THIEVES.| ❝It seems to me that love could be labelled poison and we'd drink it anyway.❞
❪ marvel| AU❫
❪ oc x shuri udaku❫
❪ started: 2018-02-21❫
❪ cover by clairvovages❫
❪ extended summary inside→❫
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THE OUTSKIRTS FORCED Caleb to grow up. When they first moved there, he'd got a job as a waiter at a nearby restaurant when he realized how much his mother was struggling. It had been his first job and he still worked there whenever he got a break. His other job was for a company that dabbled in everything. He was used to working with numbers; he had to be since his job mostly consisted of managing accounts. He'd been at the job for three years now. It wasn't his only job but it was the most lucrative. The job description was tricky; he did everything from delivering mysterious packages to tracking people down. But lately, his boss had realized his knack for crunching numbers and he was stuck behind the computer more often than he liked.
He walked over to the small cubicle that he called his own, shaking his head at the mess at his desk. He made sure to clean it up the night before but somebody was determined to frustrate him. Amongst the mess of papers was a pick slip that read delivery in block letters. At the bottom was his name. Caleb's eyes widened and he turned the paper over to check that he was seeing correctly. It read the same thing.
"Shit," he whispered to himself continuously. This could not be happening. They had a deal. He talked to Micheal. He turned around, anger in his eyes and hatred in his steps. He stalked past the cubicles and down the hallway. He couldn't believe this. He didn't want delivery.
Caleb wasn't going to pretend to be a good person, but he did whatever he could to survive. He knew that his job was not a good one, but it paid well. The company that he worked for made and dealt weapons. Weapons made out of vibranium. Those were illegal in Wakanda unless it was for the army. Wakanda was a country built in peace and unity, and there was nothing unified or peaceful about military grade weapons. But in The Outskirts, people had stopped caring about what was right and more about making a living. Caleb fell into that category.
Yet, when he'd been offered the job by a man who knew his mother, he'd been worried and was morally torn about being involved. He made a deal with the man to keep his conscience [mostly] clear. He wouldn't be involved with delivery of the weapons, he'd simply help with accounts and money. Micheal had held up his end of the deal for as long as Caleb could remember. Until now.
