Alright author Notes are back.

So Geese was kinda lowkey in ch2.

He's gonna be a monster when people start threatening him don't worry. I'll do the man justice.

Kain is not the genius he thinks he is lmao.

Thursday morning found Kain R. Heinlein scheming.

Every morning found Kain scheming.

He sat there in his humid drawer room, whose walls were cluttered with ancient collector's books - none of which he'd read. The misty morning light filtered in from dusty stained glass windows, and fell upon the sharply dressed man with a cellphone pressed to his head. An unseemly grin marred his finely sculpted features. Evidently, he was liking whatever he was hearing.

"You're certain?"

His voice was charismatic and lilting, likened to that of a professor or banker. If one were to observe Mr. Heinlein, they would never come to the conclusion he was a disgraced member of America's most influential mob. The idea that this - almost girlishly beautiful man - was responsible for overseeing some of the most vicious acts of bloodshed in Geese Howard's rise to power - was entirely incomprehensible.

*Yes sir, dead Certain. The Gang has been quiet about it and they've acted accordingly. One of our men saw his men frantically cleaning out the warehouse last night. They were throwing ammonia everywhere. You know what that means… the tip was solid.*

"Who was it?"

*Anonymous sir… but he sounded Foreign. They mentioned names. CIA Agents: Kevin Rian, and Marky DiBrando. It only happened last night, a couple of hours ago.*

Kain pursed his lips. Strange. Information traveled fast, but not that fast. Who was this informant? Were they themselves the killers? Perhaps the Agents' families were looking for justice. Perhaps a gang insider with a grudge against the boss?

In any case - although the tip wasn't the greatest, he should at least investigate. Perhaps he'd head to SouthTown and assess the situation with his own eyes. He still had many good friends in his precinct, and discovering the truth under Geese's nose wouldn't be difficult. No matter how loyal, Geese's men would talk. After all, his reputation preceded him. It took a lot more than 3 years to forget what Kain R Heinlein was capable of.

"..."

*Sir. Should we book a flight?*

Kain didn't reply. He placed his phone down on the coffee table and pressed his fingertips together to think. His associate knew not to hang up.

Return to SouthTown? Return back to his old stomping grounds, where he and his brother-in-law used to reign the streets in terror? He should never have left… rather, he should never have been forced to leave. What that bastard Geese claimed was a 'fiasco' was nothing of consequence. That deal was a shitty one anyways, and killing the Cali representatives was just good power-play. They were drug dealer's for god's sake… what kind of honour did Howard Connection owe them? Nonsense… Geese just wanted him out - and he got the fucking police to chase him into hiding.

Disgraceful.

Shameful.

And now, after 3 years of close surveillance from his outpost in Brazil, it was high time for his return. Geese Howard had finally slipped up. Killing a Fed? A bad blunder… it wasn't enough to take Geese down by itself, of course. The kingdom wasn't so fragile… but if Kain went on offense at the same time. If he gathered troops - amassed power, perhaps allied himself with others who had been slighted by Geese… then the empire would fall.

And then he'd seize the throne.

The idea made him tremble in anticipation.

This was an opportunity that wouldn't come again in a very long time - SouthTown's kingpin was as careful as he was strong. You didn't conquer the underworld by making mistakes. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He'd take down Geese Howard - and Kain Heinlein knew exactly who he'd call upon for help. Someone with powerful blood running in their veins.

Kain picked the phone back up.

"Book my flight to SouthTown. Use a new passport."

*Yes sir.*

"And find my nephew for me… I want phones and addresses."

*Your neph-... ah. Yes sir. Right away. The car is waiting outside, sir.*

"Good."

Kain hung up and leaned back into his leather armchair. He looked around his dusty mansion, and let his lips twist into a grin. Today was the last day he'd be trapped here. This place was a symbol of his prison, of his obscurity. He'd burn the thing down.

With the flick of his finger, blue flames lashed out like a whip - igniting those ancient, unread books. As flames crackled and licked at his heels, Kain left the mansion the burn. Today, the war began.

BROOOCKYYY

lmao.