Return of the Tower Conqueror

Chapter 4: The Return (IV)

The Return (IV)

Ah, sweet L.A., Cain took a whiff of fresh air as he stepped out of LAX and removed himself from the sea of people. Hundreds ran left and right, everyone too busy with their own stories to care much for everyone else.

The city that Cain was seeing, however, was distinctly different from the one he spent the majority of the last twenty-five years in. While the obvious lack of the Tower that at all points of the day had half the city in shade was there, it was more about everything else. The style, the nuance, the buildings, the people... L.A. from his memories lacked all of this.

The skyscrapers would eventually turn into fortresses, airports would completely stop working within fifteen years, streets of the city were rarely populated as you would mostly find people within or around the Tower. It wasn't just L.A., but he was hardly a frequent traveler in the post-Towers world and mostly stuck to the city and its immediate area.

Sighing, he pulled down the sunglasses and adjusted the single bag he took with him before looking for a cab.

Half an hour later, he was sitting on the sidewalk and weeping silently as he'd forgotten just how impossible it was to actually hail a cab at the airport. He even called twice only to have his own rides snubbed by someone. He looked like a man beaten, slumped over, a cigarette he barely took two whiffs of burning between his fingers.

"... you need a ride?" a voice of what Cain could only describe as a God extending a helping hand jolted him to reality as he looked up, meeting the pair of eyes that looked at him with faint bemusement.

"... Rick? What the fuck?!" Cain exclaimed in wonder, his lips gaping. Is there really that much serendipity in the fucking world?!

"Ha ha ha," the middle-aged man bellied out a burst of laughter, patting Cain's shoulders. "What a coincidence, huh? You should have told me you were coming to L.A., man. You could have tagged along on my jet!"

"... you've got a jet?"

"I've got three."

"... and you approached a random guy on the street to borrow a lighter?" Cain stood up and dusted his butt off, looking oddly at Rick. "It's true what they say, huh? Rich people can't be understood..."

"Well, I don't know about being understood," Rick chuckled. "But I do have a limo with air conditioning waiting for me. Care to tag along?"

"Yes, of course," Cain quickly nodded, tired of seeing other people board cabs while he stays behind, roasting in the sun. "I would have never pegged you for a big shot, you know?"

"Oh? Why's that?" the man asked as the two began walking toward the other side of the parking lot.

"We chatted for like five minutes and yet you didn't tell me just how better you are than me," Cain replied. "Nor advised me that I gotta work hard in life to make an earnest living."

"Ha ha ha, no, no, I spring that on people ten minutes in. You were just lucky."

"And, also, you laugh way too much," Cain said, smiling lightly. "Never met a rich man who laughed so earnestly."

"What does the rest of them do?" Rick asked curiously.

"Mostly brood," Cain replied. "And buy stuff they don't need to impress people that hate them."

"Aah, yes, I sympathize with the second one," Rick said, clicking his tongue afterward. "I once bought a quarter of a park because one of the guys that short-sold me played there with his kid."

"... dare I ask what did you do?"

"Turned it into a nature reserve," Rick replied with a bitter chuckle. "I may be a petty bastard, but father-to-father, I'd never fuck over a man like that."

"... ah, there it is -- telling me how much better than me you are. Man, you really were right on the money -- ten minutes."

"Ha ha ha, told you -- it's in our bones. Ah, here we are," Rick came to a stop and Cain followed, quickly noticing the massive, silver limousine laid out before his eyes that had him drooling in envy. "She's a beaut, ain't she?"

"... you own or rent?"

"Own."

"Tsk," Cain clicked his tongue, barely managing to stop himself from humping the damn car. "No wonder rich people like to travel. No bustle, no annoyances... everything's taken care of for you, huh."

"Part of it, yeah," Rick chuckled as the driver opened the back doors for them. Interior was just as, if not even more, impressive as the exterior, Cain mused. Leather seats, tinted windows, a bar, a TV... it was more like a hotel room rather than a car. "Part of it is that we've got no clue what to do with so much money..."

"Gimme," Cain shrugged. "Can't be much worse than tossing it into stock market's nether, eh?"

"Ha ha ha, haah," Rick sighed deeply after the bellied laughter, shaking his head. "It's... been a while."

"... what has?" Cain asked as the car started.

"Since I could talk with someone like this," the man replied. "Usually, it's all games and virtue signaling and empty gestures."

".."

"Sometimes, I truly wish my life was exactly how people see it from the outside looking in."

"It's not?" Cain quizzed as he casually reached for a bar and poured the two of them each a glass of whiskey.

"Hardly," Rick scoffed, taking the glass and a sip. "Do you know what my sleep schedule is?"

"..."

"Whenever my brain literally can't function anymore and I just pass out," he continued. "And am lucky that no one rocks me awake for a few hours."

"... I took my daughter out for ice-cream two days ago," Cain said. "To tell her I have to travel half a country away 'cause I'm fucking broke and that I won't be able to see her for months. Miss me with that shit, dude."

"Ha ha ha ha," Rick burst out into laughter at Cain's response, nearly dropping the glass of whiskey. "Fine, fine, you got me. Truth is, I do enjoy the thrill. All of us up there do. It's not even about the money anymore as we have way more than even the longest of lifetimes and the craziest of desires could deplete. It's just about out-fucking the other guys, really."

"... do you regret it?" Cain asked.

"A bit," Rick nodded, looking out the tinted window as they made their way onto the highway. "I wish I spent more time with my kids before they realized they were too cool to hang out with their dad. Now it's just dinners, and me asking a million questions only to get 'uhum, yup, yeah, sure dad, I'll leave now 'cause you're annoying'..."

"..."

"What about you? Any regrets?"

"..." Cain smirked lightly, realizing that the number was yet to be invented to number his regrets. No, it's more like twenty-thirty, what the hell... "A few, here and there."

"... you married?"

"Divorced. You?"

"Still together," Rick replied. "I believe she loves the money more than she hates me. Why did you two separate?"

"She was good," Cain replied, taking a sip of whiskey. "And I was a drunkard jumping from one job onto the next, never realizing just how good I had it before it was too late."

"... here's to the heartache."

"Cheers." silence fell between the two men as the silent engine of the car beat the monotony.

Cain had fallen to the trap of memories, and so did Rick from the look on his face. It was peaceful, the former mused, and earnest. Though, in all fairness, compared to the twenty-five years he'd lived through... virtually anything would resemble a paradise in comparison.

"You mentioned you're here for work, right?" Rick suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"Yup." Cain nodded.

"What sort of work if you don't mind me asking?"

"Labor, mostly," Cain shrugged, maintaining an indifferent expression through his lie. "A buddy of mine opened up a company and started renting an office so they need a jack-of-all-trades sort of a guy to do their bidding."

"... you don't sound enthused." Rick mused aloud with a chuckle.

"I'm already waking up with lower back pains," Cain snickered. "My body isn't exactly happy about the upcoming wreckage."

"... I've an opening for a job as my assistant." Rick said suddenly.

"No you don't." Cain glanced at him with a smirk.

"I could."

"... why?"

"I like you."

"Plenty of people like me."

"I highly doubt that."

"Hey, uncalled for."

"Sorry," Rick chuckled, taking another sip of the whiskey. "But I am serious about the offer, Cain. You could be like the wee-old jesters. Tell me how it is without sucking up and kissing my ass all day long. I'll let you rent one of the apartments under me for free as long as you work for me, and I'll kick you off with one hundred grand a year."

"... you really don't know what the fuck to do with your money, huh?" Cain sucked in a cold breath at the offer, wondering whether serendipity truly did exist after all.

"... I've had more fun talking with you in what, twenty minutes? Than I've had talking with my other assistants for years now. If I make a joke at their expense, they are practically an inch away from kneeling at me and apologizing, and don't ever even mention them making a joke at my expense."

"... I can't work standard hours, I'm afraid," though he was baffled by the offer, Cain, after all, didn't actually come to L.A. to work -- just to establish himself and silently wait for the Tower to descend.

"... what if I said 'please'?" Rick grinned at him.

"... you aren't used to people telling you 'no', are you?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Get used to it, then. From experience, I can tell you it can be a bitch."

"You don't have to work conventional hours, then," Rick persisted, causing Cain to stiffen a groan. "Be my coffee-drink-lunch buddy."

"... the hell's that?"

"A friend."

"... wow," Cain took a deep breath. "That might be the most depressing thing I've ever heard in my life."

"And it is definitely the most depressing thing I've ever said in my life."

"... I don't mind being a friend," Cain replied with a smile. "But from the sounds of it, I'll be more of a trophy wife with that treatment."

"Ha ha ha, hey, I have one, may as well grab the second, ha ha ha..."

"... type in your number," Cain handed Rick his phone. "And give yourself a call. Lunch, dinner, drinks, whatever -- I'm in as long as you're paying. And drop me at the Ace Hotel."

"... fine," Rick relented with a sigh, taking the phone. "If you ever need back surgery, just remember -- I'll be more than happy to pay for it."

"I feel so appreciated right now..."

"Joke all you want," Rick said, handing the phone back to Cain after dialing his own number. "That shit is really fucking expensive."

"Everything here is fucking expensive," Cain said with a smile. "Even friendships, apparently."

"... miss me with that East-Nation wholesomeness," Rick said with a chortle. "And get out. We're here."

"... that was quick." Cain said, glancing out the window and realizing they really were in front of the Ace Hotel. "Well, thanks for the ride."

"If you need help with anything," Rick said. "Don't hesitate to ring me, alright?"

"... I will," Cain nodded with a smile as he stepped out. "Take care, Rick. The world's going to crappers quickly; be safe about it."

"... you too."

Cain stepped to the sidewalk, watching the beautiful limousine speed off into the distance. Taking a deep breath, he spun around and walked into the hotel, booking a room for a whole month straight which immediately set him back nearly eight grand. This is it, he mused as he stepped into the room, stretching lazily and tossing the bag onto the bed before he himself jumped on it, relishing the feeling of the soft mattress beneath his back.

And, thus, three months rapidly went by... and the day Cain had been anticipating since his return arrived, August the 8th, 2026, to the tune of the scorching sun and noisy streets.

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