A Peaceful Time...
Wednesday, December 9th, 2043 - 12:05 PM Manhattan, New York | Kavik A. Davasgo
Early December, somewhere in Manhattan. An elderly canine in a rather expensive looking suit sits outside a busy coffeehouse, alone. Such a professional looking fellow, all by himself at a table fit for two... Sipping from his mug and gazing off into space... Was he waiting for somebody?
People come, people go. Some stop and look. Some point and speak under their breath. Some just mind their own business and go along their way. Whatever they do, it doesn't bother him. He was in his own world - far too busy with his thoughts. And his coffee, mmmm... Damn good.
But what's this? Amongst all the traffic, one person - a human fellow - stops and stares, longer than the others. His head tilts curiously, as if he's seen an old friend. A sudden smile bursts onto his face, soon replaced by a look of urgency. He quickly takes a seat at an empty table close to the suited canine.
The suit looks up, lips sealed to his mug. A young fellow, probably not even in his twenties yet. Dirty blond hair, lively blue eyes that preach his passionate and adventurous attitude... So easy to read.
More folks come, more leave. Random chatter from the other patrons drowns out the nearby traffic. A restless waiter scurries about the chaotic scene, occasionally breaking his view of the man. Still though... That human stares... And the suit, with his precious coffee mug sealed to his lips, stares back with a knowing look.
He knows what's about to happen...
The mug lowers, but the stare never breaks. The human, seeing his chance, moves in.
"Mister Davasgo..." He says, approaching quick. "My name is Dean-Harper, I'm a freelance journalist for a local newspaper. I'd like just a moment of your time, if I may."
Mister Davasgo... Was not so quick to respond. He took one looooong sip of his drink, his once relentless stare now a curious gaze followed up by a stroke of his greying beard. A reporter? With that outfit? Blue jeans, some striped hipster T-shirt, and a basic brown satchel. That went out of style years ago. A gangster? No, they're all gone. An assassin? No, too careless.
He looked like... Like some regular kid.
"I prefer Kavik." He said with a nod, bringing the cup back to his mouth... only to realize it was empty. He pretended to drink some anyways.
"Your cup is empty."
Kavik smirked, then nodded. "...And your pants are unzipped."
"W-what?"
The human canted his head and looked down. Damn. Sure enough... wide open.
"Dare I even ask how you noticed?" he asked, fixing his little situation.
"I just thought you were a real doll and was eyeing you up." Kavik said, monotone. "No. I was checking for possible weapons. Guess some habits are hard to kick..."
"Well. Do I have anything on me worth noting?"
"Switchblade, left pocket. That kind of blade is illegal, friend."
"Are you going to arrest me then?"
"...Nope."
A sudden silence seemed to fall. The other patrons were still bantering about, of course, but the guy just stood there awkwardly, like he was waiting for something. Kavik did his best to ignore him, for now. He raised his mug in the sky, signaling a nearby waitress to come top him off. Mmmm...
The waitress departed, but the kid still stood there. Still awkward. Still quiet.
"Sit. You're making me uncomfortable just standing there." Kavik nodded his head to the chair across from him.
"Thank you." the kid took a seat, placing his pack at his feet. Seems that command is what he was waiting for. "You sure drink that a lot."
"You sure make dumb remarks for being a reporter."
"..."
Heh. That sure showed him.
"Bayno really did rub off on you, huh?" the kid suddenly pepped, his confidence returning.
Kavik's ears perking up. Now there was a name he hadn't heard in some time... He placed the mug down and folded his arms, stroking curiously at his beard.
"...Well. Seems you have me at a disadvantage here. I take it you want something from me."
"No, not at all." the kid waved his hands about, head shaking. "I just wanted to get your attention... and let you know I'm serious."
Hmmmmm...
"...What did you say your name was?"
"Dean-Harper."
"And your first name...?"
The kid stumbled. "My name is Dean-Harper." he repeated.
Kavik rolled his eyes and took up his mug. "The way you pronounce it... Sounds like two last names."
"And why would that matter?"
Kavik shrugged his shoulders, playing it off. "I guess it doesn't matter..." A massive yawn escaped the husky, despite what he'd been drinking. Sugar... Needs more sugar...
"Look. I can already tell you aren't real thrilled with my presence. To be honest, I thought you were going to shoo me away. But... hey. You didn't."
"I was going to, at first. But that never works_. Especially_ on reporters..."
Kavik put emphasis on 'reporters.' He could see right through this kid. For the guy knowing so much about him, he should have known such a stupid story would never work. No matter... Back to more important things...
A few packets of sugar dumped right into the husky's mug. Two, three, four...? Make it five, for good measure. Six, maybe...? Goodness no. That would be too much.
Mister Harper found himself amazed by the old dog's preference.
"With all that sugar, you're going to kill the flavor."
"I like it sweet."
"Coffee is supposed to be bitter and sweet. That's the appeal."
"Well that's just dumb." Kavik said flatly.
He took a final prolonged siiiiip, finishing off the drink. He was met with a blank stare after, both men lacking much social skill.
The awkward silence... wasn't so awkward at all, actually. The chatter and traffic made for nice ambiance. That's pretty much all he ever came to this place for, anyways.
"So." Kavik pepped. "Whadda' you want."
The kid rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck, staring down to his feet - and the pack that lay down there. It took some time for him to gather some words.
"I... I kind of just... wanted to meet with you and talk, is all. Just like what we're doing. It's been my dream for a while."
"You spend your nights dreaming of bantering with old dog-men? Strange."
"You're not just an old guy. I mean, you've done so much for--"
"What have I done, hm? You really know?" Kavik interrupted, casting a serious look.
"You've done good, that much I know_._ Good for everything!" The human's voice weakened, thoughts pouring in. "...I mean... I know most people... don't look at you as a hero, now... But they used to. I still do, and I know plenty others who do as well."
Those words - innocent enough as they seemed - couldn't even scratch the surface.
Kavik stroked at his chin-fur with a sigh. "You dunno what you're talking about, kid. What I did was way before your time. The good, and the bad stuff."
"_I _know about you... About Bayno, about Heidenreich, about all of you. The news and media likes to fuck Troika over, but I've done my research."
"And that 'research' has lead you where?"
"Right here." Dean tapped the table a time or so. "Right here to you, Kavik. I'm curious... And I have some questions..."
"I'm sure you've heard all about me, already. What can I tell you that your precious news tabloids haven't already?"
"I know you still want to fight." The kid started, nodding confidently. "But I'm wondering why. Why did you kill Bayno?"
"He was a criminal."
"He was your partner..."
"And he was a damn criminal." Kavik huffed out. "Before joining Troika, he was with the Dead Hounds. He went right back to them after he left Troika. Told them everything, everything! He's a traitor and an idiot, and that's what got him killed."
Dean shook his head. "I don't understand..."
"What more can I say?"
"No, I mean--... Look. I've read all about you. I've read the stories - the real stories. I've seen the old vids..."
"And you believe that garbage?"
Dean-Harper shook his head and disappeared under the table for a moment, fiddling with his pack. When he rose, he threw a shoddy looking book onto the table.
"You remember this?"
Kavik looked over the book's cover. A single, silhouetted hill with a tree casting a purple-hazed shadow over a city. So simple, so plain... Yet so much more. Memories. Lots of memories...
'The Shadows Cast by Sachus City.'
"This book..." Dean tapped the book a few times. "You wrote this book."
It took time for Kavik to recall. "How-... How did you get that...? I forgot I even wrote that stupid tale."
"I told you. I've done my research."
"Give me that." Kavik reached out to take the book, only to have the human swipe it away. Though frustrated, Kavik realized there was nothing he could do. The kid already read the damn thing, and God knows how many people he shared it with. Christ...
"You wrote this... And this story speaks such a different tale than what everyone else - yourself included - says."
Kavik rolled his eyes and buried his face away in his palms. He peeped out from his palms to his still empty coffee mug. Hnnng... Not even that could save him, now.
"Where'd you find that book?" Kavik asked, his voice raspy and stern.
"Where is Bayno hiding?" Dean retorted.
"Bayno is dead." The husky growled. "Even if he weren't, the man would be well into his seventies, eighties... He couldn't answer shit for you."
Dean slumped back in his chair, arms folded as well now. His expecting glare was relentless.
"...Look. I wrote that book as a work of fiction. What I penned in those pages... didn't actually happen. Rather, it's how I wanted things to happen."
"Bullshit."
"The fuck more do you want me to say?" Kavik rose with anger, ready to strangle the human.
"I want to know why you lied about yourself and your friends, and took the bullet by becoming the 'bad guys' in society's eyes. How do you go from national hero, to the world's most hated leader overnight?"
Another roll of the eyes and a sigh escaped him. Kavik took a seat with a defeated huff.
"Christ, you got annoying real quick..."
"Well? Do you have an answer for me?"
"Are you going to blackmail me?" Kavik asked, his tone flat.
"No. I won't. In fact..." Dean-Harper slid the book over Kavik's way. "There. Take it back. I don't have any copies... And I never shared it with anyone, either. Your story is safe."
Kavik caught the book beneath his paw, sighing as the old, familiar cover lay before him.
"...I don't want to blackmail you." Dean started. "...I don't want to share your story with the world; this is me being selfish. You were my hero, Kavik. You still are." Dean-Harper paused to gather his thoughts. "...I want you to be able to tell me - with a clear conscience - why you lied about Bayno's death, his betrayal. I want to know why you had your own brother killed. I want to know why you tried to kill yourself. I want to know it all."
Uncomfortable silence stained the air, no answer was given. Dean-Harper realized he wasn't getting anywhere. He'd have to take it up a notch.
"In a way, I feel you owe it to me."
Kavik was quick to retort. "I don't owe you shit. Where do you get off saying something like that?"
"You're right. You don't. But I know you wrote that book for a reason. You wanted a way of telling your story. You wanted someone to know." Dean held out his arms wide. "Well here I am. Talk. I'll listen. That is what you wanted... Right?"
The old dog's eyes closed, his throat full of sadness and doubt. Why was this kid pressing on so much? What did it matter anymore? What he did was years ago. It was in everyone's best interest. There was no need for his group anymore, or him in general. Kavik knew he eventually someone was going to come asking these questions, but... Fuck. He should have just left when he had the chance.
But it was no use being regretful now. He had someone before him, a young man, eager for the truth. Would the truth change anything? Would the truth hurt anybody? ...Well, anybody besides Kavik himself, of course.
Kavik took a deep breath. It took him a long time to come up with a decision, and even longer to speak.
"...Alright, kid. You win. I'll talk."