There were a lot of little things with Shane that ended up in the background of the series. The explanation for one of the stranger pieces of decoration in his office was cut from Backstreets.
The book said this was the time and place and Shane knew better than to distrust it. Even with the number of people milling about, he spotted enough of his allies among them. He was actually a little surprised how many of them there were.
It’s time, he told them, none of them so much as flinching as they heard his voice in the back of their minds. He walked through the crowd to a bald Irishman with an overgrown beard , currently surrounded by a mix of people loyal to him and those who were most certainly not.
“Kendrick,” Shane said, drawing the eyes of everyone in that cluster of people. “We need to talk.”
“Who the fuck’s this kid?” one of them asked. The woman knew full well who Shane was, being one of the first people he approached. She’d been itching to get rid of Kendrick longer than Shane had.
“One of the nokkers I got working the numbers,” Kendrick told her. “Make it quick.”
“You are done here.”
“I said you are done, Kendrick. Head back home. I’m taking over.”
Kendrick laughed, cracking his knuckles. Lightning races between his fingertips as he flexed them and raised his hand. “You think-”
Kendrick’s hand stopped just before it collided Shane’s face, electricity still arching between his fingers and as immobile as the rest of him. From the look on his face to the fabric of his shirt, everything about him was frozen in time.
Now all that was left to make sure that everyone else would fall in line. Looking around at the stunned faces and anxious fingers ready to lash out at anyone who made a wrong move, he knew that the the upcoming fight would be over quickly.
“Well then,” Shane said, turning back to the rest of the room. He reached into his pocket for his knife. “Is anyone else going to have a problem with that?”