CHAPTER 3
I'm too young to die. Harris thought.
He had just turned 40 two months before. His family, his wife and two young girls, had even thrown a party for him. But he had not been able to make it. He had been, like he always was, called away to work.
Amanda Waller ran his life. He had considered a thousand times applying for a transfer. But one thing always made him stay. If he was not there, keeping an eye on Waller, making sure she didn't go too far, who would be?
Greg Cane, that's who. A man who's ambition outweighed his morality. Harris new if he was to step down, that Cane would gladly take his place. And Harris would never, never trust Cane to be the failsafe for Waller's nut ball schemes.
So here he was. Following orders. Here to represent the government and offer Bane a new job position.
The landlady had showed Harris the way before quietly retreating back downstairs. He had seen other doors on the way up. What would it be like to have Bane as your neighbor? He wondered.
Harris unbuttoned and then buttoned again his suit in nervousness. Normally Rick Flag would have done this. He would have known how to handle Bane, whereas Harris had few ideas. He only prayed that Bane was in a good mood. Finally, he knocked.
Heavy footsteps could be heard from inside. "Who is it?" A voice creaked.
"Jason Harris. I'm with the DHS. I'd like to speak with you."
"About what?"
Harris could feel Bane's eyes staring at him through the peep hole. "About a job offer."
"Not interested."
"It'll pay $60,000 a year."
Silence.
Harris swallowed uncomfortably, not sure what to do. Then came the sound of chains and locks being opened. The door swung open.
The apartment was dirty. The carpet was stained and multiple pairs of dirty jeans were laying about on the furniture. And in the center, standing just into the room, was Bane, wearing a pale blue Pugs not Drugs T-shirt and cargo pants.
"I'm listening."