A/N: So I haven't posted anything in awhile -over a year at least- and I figured I oughta post something and be more active again so heres a little thing thats been festering for awhile. Its a Johnkat humanstuck and may have some M rated stuff later on. There will be character death, just a warning, but either way enjoy!
Disclaimer: Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie and Piano Man belongs to Billy Joel, I only own the plot.
He'd never been much of a fan of piano, much preferring to blast his ears out with mindless death metal or rock music, so one might wonder why the leather-clad raven haired boy was situated on the back of an old café – one of the kind that had the feel of a second home with its friendly staff and coffee drenched air – with a mug of tea in his hands. He defiantly stood out among the other customers that had gathered, either to mingle or to watch the young man – boy even, no older than 17 – up on the stage, fingers dancing along the stained ivory keys of an ancient grand piano in an amazing rendition of "Piano Man" as he sang along – some customers sang along with him. He was here on business; a job from Slick. Nab the kid and bring him back to HQ, he'd said as he practically shoved him out of the van. So here he was, sitting in a dumpy little café, his red eyes never leaving the boy on stage.
It'll be simple Karkat, he thought, just wait 'til he leaves and corner him. The boy – who Karkat had a limited knowledge of, he was Betty Crocker's grandkid or some shit, he didn't really care – finished the song's final riff and stood up from the instrument, and taking a very casual bow (not that he could've done much better if he tried, Karkat mused, what with his denim jacket and ripped jeans complete with ratty old converse that had their share of miles under their souls). The crowd cheered enthusiastically and the kid gave a big, bucktoothed grin. As he started to talk into a mic, Karkat's phone started to vibrate. Grumbling angrily as he saw the caller ID, he pressed the phone to his ear.
"What do you want Slick, I'm kinda busy.". he hissed quietly, as not to draw the attention of unwanted ears.
"Where are you, you outa be here by now." Came the gruff reply.
"He's still playing. Sorry but I don't think nabbing him right off the stage in front of at least 50 people would go over well." The other line was quiet and if he didn't know better, he'd have sworn Slick had hung up, but he was smarter than that.
"Hurry the hell up then, kid.". the subtle click alerted him that his boss had hung up. Slipping the device back into his pocket, he realized that the kid wasn't on stage anymore, and Karkat almost panicked – how could he explain that he lost the person that Slick and his crew wanted in their clutches – but then a quick survey of the room found him embracing an older, portly woman, the owner's wife, if he was correct in assuming. Then he was heading out of a side door behing the coffee counter. Leaving his half full mug on the table, Karkat stood up and hurried out the front door to catch him. The café was shoved right up next to a department store with a small alley in between, and the kid should still be walking the narrow passage.
It was night, a late October evening, so it was just cold enough to send shivers down his spine, and the city light drowned the stars into a foggy haze of a sky. As he turned into the mouth of the alley, he almost didn't see anyone, but then he saw the light of a phone screen somewhere in the darkness. Perfect, he thought as he headed toward the dim light. Pulling a small bottle and a rag out of the pocket of his leather jacket, he stopped momentarily to uncap the bottle and douse the rag in the sickly sweet chemical that made his nose twitch. Heading forward with careful steps to avoid making any noise, he snuck up on the boy, who looked to be texting someone. The rag firmly in his hand, he came up behing they boy, closing one arm around his chest, trapping his arms to him and causing his phone to fall to the ground , and his other hand pressing the rag firmly over the boys mouth and nose.
The boy, almost instantly, started struggling and trying to free his arms, or scream or anything, but Karkat was, obviously, much stronger than him and held him easily. Offhandedly Karkat thought, I've hand way to much practice at this for someone my age, but threw the thought aside quickly. Leaning down to the boys ear he hissed harshly,
"Don't struggle, Fuckass". Of course that didn't stop the kid from trying to break free, but he was moving less, before he fell against Karkat, passed out. Pocketing the rag, he lifted the kids arm over his shoulder so he could half drag, half carry him to the bike Slick had left for him – thank god – and he kicked the discarded phone to the wall, hard enough to shatter the screen.
Luckily the kid wasn't too heavy, and there weren't many people out to see him dragging a comatose kid down the sidewalk, and he had no problems getting the kid into the side buggie –that was a normal sitting position, right? Hopping on himself, he started the bike and sped down the road. It looked like rain was on the way, if the slightly cloudy sheen to the normal haze and the wet earthy scent that overpowered the metallic, gasoline scent of the city were anything to go by.
It didn't take long to reach the mini-city maze or warehouses that was home to the 'oh-so-lovingly' named HQ Slick resided in. Of course He picked the largest vacant warehouse – a two story - right by the water so everything was drenched in the perpetually moldy smell of an algae infested harbor. Parking the bike right on the curb, he got off the thing and lifted the boy out of the sidecar, this time hoisting him over his shoulder, and headed to the entrance of the building. It was locked, as usual, and after a few irritated fist pounds on the door and an unwanted conversation with Deuce, one of Slick's second in command (second being used loosely as there were three 'second in command') he was let in and headed to the main room, where Slick would probably be waiting.
He was right, Slick was there, as well as Droog and Boxcars and a few other thugs Karkat didn't care about. Walking right to the center of the big room, he dropped the kid unceremoniously onto the ground, making sure he wouldn't hit his head as the floor was concrete; spread his arms as if saying 'there, I did what you want' and turned and walked out of the room, ignoring the glare he was sure he was receiving.
Heading up a flight of stairs, he turned down a hallway to his room, yeah he lived in the warehouse, and flopped onto his bed, tired from the day, and fell into a dreamless sleep, all thoughts from the day slipping away from him, the job, the kid, and lastly, the soft playing of the piano.
A/N: so there's the first chapter. What did you think? Feedback is always appreciated :)