Disclaimer: Me no own .-.
I noticed that the previous chapters were kind of, how you say? Not going anywhere. So I'm trying really hard to make this story make sense. So yeah...
1997, New York City
He is supposed to be getting a birthday card for his mother. A simple gesture that suggested he did in fact love her. Write a little 'I love you, Mom.' or 'you're a great mom.' on the inside. Maybe with a little heart, and he'd take her out to lunch. Or was it dinner? He wasn't sure. He was high off his ass.
Anyway, so he goes into Rite Aid. Fully intending to buy a birthday card and get the hell out before someone calls a cop on him, but he sees something on the rack that makes him stare. For a long time. Father's Day cards. What's worse? Father's Day cards with pictures of fathers.
There's one in particular, that he can't take his eyes off. It's a little boy playing baseball with his dad. They both have happy smiles on their faces. It disgusts him! Completely revolts him and he has to stop himself from both gagging and attacking the whole rack.
"Um, sir?" He hears a voice say and he lolls his head to his right, where the voice came from.
It's one of the employees. A teenaged girl about the same age as him. Maybe a little younger. She has blonde hair and tanned skin and she's wearing a white blouse underneath the Rite Aid vest. The small nametag says her name is Tammy. "Are you okay?"
He shakes his head slowly.
"Do you want help?" Tammy asks.
He shakes his head again.
"Okay." And she turns to leave. She gets to the end of the aisle and he knocks the whole card rack to the floor with a loud crash.
"Oh my god!" Tammy exclaimed putting her hand over her mouth. The customers who were in the same aisle stared at him. He didn't blame them. He was going berserk, and he kind of liked the attention. He kicks it and some of the cards fall off, scattering on the floor and he kicks it again.
"Sir!" Yells a police officer. Great, he thinks to himself as he sees the cop aiming a taser at him. Where the hell did he come from?
"Is the taser really neccesary, officer?"
"Calm down and I won't have to use it." He asserts, stepping forward. He bends quickly, (and I can't even stress how quick), and picks the whole rack up and throws it down the aisle. Narrowly missing a man looking at hair products.
The police officer pulls the trigger and he's sent to the ground, shaking as fifty thousand volts travel through his body.
Later That Day...
"Na na na na. Na na na na. Hey hey. Goodbye." He sang, gripping the bars in his hands.
"Shut up!" An officer, chubby with a bushy mustache, yelled from his desk.
"Na na na na. Na na na na. Hey hey. Goodbye!" He sang even louder.
"He'll never love you, the way that I love you."
Turning, he sees a big man, sitting on the bench. Wearing an oil stained tanktop with heavily tattooed arms. He had a graying beard and a bald head with a huge smile.
"'Cause if he did, no no. He wouldn't make you cry."
"He might be thrillin' baby but a-my love." Joined in dark skinned man who was in the cell as well. He was extremely skinny with a shaved head and clothes that hung off his body like a robe. His voice like that of an angel's. A jazzy angel. "So dog-gone willin', so kiss him."
"Go on and kiss him goodbye, now." The tattooed man added.
"Na na na na. Hey hey. Goodbye." They sang altogether. "Na na na na. Na na na na. Hey hey. Goodbye!"
Spinning around, and almost falling, he sees another officer unlocking the cell and opening it. He's fit for a cop with a no-nonsense look on his face. He looks Spanish. Puerto Rican. His nametag, just above his shiny gold badge, was Oliver Ramirez. He knew this cop very well. He was friends with his mother, and admittedly, arrested him several times. "Now I don't want to have to put cuffs on you, but if you try anything I will."
"Aye-aye, Captain!" He replies and salutes like an all-too-happy soldier.
"Yeah yeah. Get out here." He saunters out of the cell and officer Ramirez locks the door. Taking a glance at the other two men in the cell, he leads him away.
"What were you thinking, kid? Throwing a card rack like that."
He thinks for a moment and says, "It boosted my self esteem?"
Officer Ramirez grunted and led him down a hall and then right into an office. He stopped just before the door and turned to him, "now you're gonna go in there, and I'm going to hand you a phone. You're gonna call your mom and ask her to pick you up."
"Why?" He said in a whine. Like a spoiled child who was being forced to do something he didn't want to do.
"Because you're stoned now come on." Ramirez pushes open the door and they enter the office.
It's a plain office. Three desks and a counter. The room is painted a pasty white while the tiles that made up the floor were a sickly green color. Theres a pay phone on the sidewall where they are standing, and Ramirez walks toward it.
"Here," he says opening his palm and placing a quarter in it. "Make it quick and to the point."
He puts the quarter in the coin slot and takes the phone bringing it up to his ear, punching in his mother's number. It rings for a time and then someone finally picks up.
"Hello?" Says a tired voice.
"Hi, are you okay?" Concern filled her voice then.
"Uh," and he sighs the h out until he loses his breath. Breathing he adds, "you know. In jail. Same ole, same ole."
"Again? God, Jake. What for now?" He can tell she's disappointed. Nothing new. He was born to disappoint.
"Apparently, I'm under the influence of a mind altering narcotic while in the puplic population." He answers smiling to himself and scratching his head.
"I threw a card rack."
"I'm on my way. Fifty-seventh precint?" She asks and it sounds like she's moving around and he can hear the jiggling of keys in the background.
"You know me so well." His smile widens.
"Don't cause any more trouble."
"Okay. Oh and Mommy?"
"I love you." He says in a voice like that of a five year olds.
"Bye." She says, and then hangs up. Leaving him with the dial tone. Putting the phone back on it's set, he turns to Ramirez who had been standing there waiting.
"So? Ice cream, then? I could go for some Rocky Road."
About An Hour Later...
"So, how's your mom?" Ramirez asks, before taking a bite out of his sandwich. He's sitting with Ramirez at his desk. Patiently awaiting the arrival of his mother. He didn't answer Ramirez. His eyes were glued on the sandwich in his hands. That delicous looking, mouth watering, stomache growling, juicy, toasty sandwich made by the very gods of sandwiches.
"Jake!" Ramirez says, loudly. Knocking him out of his sandwich-induced trance.
"I asked how was your mom?"
"Fine, I guess."
"You guess?" Ramirez says it in a very fatherly tone. Making Jake want to jump on the desk and punch him in the face.
"Fine. She's perfectly fine." He says it with disinterest, and he's not even paying attention to Ramirez. It's the sandwich. That damn, delicous, juicy, breathtaking sandwich.
Oh god. Is that bacon? That's bacon!
"You know you're drooling right?"
Jake brings a hand to the corner of his mouth and wipes the bit of saliva there. Wiping it on his jeans afterwords.
"Here," Ramirez says handing him the other half of the sandwich. "You gotta case of the munches."
Jake takes it and looks at it like it's made of gold, then takes a huge bite out of it. "Oh!" He groans, throwing his head back. "This is the most delicous sandwich my tastebuds have ever had the privilege of tasting!"
Ramirez just nods taking another bite of his half.
"I'm looking for my son. Jake Muller." He hears someone behind him say. And it's definitely not his mother.
Turning in his seat, jaw dropping with half chewed pieces of bacon, ham, cheese, and mayo clearly visible. He sees a man by the front desk. Tall, muscular build, gelled back blonde hair and eyes hidden behind expensive looking sunglasses. Wearing a black suit.
"Oh shit." Jake says, sinking in his seat as the officer he spoke to, a woman, pointed in his direction.
"That your dad?" Ramirez asks, setting down his sandwich.
"Uh huh." And the blonde man looks directly at him. Or he thinks he's looking at him. You can't really tell with those damned glasses.
"Oh shit." Jake repeats as he walks over to them.
"Jake." He says, towering over him.
"Dad. When did you come back in town?" Jake sounds uneasy as he speaks. No one could blame him. Ramirez got chills just being near him. And not the good kind of chills either.
Ramirez stands and holds out his hand. He should at least be polite. "Mr. Miller?"
"Wesker. Albert Wesker." The blonde one says taking his hand and giving it a short, firm shake.
"Unfortunately." And he glares down at his son. "I'm taking him home."
"You just need to sign some papers before he can leave." Ramirez hands Wesker a clipboard. Jake gets to his feet and stands behind Wesker as he starts to sign the papers. He brings his finger across his throat and waves his hands as he tries to tell Ramirez that he's being signed over to the Devil himself without letting the Devil himself see that he's warning him about the Devil himself.
"Here." Wesker hands Ramirez the clipboard and turns to look at Jake. "Lets go."
And just like that, with the click of a pen, his soul belonged to Wesker.
There's no satin sheets. Or rose petals scattered all over the floor. Or scented candles with flickering flames. It's not gentle, and blissful. No. It's rough and up against the wall, tearing at eachothers clothes. It's in a tiny bedroom in a boat. In a dying world filled with monsters from anyones worst nightmare. It also happened to be the best night of their lives in a long time.
Their hands move fast as they are filled with euphoria and desperation. They wanted their clothes off, and they wanted them off now. So bad that his nails had ripped the cloth of her shirt, and if he had to rip the whole thing to shreds then goddammit thats what he was going to do! No flimsy piece of cloth was going to stop him from reaching the beautiful flesh underneath and RIIIPPPPPPPP!
"Shit. Sorry." Carlos says, holding her shirt in his hands. There was a large whole in the stomache now. Showing off her bellybutton.
"It had to come off somehow." Alice says smiling, grabbing his face and continuing the kiss they were lost in just a couple of seconds ago. He pulls the now ruined material over her head and tosses it to the floor. She's messing with his pants the whole time. Trying to unbutton it. His hands roam her abdomen and chest until he decides that her bra has become a nuisance as well. Unhooking it, it falls to the floor and his hands immediatly go for her exposed breasts.
Got it! She thinks as she pushes down his pants along with his boxers, and they both smile through the kiss.
"Oh god! Make it stop!" Nat yells in agony as he presses his palms to his ears. Chris looks at him and laughs. They had been hearing moans and screams from the inside of the boat for the past thirty minutes.
"Don't be such a priss. This is probably the most action you've ever gotten in your life."
"If hell existed," Nat says. "This would be it!"
They were sitting in lawn chairs they found inside the boat on the deck. Guns in hand keeping watch for any zombies or other unimaginables. Like an infected whale or some shit like that.
"Come on, Nat." Chris leans back in his chair. "It's just a little moaning. About time too."
"Wait, you approve of this?" Nat's leaning forward in his chair staring at Chris with a questioning glare.
"Hey! At least someone's getting laid here!"
"It's a madhouse! A madhouse!" Nat says waving his hands in the air.
"Carlos is a lucky bastard." Chris whispers to himself, staring up at the dark cloud filled sky.
Okay it may not make ANY sense now, but it will in the next few chapters which hopefully I won't take too long writing. You know, sometimes I question why I continue writing this. It was only supposed to be a one shot. Oh well! :D
Thank you readers so much for taking the time to read these craptastic stories. (I doubt myself fully.) You won't be disappointed!
Oh, and expect more flashbacks. ;)