant.
He walks in through the busted door and rushes upstairs.
There, he is immediately hit with the stench of gasoline, the yellow liquid spilled all over the wooden floors. He sees the manager of the restaurant crouched in the corner, fear painted in broad strokes across his face. He’s chained to the wall, right by where the landline phone is. Agust covers his nose and mouth with his sleeve and continues walking.
He finds Jack sat down in the safe room, the cash from the vault in a bag and a cigarette between his lips.
He smiles when he sees Agust, ‘Ah, boss! Nice to see you again. I’m glad you got my message.’ He takes the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, ‘I was hoping to see the soft hair again.’
‘You fucking bastard.’ Agust grits, and he takes Jack by the collar, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’
‘Following through on my promise. Payback.’ Jack says, taking a drag from his cigarette. He blows the exhale in Agust’s face, and when Agust closes his eyes to protect them from the smoke, he kicks him in the groin, just like Agust did to him. Agust only stumbles, but that’s enough for his hold on Jack’s collar to weaken and for Jack to set himself free. He stands, and Agust sinks to his knees as the pain drags up his body. He forgot how much a kick to the nuts hurts.
He can hear Jack’s sour voice behind him, ‘You don’t call me a fucking street rat and get away with it. You think you have such a nice business set up, such loyal workers, and yet I found out about your links to this place fairly quickly. I also found out about your multi-million dollar deal with some of the businessmen around here. It’s a nice arrangement – you burn the buildings, and the landlords along with them if they are not cooperative, and then the rich fuckers can build new condos for their kind. Not very ethical, if you ask me.’
‘What the fuck do you want?’ Agust grits, feeling beyond humiliated being on his knees with his nutsack throbbing, and Jack finding out about all the things he was never meant to know, and so easily. How the fuck did he find out?
‘Well, for one, I’m taking this money since it turns out I’ve been underpaid for what my labour is worth.’ Jack says, ‘Even 100k is not covering a fraction of the profit you’re making. Truly, Marx would be ashamed.’
Agust hears Jack stepping closer and he grabs Agust by the collar of his shirt, a smile plastered on his face but his voice serious, ‘And besides that? Nothing. I will keep your dirty little secrets safe from the streets and keep doing your jobs for the measly salary you pay me.’
‘So you did this for what? Money?’
Jack smiles, as if Agust is stupid, ‘No, pretty boy. I did this so you know to fucking respect me.’
Jack lets go of Agust’s collar, and Agust’s knees hit the ground hard. Jack picks up the bag with the money and begins moving towards the exit. Agust shakily stands up from his spot on the carpet, his balls still aching from the kick, a headache lodging itself into his skull from the smell of the gasoline, and he reaches for the gun in the holster in his waistband, withdrawing the gun from its place.
He points the gun at Jack’s head.
Jack stops and raises his hands, ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Why the hell not?’ Agust asks, his aim steady, his finger is securely on the trigger.
‘Well, for one, I’ll make sure you burn along with me.’ Jack says, turning around and emphasising the lit cigarette in his hand. Agust can now see that if he shoots him, Jack’s body will fall on the gasoline-covered floor and the whole place will go up in flames. Agust knows well there is no other way to leave if the corridor is obstructed. The windows are too high up, a jump would kill him, ‘But secondly, think about it this way – we’re even now. My anger is satisfied, and I can be loyal to you. Get your jobs done and keep quiet about everything else. And you get all the millions you were promised for the burnings.’
Jack grins, ‘No one has to know about the humiliation you suffered here. Seeing you on your knees for me was enough to keep me happy for a long time.’
Agust thinks about it for a second. It really only takes a second when he knows that he will die here if he shoots Jack. He lowers the gun.
Jack lowers his hands as well, and he nods, ‘I’m glad we can agree. See you next week.’
Jack turns around again, and Agust speaks – his low voice somehow booming throughout the room.
‘If you betray me, I swear to god, I’ll find you and kill you myself.’
Jack looks at Agust over his shoulder, and nods, a content smile playing at his lips, ‘Good thing I’m not planning to do that.’
He leaves, and Agust sulks in his wounded pride for a second before leaving as well, the ugly voice in his head chanting, Pathetic, Pathetic, Pathetic. He unchains the restaurant owner from the wall and tells him to go home, that some people will take care of the gasoline business in the morning. The man was more than happy to run off without asking any questions.
Agust walks back, the streets still calm but his mind racing. He can’t find it in himself to be overly angry. He is angry, but mostly at himself, for letting this happen. This was all his own doing - letting someone into his operation who had not shown him absolute respect, or any respect at all, letting rumours spread and getting involved in the shady burning building business deal without making sure his own men could do the job. But millions are millions. No one can say no to that kind of money, that kind of power.
And he was wrong to underestimate Jack. That fucker is a lot smarter, more well-resourced and cunning than Agust thought. He is not brash at all, unlike what Agust had previously characterised him as. He is rather meticulous, and clearly has some sort of code. He could have killed Agust, and he didn’t. He didn’t even really hurt him.
Eye for an eye. Humiliation for humiliation. Agust will see how tight-lipped he will actually be about this situation, but he- well-
It seems he does deserve respect.
As much as Agust hates to admit it, when looking at everything, at what Jack just accomplished single-handedly, Jack is right. They’re even.
They’re even now.
They’re equal now.
Agust has to respect him.