Plague went before him; pestilence followed his steps.

- Habakkuk 3:5 NIV

Everywhere he looked he saw red, felt that unending rage overwhelm him until it wasn't only the alcohol blurring his vision. No matter how much he drank or how far he went he could feel their eyes on him, always, and he hated it. He hated them. Betty using their son as a bargaining chip in the divorce, his father's company men who gave him nothing but lip service…

Kevin clenched his fist again, anger flowing down his arm, into his hand, and into the broken man kneeling in front of him. Feeble hands beat at him, growing weaker with every swing of his fists, but he was blind to it. Deaf to every plea until the only thing he heard at all were the voices. Betty calling him a worthless drunk; using his visitation rights as blackmail for more alimony. His father's company giving him a corner office and huge salary, but treating him like an idiot, no matter how many degrees he had.

Blood boiled in his veins, and he heard an audible snap that managed to break through his haze only to find it had been the sound of his victim's neck snapping beneath his hands.

Slowly the world around him came into focus, and no amount of alcohol could filter out the glazed, dead look in the other man's eyes. He tried to fight down the rising fear, his every breath coming more quickly than the last. Kevin tasted blood, felt it pooling at the corner of him mouth, as slowly the ache in his knuckles turned to a heavy throb.

He stared down at his now blood stained hands, and could no longer deny the dead man at his feet. Fear turned to all-encompassing panic. He'd killed a man, beaten him to death with his hands. Kevin stripped off his coat, and tried to scrub the blood and bruises from his knuckles but he only succeeded in painting his entire fist red.

His ex-wife was right, he was just a worthless drunk and now he'd killed a man in a shitty alley behind a shitty bar. He was going to jail; going to prison. His ex would get everything in the divorce now. His home, his money… his son…

Kevin jerked his head up. His son… Betty would never left him have visitation now, not after this. Not after he'd killed a man, and what judge would side with him after he'd beat a man to death in a drunken brawl.

He sucked in a shattered breath, a shred of hope glimmering in the distance. He was rich, incredibly rich. If he paid enough money to the right people he might be able to bury this. He had always suspected his cousin had mob ties, and for the first time Kevin desperately wanted it to be true. He dug into his pocket for his phone, clutching it like the lifeline it was and called him, hoping he was still awake.

The phone rang, and Kevin stopped breathing altogether, waiting desperately for the other line to connect.

He heard the unmistakable sound of his cousin Brian greeting him with a cheerful, "Kevin is that you?" and sobbed in relief.

Across town, in the front seat of a dark four door sedan, Brian stared down at his phone in disbelief. Since when did his stoic, and sarcastic cousin display such emotions? "What's wrong," Brian demanded, his voice all business, as fear shivered up his spine.

Kevin slid down the cold brick lining the alleyway, slumping onto the wet pavement beneath him, "I didn't mean to," he swore, swallowing down the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. "It was an accident."

"Kevin," Brian tried again, deliberately keeping his voice quiet and his tone neutral, "what did you do?"

"I was just so angry," Kevin pleaded, trying to distance himself from his own guilt, "I couldn't stop hitting him."

It didn't take long for the blonde on the other end of the phone to put the pieces together. Brian hung his head, glad that Kevin couldn't see the regret and disappointment that crossed his face. He knew his cousin had a drinking problem, but he had no idea it had gotten this bad. Kevin was the college graduate, the family man, the heir to the family fortune. He wasn't supposed to be the one who beat someone to death in a drunken rage.

"Where are you," Brian asked, careful to keep any hint of what he was feeling from his voice.

Slowly Brian was able to pull the details from his drunken cousin, and then he turned back to look at his boss occupying the back seat, thanking whatever god that might be listening that it was Harvey and not Harv that was with them tonight.

"Do we have time for a pit stop?" Brian asked, one hand half over the mouthpiece of his phone. "My cousin just beat some poor bastard to death behind a bar," Brian paused, and then added a quick, "he needs my help," in a quick appeal to Harvey's better nature.

Before Harvey could answer John cut in with a surprised, "Kevin?! You mean Kevin with the double masters? The computer and accounting guy who works for your uncle?"

Brian nodded sharply, "yeah. He's about fifteen minutes from us."

Harvey looked at Brian and saw actual concern on his face. Not some manufactured emotion he'd memorized and learned to fake so he could blend in with society, but honest to god concern for someone else's wellbeing.

He could be useful. Harvey suggested, knowing that his other half was always listening.

He's a drunk. How useful can he be if he can't even control himself.

John was VERY useful, once you broke him of his heroin habit, Harvey reminded him.

John was desperate, Harv countered with a sneer.

So is this guy. Besides, refusing the request is only going to sow animosity between us and our two most dependable employees.

Harv snorted in disbelief, Who gives a fuck!

I do, Harvey ground out. They're loyal, they're smart, and they've earned the occasional act of generosity.

There was a pause as Harv weighed the pros and cons of flipping for it. If we get there and he's a worthless piece of shit, I'm shooting him anyway.

"Fine," Harvey replied shortly, ignoring the surly response from his other half, "but make it quick. Harv's not feeling as generous as I am tonight."

Brian thanked him, and then returned to his phone call. "I'll be there in ten, can you hide the body?"

Kevin swallowed hard at the request, and then glanced down the alleyway to where it opened onto the street. Traffic was light this time of night, but even in his drunken stupor he saw the need for caution. He answered in the affirmative, and then heard the line go silent.

It took him several minutes to build up the nerve, but finally Kevin reached under the dead man's arms and quickly pulled him behind a nearby dumpster. As soon as he was sure the body was out of sight, he let go and then scrubbed his hands against his slacks, as if trying to erase the deed.

Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen hours, and every time he heard the passage of a car, he was torn between fear that it was a cop and fear that it was his cousin. He'd heard his cousin ask permission to stop, and while seeing evidence of his cousin's mob ties wouldn't have been a shock, it had never occurred to him until now that it might not be his cousin helping him out. It might be the man he worked for. He was starting to wish he'd asked Brian more about his work life.

Kevin heard the approach of a vehicle, and he stuck his head out from behind the dumpster, only to see his cousin climbing out of the front passenger seat of a nondescript black car. Stepping out from behind his hiding place, Kevin took a deep breath and met the eyes of the only family member he'd ever cared about.

"Are you okay," the blonde asked, giving him a quick once over.

"Yeah," he nodded in response before grimacing and offering Brian a dejected, "I'm sorry to do this to you."

Brian met his stare with a grimace of his own. "I think that's my line."

Kevin's brow furrowed in confusion, and then Brian nodded to the car behind him. "If I hadn't been with the boss, I probably could have cleaned this up quietly, but now," Brian shrugged helplessly. "Now you have to ask him."

For a second Brian thought his cousin had stopped breathing. "You're serious?"

The blonde nodded. "Deadly, and the longer you make him wait, the worse it'll be."

Kevin looked back over his shoulder, as if reminding himself that he was quite literally out of options. "Fine, who is it?" Kevin asked, squaring his shoulders.

The grim look that crossed this cousin's face was not encouraging, "Harvey Dent/Two-Face," Brian responded.

He opened his mouth to respond, but found that there was little he could say to that revelation. "Thanks for the warning," he nodded at Brian, before walking past him to join Harvey in the back seat.

As Kevin entered the car, John exited from the driver's side door, providing his boss with the privacy he'd requested on the drive over.

"So you're Brian's cousin," Harvey spoke, his eyes sweeping over him, not missing the way Kevin's hands shook.

"Yeah," Kevin answered out of reflex, trying like hell not to stare. "We grew up together."

"Is that from fear and adrenaline, or the alcohol?" Harvey nodded at the tremors, abruptly switching topics to keep him off balance and ensure the most honest answers.

Judging by the surprised look that crossing his face, it worked. "Both I guess."

He nodded, and then, "Brian told me you have a family."

"Uh… yeah," Kevin agreed, deciding that Harvey's continued silence meant he was supposed to elaborate. "I have a son," he admitted cautiously before adding a begrudging, "and an ex-wife."

His last remark earned him a bitter smile from Harvey, before he narrowed his eyes at him. "Have you ever hit them?"

The sudden flash of anger and snarled, "no," were answer enough. He might not have ever hit them, but his temper clearly rivaled Harv's.

Harvey's eyes hardened, "my father was a violent alcoholic. If I decide to help you, the drinking stops until I say otherwise."

Kevin started to object to the suggestion he was an alcoholic, but one look at the sheer hatred on Harvey's face stopped him. "That's it?" Kevin asked instead. "That's all you want?"

"No, but that was my only request." Harvey offered him a tight smile. Kevin furrowed his brows in confusion, not entirely sure what that last comment meant. Then Harvey grimaced painfully as Harv shoved him out of the way to finalize negotiations, and any confusion on Kevin's part dissipated under the sheer malevolence in the other man's stare.

Harv curled up a lip in disgust at the man in front of him. Despite what his worthless fucking employees had said the man in front of him did not look like a computer and accounting genius. His clothes were wrinkled, he reeked of booze, and he clearly hadn't shaved in days. He'd obviously tried and failed to scrub the blood from his knuckles, and while his brute strength might have been useful, men of that caliber were a dime a dozen.

Kevin felt a trickle of sweat roll down his spine at the sudden murderous intent the man in front of him radiated, and then the full force of that menacing gaze was staring him in the face . "Why the fuck should I help you? You don't look like you're even worth my time."

Harv didn't miss the slightly panicked look on the other man's face, and pulled one gun free of his holster. He rested the barrel lightly against his knee and offered him a glare cold enough to have frozen hell itself. "Why shouldn't I kill you right now?"

Any remains effects of alcohol disappeared under the extra adrenaline flooding his system, and Kevin couldn't help but think of every slight he'd suffered at the expense of those fucking assholes he worked with. Those bastards would never accept him. They were incapable of seeing past his last name; unable to find the value in the man underneath. There was no guarantee the man in front of him would be any different, but if he was going to die, then fuck all if he wasn't going to make sure this nut job knew exactly what he'd be losing out on.

"Because I'm smarter than both your current employees put together," he told him with a cold smile of his own. "Sure Brian's exceptionally violent, and John has always been resourceful, but they can't hack bank software, build nearly impenetrable computer networks, or hide ill-gotten gains through the creation of shell companies."

"And when I ask you to murder someone?"

Kevin swallowed, hard. "I thought that's what they were for."

The smile that crossed Harv's face was chilling. "Oh Brian doesn't just murder people for me," Harv gloated, "he tortures them. I think he enjoys it more than I do."

"But," Harv drawled, enjoying the shock on Kevin's face, "if he's busy entertaining someone, I might need you to fill in." For a second Harv thought the man across from him might get sick, and his smirk grew.

"You work for me," he added, "then you do exactly what I tell you to."

"I thought I would do you a favor and then…"

"Never see me again," Harv finished, cutting him off abruptly. "I do this for you, and I own you. Or," he shrugged, "you can go to prison. You're call."

Harv ignored the stunned look from Kevin and knocked on the window. Within seconds, Brian had opened the passenger door and was helping Kevin out of the back seat. Kevin looked into his cousin's face, and before he'd even made it all the way out of the car, "you torture people for a living?!"

Brian shot his boss and unfriendly look, quickly shutting the car door when Harv started to move the gun in his general direction. "Yeah, I do." Brian admitted with a scowl. "I like it. I like hurting people."

"And you want power and respect," Brian added, grabbing the collar of Kevin's shirt and spinning him so that Brian was standing between his cousin and the car window.

"Do you know how many people answer to me," he scoffed releasing the taller man so Kevin could lean against the brick for support. "Hundreds," he gloated. "If someone so much as looks at me wrong, I can do whatever I want to them. I don't even have to dirty my hands if I don't want to."

"The down side is the risk of prison time. Which," Brian added, "I shouldn't have to remind you that you're facing that now."

Despite his many faults Kevin had always been a decisive man, and it didn't take him long to work through his limited options. "I don't really have a choice do I?"

Brian sighed, and Kevin could see the regret in his face, "No," he admitted. "You were fucked the minute you killed him." He paused and then added, "Calling me just sealed your fate.

"And if I said no, would he even let me live?"

Brian hesitated, "I don't know."

"Would you do it?" Kevin asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. "If he ordered you to kill me, would you do it?"

"No," Brian admitted quietly, "I couldn't kill you anymore than I could kill John, but it wouldn't matter. Even if we turned on him, which is a very dangerous conversation to be having, the other rogues would hunt us down. And that's assuming we survived in the first place."

"There's three of us," Kevin scoffed.

"And I guarantee he has a gun pointed at John and me, right now. That glass isn't bulletproof, and he's a very good shot."

Kevin started to comment on that last statement, until it dawned on him where exactly Brian had placed himself. His back was facing his boss's car window, and any bullet fired from the car would go through him before it ever reached Kevin. He was acting as a shield for him in case things went south.

"I need an answer," Brian prompted, ignoring the mix of emotions crossing Kevin's face as he realized exactly what Brian was willing to risk for him. "Are you in or out?"

"Well I always said we needed to spend more time together," Kevin retorted caustically, falling back on their old habit of using sarcasm to mask their fondness of one another.

His response heralded the return of Brian's trademark crazy grin, and he turned to give John the thumbs up, ignoring the way he best friend rolled his eyes. Within minutes John and Brian had organized their people to start cleaning up the mess in the alleyway and Brian was shoving Kevin back towards the car.

"I am going to get paid for this, right?"

John and Brian both winced. "Well talk about it later," Brian assured him, "just don't mention money to the boss."

"Why, are we broke?" Kevin asked.

"No, he's loaded, just cheap," John explained, "Very cheap. Give it a day or two and then we'll ask Harvey."

Kevin gave them both suspicious looks, but climbed into the backseat at Brian's continued prodding. Harv growled at the reappearance of his apparently new employee, and ordered them to the nearest safe house with a shower.

Pestilence:

1 - A contagious or infectious epidemic disease that is virulent and devastating; 2 - something that is destructive or pernicious

(Merriam-Webster dictionary)

And yes, I'm still hard at work on my next main chapter. I've not abandoned Mack. She was merely taking a long vacation.