Cutscene: Family Life

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The wheels on the cherry-red Camaro squealed to a halt, wheels threatening to diverge on the curb as it came to an oddly diagonal stop in front of a simple cookie-cutter house, one of nigh-uncountable many in a neighborhood full of quickly made cookie-cutter houses.

Within the vehicle, a gloved hand moved behind the wheel, the powerful engine silencing itself completely as it pulled the key from the ignition. Pocketing the key before anything else, the driver sat quietly in the car for a few seconds, pinpoint pupils staring straight ahead before his head began to list towards the right.

It only took a moment for him to catch sight of something that pulled his satisfied grin sharply downwards, his face now bearing an annoyed grimace. "Fuck." The word came out a harsh whisper, the driver's hands twitching as he seemingly held himself from submitting to the urge to punch the wheel. "FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck!"

At the end of the quiet tirade, he let out a frustrated hiss of air, both expelling themselves with force from the driver's mouth as he pushed on the wheel of the car, the back of his leather jacket pressed tight against the driver's seat as he held back another curse. The custom leather of the wheel squealed slightly as he gripped it, lanky fingers stretched wide as he furled and unfurled them. Another sigh left him, somewhat muffled this time under the hand he raised to rub his bloodshot eyes. He raised the same hand higher to rub at his forehead, bottle-blond bangs brushed aside as his fingers massaged away a growing stress headache.

Jaw tight, the man reached down and to the right of him, fingers quickly closing around something and retreating with it as he raised his prize to his face. Despite the sun already beginning to set, the Brockton Bay sky lit up in shades of orange and red, the blond man carefully put on a pair of dark sunglasses, only pausing to adjust the eyewear slightly with one hand as he opened the car door with the other.

As the door slammed shut behind him, the gloved man took his time walking around his sports car. His mouth twisted up in a roguish grin that was almost entirely forced, a single hand trailing along the side and back of his Camaro as he kept both eyes locked on the house in front of him.

More specifically, his gaze was focused directly at the man standing defensively on the porch of said house, both arms folded over his slender chest. A pair of light blue eyes glared warily at the approaching man from behind a set of horn-rimmed glasses, his own brown irises a stark mismatch despite both their faces looking oddly similar otherwise.

The new arrival continued walking forward in silence, showing off freshly-whitened teeth in a wide grin. The grin remained as he raised his gloved hands up to his chest, palms facing outwards as if to say 'see, I'm harmless'.

Finally taking his first step across the property line, he raised one hand a bit higher to offer the other man a wave. "H-"

"What are you doing here, Cameron?"

Cameron didn't pause his forward motion at the interruption, not even flinching at it as he continued towards the porch. The man standing on the porch, however, seemed to lose his grit the closer the other man came, his glare losing heat with each step. When they finally stood face-to-face, barely more than half the length of a ruler between them, he allowed his grin to lessen into a closed-mouth smile and cocked his head slightly. Taking a shallow breath, he finally spoke.

"Kenneth Isaiah Duncan…" Cameron threw his hands out to the side, his smile brightening authentically as the man on the porch fought a flinch at his sudden action. Black sunglasses stared back at clear frames, open arms within a leather jacket directly across from a pair of folded arms over a yellow sweater vest and tie. "Is that how we treat our family? Your own little brother?"

He took no small bit of enjoyment at the almost-flinch on his older brother's face at the use of the word little to describe himself, both well aware that if it wasn't for the roughly seven inches of height the porch gave him, he and Ken wouldn't exactly be seeing eye-to-eye.

Letting out a laugh, Cameron dropped both his hands on his older brother's shoulders, the smaller man buckling slightly. Shrugging his sibling's hands away, Kenneth tried to keep his glare strong as he scowled back. "I told you never to come back here."

"That was a whole month ago."

The bespectacled man looked blatantly confused for a moment, expression shifting to one of annoyance and outrage as he bit back. "Don't play with me, Cam."

"Kenny, brother, just… try and relax, okay. I'm not here to mess with your little happy suburban…" Cameron snorted as he threw a dismissive gesture at the entirety of his sibling's home. "Whatever."

Despite flinching at the nickname, Kenneth remained unmoved. "This is my house," he stated firmly. "I have a right to know what you're doing here."

"What, a man can't stop by to see his family now?" Cameron replied with fake hurt coloring his tone. "Is that the kind of world we're living in?"

Kenneth's eyes narrowed.

"I missed my big brother."

The blatant lie rolled off his tongue with ease.

Seconds passed as they remained silent, the quiet sounds of a suburban neighborhood around them dying down as the sun slowly fell from the sky.

"Fine, fuck you," Cameron spat after the better part of a minute went by in silence, true feelings bleeding through his expression as he frowned at his sibling. "Malcolm called me."

"No. Don't even try it." Ken told him flatly as he shook his head, having seen through the lie as soon as it met his ears. The guarded look in his eyes didn't vanish as he shut down his little brother's attempt to spin another untruth off of that one. "He's been in his room since we brought him back from the doctor. No phone."

Fuck. Cameron raised his eyebrows. "Okay… fine," he said with a sigh. "Some friends of some friends let me know that Malcolm got fucked up the other day."

"Yeah, I bet they let you know. Why wouldn't they, right? From what I know, this all leads back to you. You and your friends," Kenneth snapped, body tense as he held his brother's gaze. "You know why I told you never to come back here."

"He's an adult."

"He…" Heat bled into Kenneth's voice as the smaller man hissed back, actually taking a half-step forward in his anger. "He… My boy was sixteen before you and your people warped his mind."

Cameron raised a hand to scratch at his hairline, fingers idly pulling aside a lock of his dyed-blond hair as he stared down his older brother with silent malice. "Get the fuck out of my way, Kenny."

"I want you to turn around and lea-"

"And what about it?" Cameron interrupted, taking a half-step forward on his own until he and his brother were chest-to-chest. " What are you gonna do if I don't, Kenny?"

Silence.

"You gonna fight me?" he leaned forward, whispering in his older brother's ear. "Ken Doll gonna grow some balls and throw a swing at his little bro? Is that what's gonna happen right now?"

Ken remained rigid.

Yeah, that's what I fucking thought. Cameron leaned backwards, looking his brother up and down with a smirk as Kenneth refused to say a word. "Now get the fuck out of the way so I can see the kid."

Not bothering to wait for him to actually move, Cameron shoved his brother aside and went for the door. He paused with a single gloved hand around the doorknob, the word "pussy" leaving his mouth in a quiet mutter, before shaking his head and stepping into his brother's home.

It only took a single step inside for him to stop and sniff the air, delicious smells greeting him as he entered and making his mouth water. The man in the leather jacket walked into the kitchen, steps quick but light. A moment later, an unpleasant smile crossed his face as he spotted exactly who he was looking for, a long head of creamy blond hair above a shapely figure humming to herself as she moved ingredients from counter to pan.

Her attention on whatever she had cooking on the stove, the woman was entirely unprepared as she turned around to face the six-five figure in a leather jacket and sunglasses as he waltzed into her kitchen.

"Hey, Clarissa… sweetheart. You miss me?"

Her eyes widened as she stared with an open mouth, giving the tall man time to drink in her face. Man, 17 years later and she's still amazing.

"C-c...Cameron?" The name struggled and stumbled it's way from the housewife's mouth as she took a step back, expression betraying her discomfort. "Whe… I mean… h- Hello, Cameron. It's nice to see you."

"That's all I get? A hello?" The other man scoffed, striding forward into the kitchen with his arms open. "Come on, we're family. Give your brother a hug."

Cameron Duncan felt his brother's wife freeze in his arms as he wrapped them around her, body rigid and tense with only the softness and warmth of skin to separate her from a statue. It was only as his hands drifted lower that he felt movement return to her, first with a shudder and then…

"You… Don't d-"

"Shhhhh." He smiled as he held his sister-in-law tighter, not that she could see it. His sister-in-law let out a gasp as he squeezed again and made an attempt to push him away, but Cameron held tight, prolonging the uncomfortable embrace. "Mmm-mmm-mmm. If we weren't family…" We could have been more than that, though.

"C-Cameron!" Her voice was little more than a squeak.

"Mmm-hmmm, it sure ain't Kenny."

"Yes, because he's right here."

Cameron Duncan inwardly stifled an exasperated groan before it could pass his lips. "Of course you are," he called out without turning around, sarcasm edging his words as he addressed his brother. "You think I didn't know that?"

"I'm sure there's a lot you don't know, little brother," Kenneth bit back. "We could be here all day talking about it, but you won't. Now finish your business and get out of my house."

Cameron's expression slackened

Clarissa remained stock-still, barely even breathing as her husband's brother gave her one final squeeze. Before he finally pulled away from the not-so-familial embrace, he bent slightly to whisper in her ear a few parting words that left the housewife just as rigid as before. "Still tight as ever, ain't ya?"

With that said, Cameron turned around to face his brother, a bright grin on his face to counter the bespectacled man's burning glare. He knew those eyes well, his only remaining family eyeing him like a stranger being something he had grown used to since he was in his mid-teens. Despite that, he wasn't fazed, simply stepping forward to near the other man. "You know, it's rude to talk to a man like that. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd think there was bad blood between us."

Cameron Duncan lifted his sunglasses with a grin plastered on his face, brown eyes pinpricks as he shot a look at the smaller man that called himself his bigger brother. "But like you said, there's a lot I don't know. Ain't that right, Ken Doll?"

Silent threat, delivered with a smile.

"I'll be going to take care of that business now. Be a good boy, Kenny, and fix me a plate. We'll have ourselves a nice family dinner." He clapped his brother on the shoulder harder than was strictly necessary, brushing the man aside as he made his way towards the stairs to the second floor of the house. Annoyance spiked in his chest as he stomped up the stairs with slow, deliberate steps, his forced smile fading away to leave a frowning grimace in its place.

A little girl with creamy blond hair like her father and mother and distinctly unlike his stood halfway across the threshold of her room as he reached the second floor landing, a confused expression on her face as he walked right past her without pause. "Uncle Cammy?"

"Hey there, Marilyn," he replied back, not even bothering to slow down as he continued down the hallway. A tiny voice at his back shouted "It's Madeline!", not that he bothered to listen or really cared all that much.

In seconds, he had reached the room he was looking for, the "Do not Enter" written in black with skull-and-crossbones below it confirming whose room it was if he didn't know already. The door creaked as he threw it open, welcoming him to the the chaotic mess of a cluttered bedroom and the teenager lying on top of an unmade bed.

A surprised face that looked like the spitting image of his own stared back at him with a hard-to-parse expression, the dark bruises all over his kisser likely making it a challenge to interpret anything in particular from just a look.

"Uncle Cam?"

His response was immediate and rushed, one gloved palm raised up to keep his nephew from saying another word. "Yeah, kid. It's me. Don't bother talking. I heard all about it."

"Y- you did?"

Cameron nodded. "Yeah, you brawled with some kid who wanted to one-up the big man. That shit's normal. He was the right kind, though, so you lost but it's not as big of a deal."

Malcolm Duncan blinked, managing to look confused past a face full of bruises. "What do you mean, not a big d-?"

"What did I just say about talking, Mal?" Cameron barked. "I love you, kid, but shut the fuck up when I'm trying to tell you something important."

Mal quieted down almost immediately, leaning back on his bed without even putting up a token resistance.

"Anyway, you got in a fight. You got your ass kicked. No big deal, right?" Cameron turned suddenly, a snarl on his face. "Wrong. The big shit on the floor I'm seeing here is that apparently, this mutt — a black-beanjew, the fucking shit cocktail — sucker-punched you in the middle of your fight, right?"

"...Yeah," Mal answered bitterly, a few seconds of silence preceding his reply.

"If I'm getting this right, the little shit spit on you too?"

"...He did."

"See, that's the shit we can't let stand. Any other day, if that happened to one of my crew, I'd call up some boys and we'd shoot up that fuckin' house of roaches. But this is special. You're family, Mal. You're important to me." Cameron began around the room, arms crossed as he kicked aside any piece of clothing unfortunate enough to be in his path. "I got something special coming up. Something that I want you to be a part of. You're gonna take care of this yourself, little man. Let me lay it out for you."

At the end of it, Cameron spoke for a good ten minutes, giving his nephew everything he needed to know about what he had in mind.

At the end of it, Malcolm just smiled.