Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Uploaded	By : HazardousRaptor Category: +G through L > Heavy Rain Views: 2688 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Heavy Rain, and am not affiliated with Quantic Dream, or Sony. (Sad to say) I do not own Norman Jayden, Carter Blake, or any offical characters contained within. I earn no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, and sex between two men. (In later chapters.)
"Being drunk is a good disguise. I drink so I can talk to assholes. This includes me." - Jim Morrison
U p l o a d e d
Jayden twisted his mouth as he "tsked" away Carter's dickish question; he made his way over and slowly took a seat next to the man who he swore he'd never see again. Actually, that's what he was hoping would happen. As always, he was shit out of luck. He noticed the lieutenant looked surprised, turning uncomfortably and visibly shaking, especially in his hands. This made Jayden twist a smirk into his deathly sick features, there was a very comforting and sickly satisfaction to making Blake feel scared, terrified even. All the people he's made feel like shit in his life; it was about time the tables were turned.
"I don't know…" The young agent droned on, shifting his gaze as he stared ahead towards the golden forest.
"I can't even remember what happened right up to it…The last I can remember…I was arguing with you. I went into ARI, and then like that…It was over. No white light, just…Silence. Then I opened my eyes…And I saw the sky. It took me a while to realize… to understand what happened…"
His voice fizzled out as he stared into the fake forest. Blake went to speak, and then hesitated, his mouth suddenly going dry. The man's Bostonian accent made him a bit hard to understand at times, yet the tone in his voice made it all too obvious what exactly he was feeling. Really, he didn't feel nearly as shaken as he did earlier in the day. Something wasn't right- This wasn't real. This was an illusion, but the fucking asshole found a way to broadcast himself across the device he now had sitting on his face.
"Yeah? Well, I call bullshit."
Carter sat back on his couch, admiring the feeling of the soft fabric against his tired body.
"How did you do it, huh? No, seriously…I want to know. You really did a good job- I'll give you that. Though really, you didn't have to kill someone to prove a point. Who was it, some homeless kid you found on the streets? Or knowing you bureaucratic assholes from Washington, I bet he just forgot to pay his taxes." Blake smiled, exposing his surprisingly nice teeth as he let the joy of revelation overcome him.
"Is that' chur theory?" Norman quipped, wishing he could be surprised by Blake's defiance.
"That's my fact," Carter spat, looking back towards the agent. "- and the sooner you come clean, the sooner we'aken just move right the fuck on."
To his surprise, Norman didn't seem to react. There was no yelling, no sudden outburst or threats. He just sat there, gaze looking blank and empty as he took in the artificial scenery.
'Fuck. He really does look real…' He scanned the agent up and down again, searching for flaws.
"-I think that's funny, actually." Norman began, interrupting Carter's thoughts.
"…Because I just got over realizing… I'm really fucking dead. When you take the ARI off, I can't just reappear back in my body…I just sort of, exist… I don't know how to explain it, really. I don't get hungry, I don't get tired, I don't even have to take a piss. I just…Exist. I don't feel fake, I don't feel alive, ee'thah. I have a heartbeat…And... I know things I really shouldn't. I know I'm dead. How can I know that? I don't even remember dying…"
"You know it because you faked it, that's why." Blake grinned and looked his way.
"Come on, kid. If you phony up now, I'll take it easy on 'ya. I'll even let you turn yourself in, I'm sure they'll give you a reduced sentence-"
Norman slapped his hands on his hips as he jerked around, a twitch of a smile on his face as he went to yell. His arms flew in the air, but then they fell back down as he found himself forcing a laugh instead, he turned, returning those hands to his narrow hips as he turned his back on the former rival.
"You know what? Fuck it. I don't even know why I care what you think. Fact of the matter is, that's not why I'm here, Blake."
There was a pause as Blake smiled widely, and Jayden had every urge to knock it from his bearded face. He paused when he realized that wasn't possible anymore- not much was possible anymore. Again, the horror of the situation clawed at him and he felt his heart convulse in what had to be a choked-back, withheld bought of sorrow. He would never see his family again- even if he never was close to any of them in particular. Never again would he be able to experience the joys in life, and fuck it, he'd do anything to even feel that heavy rain again.
"Yeah?" Came Carter's sardonic laugh.
He grabbed the beer and took another swig, then sat back as he rotated the glass in a circular motion through the air, holding it with his thumb and forefingers. His gaze went from the ghost-like figure he previously was terrified of- but now considered a harmless illusion. Now he watched the alcoholic, amber liquid swirl about the bottle underneath its blue and silver label.
"Why are you here, anyway? Got a message from 'beyond the grave'"? Blake chastised in a different tone, mimicking the sort of voice a parent would use to scare his child.
"Tell me, are you really that lonely? Died, and I'm the only one you can think of to visit? Don't you have someone else you can irritate the piss out of?" Finishing the beer in a final swig, he sat the bottle down and gazed lazily at the dead man walking.
Surprisingly, Jayden didn't say a word. Blake watched as he just stood there, gaze focused on the ground as he muddled about in deep thought. Biting his lower lip, Blake shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for some response. The kid's eyes were looking bloodshot, and realized he must have been crying before. His face fit the look of someone that's been dead for a good few days. His complexion was pale, translucent, actually. The bags under his eyes matched his own, puffy and enlarged as though he'd spent years awake at a time. Then he noticed the agent's hands trembling, shaking at an immense rate as he finally noticed it himself, and putting them into his pockets in modest embarrassment.
It was at this point that the cop realized something that made his skin crawl. Norman looked exactly like he did earlier in the day. Sick as a dog, pale, shaking with bloodshot eyes. Yet he didn't finish the thought as the other man began to speak up, diverting his attention.
"I'm not a ghost, Carter."
Hearing himself addressed by his first name, he scoffed and looked away. Still believing this was all going to turn out to be some elaborate hoax. Otherwise, none of it made any sense. Dead people just don't appear out of nowhere- or actually, virtual reality glasses, or whatever the hell they were. Either way it didn't make a shred of sense, he reasoned.
"Yeah, because you're not dead. What, you think I'm fucking stupid because I wasn't born with a fucking silver spoon in my mouth- didn't waste my childhood in your yuppie goddamn schools so I could be some hot-shit FBI agent? Well fuck me running, kid! I'm not stupid, and unless you start telling me the truth, you can get the fuck out of my house!"
Blake's attitude was expected, and Norman's face still drew a blank, disconcerting stare. He bit his lip as he stifled an outright scream into the temperamental lieutenant's face, something even worse to counter his bitch fit. Instead, he calmed and chose his words more carefully.
"-Actually, last I checked. You were wearing my fucking glasses. How'd you get them from me, Carter? Is that how I died? Did you finally off me out of jealousy and take them-"
"-you're really starting to piss me off, kid." Blake growled, his teeth clenching as he stared upwards.
"I robbed y'ur goddamn corpse. It was my job. Not to mention, nobody, and I mean nobody wanted them back. Not Perry, not even your precious fuck-buddies in Washington. If I used them to pay a whore, she'd probably screw up my blowjob."
This actually prompted a laugh from Jayden, which probably erupted from stress more then anything. He doubled over and grabbed his knees, laughing sharply as he caught himself from falling over. Afterwards he stumbled back a bit, obviously near some sort of a breaking point.
"So…Couldn't resist, huh? When I saw you earlier, you looked pretty happy. You know, I don't think I've ever seen you smile before… I'm used to you just acting like a sadistic asshole-"
Blake launched out of his seat, and the world fluttered out before him. Only his living room remained. Biting his lip, he spun around and searched up and down for that wily, uppity prick. It was really a shame, because he could have used a punching bag right about now.
'I probably have to be sitting, okay then…'
Letting out a breath, he sat back down at his couch and watched as the autumn forest come flooding back into his senses, and with it, the agent who took a seat next to him. It took him a minute to realize where he was, exactly.
"…You have to be sitting-"
"I figured that out, jackass."
Jayden smiled, just a little.
"So, you like them?" He asked, laying back into Blake's leather couch. Actually, it was pretty nice. He was surprised that he could actually feel it. The slick surface on his pantsuit and the way the soft insides of the cushion supported his weight. How the hell was that possible? Hell, he could even smell the alcohol on Blake's breath. He'd wince if he didn't tell himself this human interaction was better then a life of solitude in a canyon, forest, Mars…Or under the ocean.
"Ha. You know what? They're not half bad. Though I don't see how this did you any damn good when invest'gatin' a crime."
"That's because you're only using the stress reduction unit- only half of what ARI was designed to do. Did 'ya get my glove?"
Carter's eyebrows rose as he remembered the black glove the kid was wearing when he saw it with him. He had a feeling they were used together, but didn't think it was very important.
"…It's back at the precinct." He grumbled- now disappointed that he had forgotten it. Now he couldn't try out his new toy. It was like Christmas morning without the fucking batteries.
Norman nodded, looking forwards again as he studied the lieutenant's coffee table.
"You'll need that, too. No rush. Next time you go back…That's fine."
There was a pining silence between the two as Blake looked towards the agent, then averted his gaze. He couldn't even begin to believe how fucked up this whole situation was- talking to a supposedly dead man with a pair of sunglasses. Wasn't exactly how he expected his day to end up. He started to crave another beer, when he the question flew out of his mouth first.
"You said b'fore you were here for some reason?" His tone was un-amused, but curious.
The agent looked towards him his gaze only holding for a moment as he tried to see through the ARI and attempt to read the man's dark blue, insidious eyes. Then he looked away, sighing as he attempted to find a way to say it without sounding desperate.
"I…I need your help," Came the young man's plea. "…and you're the only one that I can trust now, it seems."
There was a brief pause, and Blake couldn't help but feel the laugh rising in his throat. He made no attempt to stifle it, because this moment was just too satisfying for his incredibly selfish ego.
"Blake-"
Norman's voice rose in warning, but it didn't matter. He launched into a laughing fit, doubling over as he couldn't stop himself. Tears were practically coming out of his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. Oh, this was too good! If he could take a picture of Norman's pissed, pale and utterly hurt face, he would hang it up on the fucking wall and stare at it for a mood-lifter every day. Oh, what was he talking about? He had the real thing, right here!
"No…no, no wait-" Carter caught his breath in-between the words. "Wait, I'll be right back- "
He let out a short laugh as he stood up, letting the world of ARI drift away as he made his way steadily towards the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he grabbed two beers and made his way over to the couch again. Stopping halfway, he walked back and opened a lower cupboard. In it was a bottle of Jack, taking it out and juggling them all as he made his way back.
Placing them on the table, another chuckle came out as he sat down. Norman spun around then took a seat beside Carter once more, even though it was obvious he was about ready to start screaming his lungs out at the man in blue.
"I brought refreshments!" Carter laughed as he went to take the top of the black-labeled whiskey.
"…Because this is a cell-ebraytion…"
"You're a fucking prick- Lieutenant." The agent swore.
"Yeah, well…Like I said, thanks. I mean, I love compliments. They just make my day, Norman."
"-When you got up, I fell on my ass-"
"Really? Oh man, I missed out. That would have been hil-"
"- and it hurt-"
"-Even better! I guess you should be glad you can feel pain in your position. You know, being dead and all."
"Fuck you. Sincerely."
Carter laughed again and took a drink from the tall bottle. Knocking back what would have been considered a shot from a glass. All shit, beer before liquor, never sicker…Liquor before beer…He remembered the old drinking rhyme, and now realized he was going to get fucked up fast if he didn't stop, which wouldn't be so bad if it also meant he'd be puking his guts out later in the day.
"You're going to get sick doing that." Came Jayden, and he was surprised that the kid seemed to just about read his mind.
"Mixing, I mean…"
Blake looked over to the agent and put the bottle down.
"What are you, my fucking mother? You know, you and her have a lot in common…Both liking men...being dead and all."
Popping open a beer, he focused back on the beverage. The wait for Norman's snappy response persisted as he took a swig. Instead, he could barely hold back the grin of sadistic glee that overcame his lips, curling hideously as he looked back at the agent sulking on the couch.
"Want one? Hey, you're a guest in my house…"
Norman glanced up, his features surprisingly empty. A look came into his eye that was like glass- as if they were fake. He sat statuesque for what seemed like minutes, but were actually a few long, agonizing seconds.
"You must think you're really fucking funny, don't you?"
"-Hilarious. Actually."
There was another silence, one that was obvious to both parties in the room. The geese flew over the treetops again, honking loudly as the fake animals made their way to their fictional breeding grounds. A wind began to pick up, and it felt far too real for the lieutenant. He shuddered, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the dreamscape forest.
Jayden's gaze traveled over towards Blake at the feeling of a cool breeze, and found he was beginning to grow pale. Immediately, he realized something was very wrong, and he felt the warning come up in his throat. Yet he bit it back at first, all the thoughts of the psychotic prick beating Ethan Mars flashing in his mind making him want to give the man just punishment for his deeds.
"-You should take them off.' Jayden mumbled just under his breath. Half hoping the lunatic beside him didn't hear.
"What?" Blake asked over the wind, starting to pick up.
Gritting his teeth from irritation, the agent spoke up again.
"I said take them off! Come back later…I'll explain everah-thin!"
Sneering, Blake grumbled in his throat and damn near laughed back.
"Really? Oh well, I'll just rush on back, Jayden. I can barely wait to see you again!"
There was nothing but the utmost serious expression in the young man's face, and as a result, Blake's sarcastic mood vanished.
"You're going to tell me what the fuck is going on. Right now-"
"If I stand here and tell you eveah-thin there is to know about AR-ee, Blake." Norman accentuated his last name harshly.
"…You'll be dead. Just like me, you'll be spending eternity in a pair of fucking glasses. With me. Really, Carter…I'm pretty sure we both don't want that, do we?
Taken aback, Blake responded as he felt a headache racking through his frontal lobe, just behind his eyes. He reached up and took off the ARI system, watching as the autumn forest blinked away in a few seconds time. The sounds ceased to exist, the lazy fall sun disappearing and replaced by the slight sun filtering into his windows stained by the Philadelphia pollution. The wind, the vicious gust that started to whip through his hair and sting his face- was gone. Stale air permeated the room as he tried his best to blink away the pain in his eyes…Which had accelerated to a stabbing effect.
"Shit…" Blake groaned as he grabbed his temples with one hand between his thumb and fingers, squeezing them briefly as he rubbed his eyes.
Raising his head up, he blinked several times as his eyes started to tear up. It had to be an effect from the glasses, he reasoned. Carefully, he stood up and walked over towards his kitchen, put his treasure down on the table and threw open his kitchen cabinet above the dishwasher. In it lined his few bottles of medication, and the occasional bottle of aspirin and store-brand ibuprofen. He had become resistant to many pain medications in his life, suffering from severe migraines in his youth and doing anything to relieve it, including the occasional illegal fix. Even what the doctors hooked him up with wasn't nearly enough.
Luckily, those had largely gone away. Only occasionally did he have a bought of severe agony that made him halt, made him cease all activity and want to beat down a nearby anything to satiate the dominating hatred he felt towards anything standing in his way. Slowly, he began to actually feel the effects of a fucking Tylenol or whatever anymore, though he took more then what was recommended. If it weren't for the fact that Carter came back with surprisingly healthy test results from his mandatory police physicals…He'd wonder how he kept living some days.
Opening the nearby, squat bottle of Aleve, he popped two pills and told himself that was all he should take. Then he made his way to the fridge and gulped down some milk to wash it down. For a moment he considering going back to the couch and having another drink, but he decided against that particular action for fear of getting even sicker. Instead, he stumbled over towards his bathroom door, and shut it cautiously as he began to turn on the shower.
He told himself it was still excessively early to shower. Really, he realized as he started to strip, that he had in fact washed a good eight hours or so ago. In the end, he knew it was more of a comfort thing. Unfurling his tie, Blake loosed it and began to unbutton his shirt. The steam from the shower began to rise and fog up the glass door of his shower stall, and took over the mirror from the medicine cabinet, as well as the small window nearby that provided the only link to the outside world. Luckily, it was too small and high up for people to catch a glimpse. Not that he cared much in particular- he just didn't need to be giving out free shows.
As he went to strip his pants- he was surprised when something glass clattered to the floor. "Fuck, what-" he cursed to nobody in particular as he blinked away the rolling headache in his skull, and bent to pick up the vial.
"Damn, that's right…" Carter remembered. "I never did hand over that other stuff. I wonder what else you hid from me, you little shit…"
Picking up the cards and ID badge, he scooped it all onto the bathroom sink. Flipping them over, he wondered briefly just how much the dead bastard made while being a criminal profiler for the FBI. God, he could only imagine. How many years of school he wasted away as he studied day and night, all so he could work for the federal government and make so much fucking money it would make Carter's head spin. Yet it wasn't so much about the money as it was about the sort of arrogence that came with it. It curled his lip when he realized that he had been paying Jayden's paycheck this whole time.
My fucking tax dollars at work. He sneered, and then actually chuckled a bit under his breath.
Carter imagined Norman had a comfortable life, probably had rich-to-do parents that footed his little college bill and supported him all the way. It made him see red- a sense of horrible anger flooding him when he thought of how he must have got whatever he fucking wanted all of the time, how he most likely lived in one of those upscale Washington apartments where the senators stay and practically fuck each other for political favors. Rich, spoiled little assholes…
For a moment, Blake entertained what his parents must have done when Jayden had come out to them. Oh no- their perfect kid is a queer. They'll never have biological grandchildren from goody-fucking-two-shoes-McGee. Never have a white-picket fence life with a big house, dog and three kids. It made Carter laugh aloud, and he did as he walked into the shower, closing the door behind him.
He moaned openly at the effect of the water on his body, and leaned back as the heat engulfed him. It did wonders for the pulsing in his head- which was only now beginning to subside. Leaning forward, he braced against the shower wall and felt it cascade down his back, arching it and doing the best he could to have the hard force from the jet massage his tired, strained muscles. It flushed his skin and made him feel pink, and shivered from the absolute fulfillment of his needs- the heat rising and comforting his entire frame. It relaxed, and soothed his body as well as his mind.
'…It's almost worth the pain to have the shower feel this damn good…' He mused silently to himself.
The shower lasted longer then he had anticipated, and he found himself not even using soap as he reached for the knob and shut it off. Immediately he felt cold and unpleasant as the warm water ceased to flow- and he almost started it back up again. He reasoned that the same thing would have happened again, anyway. So with a sigh bordering on a growl- he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the nearby bathroom cupboard, rubbing his hair vigorously as he attempted to rid himself of the soggy feeling of his graying strands dripping down his face. Wiping down the rest of his body, he took his robe and draped it upon himself, taking care to bring the cards and vial of blue powder from the sink with him.
Walking about his house in a robe at the fine hour at 2:00 in the afternoon, Carter felt like a slacking piece of shit. So the fuck what? Who was he trying to impress, anyway? Grimacing, he felt his stomach take hold and writhe at the feeling of hunger pangs as it growled viciously. It was then that he remembered he had indeed, emptied the contents of his stomach but mere hours previously. He didn't have much to eat in his house- the typical bachelor male that he was. The man didn't know how to cook much besides the back of a Ramen soup carton, the occasional microwave meal high in sodium and practically heart-attack inducing calorie content. He preferred to eat out-occasionally using his fear of death or sickness to order something that wouldn't kill him not far down the line.
'I could order out. Chinese sounds good…I don't know if I'm in the mood for that saucy shit, though. Eh. Pizza? No, I'm not that hungry. I could just order from the deli down the street. Fuck. Not in the mood for that either…'
Times like this he could really use a second opinion. In the end he really could give a shit, he'd eat whatever. He really wanted something to hit the spot, though. Half the time he flipped a coin, and always regretted it down the line. When eating a sub, he wished he had chose a pizza. When eating soup, he wished he had cooked up that microwave lasagna.
'Just flip a coin you dumb fuck. You're ass isn't getting any less hungry stand'in here picking things over like a woman.'
God, why did he have to be so fucking helpless? It was just his food, for Christ's sake. Suddenly an entertaining thought came to mind, and he found himself pulling the kitchen chair away from the table as he had a seat. Reaching across it, he once more took hold of ARI and looked down at the virtual reality device- even if it felt far more powerful then just a virtual reality…More as if it simply overlapped it.
Slipping them on, he was surprised to once again find himself somewhere completely different. It looked like an endless desert, hills of sand and rock flowing endlessly into the horizon. The air felt warm, and somewhat humid. Yet even he knew the air wasn't humid in the desert. It tasted…strange. Like he could taste the sand in the air. Blake looked up and was shocked to find two moons in the sky, one of them just slipping beneath the horizon. Then there was the sky, which in itself was not even blue. It was more of an orange or brown, and the moons themselves were obviously not those of Earth.
"It's Mars." Came a voice behind him, and he found himself again surprised by the man's presence.
"…It's taken right from some video footage they took of its surface- they wanted to be as accurate as possible. It's funny because in real life you'd never be able to even breathe. Thankfully, they overlooked that part. Instead it just doesn't feel fresh…Beautiful, though."
Norman looked away from the moons, back towards Blake as he sat at his kitchen table. He took in the sight, and found a smirk forming on his lips at the sight of the police lieutenant dressed in a light blue bathrobe.
"Take a shower…?"
Blake nearly blushed when he realized he hadn't changed yet. His black hair cling to the top of his head, the occasional rivulet of water making its way down his face.
"Oh, aren't you smart…" Blake chided, licking the top of his lip and giving Norman an evil eye.
"…Don't be gettin' any ideas over there. I don't swing that way."
Watching as Blake tilted the glasses down, perhaps to take the pressure off his nose…The agent actually chuckled, a smile brushing his face as he walked closer to Blake and rested his hands on the table, gaze traveling to meet his angry dark blue eyes as they looked over the rim.
'I had no idea they were blue. Why the hell do all the assholes always end up with such nice eyes?'
Surprising himself with that thought-, he didn't dwell on it too much. He couldn't help but let his eyes attempt to catch a glimpse of a naked Carter Blake beneath his robe, a sort of morbid curiosity. How big was he? He had to guess not very; from the way he threw his weight around every time someone questioned his authority. As his eyes went down briefly, all he could see was the small amount of hair on his chest. His eyes shot up at the thought that Blake may very well be noticing that- and looked at him dead-on.
"Don't flatter yourself- you're not reall-ee my type." Norman brushed off.
Carter scoffed, and looked at him sideways as he pushed the glasses up.
"Aw now, you just hurt my feelings. And here I thought we had something together."
With a slight laugh and an embarrassing smile, Jayden blushed only slightly as he took a seat across from the almost- naked man. No, Blake wasn't his type. Yet he was willing to joke with him about it as much as possible, because Jayden was still a man. A man who may have liked other men; but to him just about any man was starting to look good at this point. Being dead rather limits your options.
"So, back so soon?"
"I need a second opinion." Blake admitted, and it made Jayden stare ahead with slightly parted lips in confusion.
"Well, what?"
"Chinese, or Italian?"
There was a slight confusion as Jayden blinked, and titled his head,
"Sorry?"
"I can't decide, Chinese food, Italian…A deli? I'm fucking hungry."
There was a silence as Norman looked at Blake with a look of pure and utter confusion.
'Uh, what?'
"So…You want me to tell you where to eat out-"
"More like eat in, actually. I'm going to have it delivered."
Another pause came from Jayden, and he shrugged his shoulders and leaned back into the hard kitchen chair.
"Uh-Well…There was that place down towards Eastern State that made pretty good burgers. I think they had delivery."
"Oh, fuck! Yeah, Five Guys…I haven't been there in forever. Hey, you're good for something after all…"
Norman made a face of irritation as he watched Blake about to remove his glasses, and then found himself moving his lips.
"Wait! Don't- not yet…"
Blake actually did stop, and looked towards the agent as he shifted slightly in his seat.
'Goddamn it. I have to make this good if I want him to listen.'
"What? I'm fucking starving- make it fast."
"I…" Jayden swallowed, knowing he had to appeal to whatever humanity the lieutenant might have had if he wanted to get his point across.
"I need you go to D.C. for me. My house-"
"Whoa! Whoa, kid." Blake put out his hands and laughed out loud.
"If you seriously think I'm gonna drive all the way down to D.C. for anything involving you, then I think you' n a reality check."
"-All the way? Shit, Blake. It's only about two hours!"
Jayden didn't want to remind Blake that he was, indeed alive inside a vitural reality device, and therefore had no idea what the fuck reality was anymore, but bit his tongue.
"Two hours is a lot when you have no interest in actually fuckin' doing it."
"Just hear me out, Blake! I mean, fuck!" He exasperated, eyes widening and hands gripping the table.
There was silence, and in amusement, Carter folded his hands and nodded. Jayden wished he could see his eyes, just so he could get a hint of what was going on inside his head.
"I need someone to take care of some things in my house. By that I mean, I need to make sure my family never sees it. They'll get the house by default, seeing as I didn't have a will. The eef-be-eye will confiscate things soon, if not already. There's things I was testing and working on with ARee that were never supposed to see the light of day, but I don't want them to have it. It's too important; if they have it back it will be destroyed. I know how they operate…"
Blake made an "hmmm" noise in his throat as he looked the agent over from head to toe, make believing that he was indeed considering the trip.
"How do you know they haven't already? Shouldn't the Feds work a hell of a lot faster then that?"
"True- but there's no hurry on their end. They knew I lived alone. It was part of protocol that everything wasn't to be touched for a good 72 hours. Something to do with making sure all the agent's paperwork was in order before he was declared ah-fficially deceased. There was no concern for me, so they're taking their good, sweet time."
Nodding, Carter kept a straight face as he turned his head and looked towards Mars' oddly colored moons. To Norman, it looked like he was at least considering it. It seemed he was the type of man to enjoy the occasional challenge. Screwing over the FBI seemed to be right up his alley.
"Sounds interesting. But what's in it for me?" Came Carter's cruel tone. He kept a stone face, so he wouldn't give away any interest he may have had in the errand.
Norman knew this was coming; knew the cruel, selfish lieutenant wouldn't do anything…Not even take a step out his door unless it benefited him in some way. So he cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that formed there, hoping Carter would even consider the proposal.
"I can pay. I have funds stored away- both in my house and in the bank. There's no reason why they shouldn't still be there. I can give you my codes; you can take it all…"
A smile and a nod came to Blake, and for a moment, Jayden entertained the thought that maybe he would agree to help. He got too excited too soon.
"You know, as much as I'd love to go on a drunken, drug-induced hooker rampage around D.C. with your money, I must say you would have to have a pretty fucking substantial amount of cash for me to even drive halfway down the road- because I have more then enough cash to make it through my life pretty com-fort-bly- and if you think I even need your fucking money, you're being the same hotshot little shit that you were when you were still alive, Norman."
Blake said his name with a sneer, his lips practically spitting his first name like a curse. He could feel the waves of positive rage emanating from the police lieutenant, and without removing the ARI, he knew those eyes had to be pinned on him.
"No, I…No, of course not. That's not what I meant, Blake…"
"Don't fucking play coy with me, Jayden!" Came the man's venomous attitude.
"I'm not here for a fucking pity party- I don't need your money. You had better come up with another way to pay me for this little shit-stirring errand or I'm not even going to continue this fucking conversation. I'm not gonna risk my ass and get arrested by the feds for some dead faggot to have some peace of mind!"
Wincing at his cruel words, Jayden looked through the corner of his eye at the sand below. Grinding his teeth, he took a deep breath and let it out. He wished he understood what was going on with him…How he could feel so alive, yet be so dead. So fake. How he could wonder about parts of Mars and suddenly find himself face-to-face with his arch rival of a few days ago, and yet not be hungry, not want to satiate his body with what it needed, yet felt the urge and need to breathe.
He had experimented already, and when he tried to make himself pass out by holding his breath, he did just that. How he could actually even sleep, and dream, while in the make-believe world of ARI. How he could feel Carter's couch and now his kitchen chair, or even smell his beer-stained breath. How he could feel his own heart pounding inside his chest as he tried to convince the man across from him to help him out…
"I could teach you to use AR-ee; I can tell you everything you want to know. You'll be solving cases like nothing; you'll catch the Origami Killer and be front-page news. I can promise you-"
"Save it, asshole." Blake interrupted.
"I don't need your fancy glasses to get the job done. We know who it is, and it will be only a matter of time before we have him."
Norman tented his fingers in front of his face, his own anger and frustration starting to reach their limit. Eyes wide, he looked the lieutenant over and held as plain an expression as possible.
"What do you want from me, Blake? There's only so fucking much I can do for you. In case you haven't noticed, being dead limits my abilities just a little fucking bit."
Carter steadily looked to be getting more and more perturbed, and with a smirk that seemed more menacing then playful, he finally cut the kid loose.
"Then think of something. I know you don't have anywhere to be…You'll have all the time in the world to roll that little one over. In the meantime- kindly fuck off. I'm a busy man, Jayden."
With that, the young agent watched as the older man reached up and began to remove the glasses. He seemed to ignore his protests as he disappeared from the harsh, unforgiving landscape. And in doing so, he once again found himself falling on his ass. Luckily, the sand broke his fall this time.
"Fuck!" Jayden swore, jamming his hands into the sand below him in a rush of frustration.
Biting his bottom lip, he wondered what would become of the squabbles between his family. Who would end up with what. His family was so fucking selfish- mother and father long divorced. Between them, he had five half-brothers and sisters to add to his own older sister and younger brother. All of them would want a piece, but he didn't want any of them to have a fucking thing. He loved them, sure, but only in the sense that he knew he had to. Jayden only ever felt close to his mother, his father working or whoring around too much in his youth to ever feel a bond. His older sister watched him most of the time, and his uncle on his father's side taking up some of the slack.
Yet they all came from the upper-class crest that was the Boston well-to-dos. Hell, they even knew the Kennedys, and he knew that because they bragged about it constantly. Though he did remember going to the odd New England barbeque and meeting the well-known family on a few occasions. Nice enough people. He recalled.
None of his own family had to work much in their life, succeeding in stocks and other means of an effort-free lifestyle. He had been expected to excel at an early age, but did so in a way that undermined their expectations. Norman had been a bright, if sometimes troubled, child. He got into law at early age, and before he knew it, he was expected to work for the government. Not that he didn't want to...it was a well paying job that would earn him great respect from not only his family, but from just about everyone in his community.
It all happened so fast, he barely had time to enjoy his teenage years. Going straight from a private school to college, he found himself working at the FBI with the highest of honors, having excelled at his grades and rising to the top of his class. Yet the whole time he remembered thinking he didn't actually enjoy the satisfaction nearly as much as he wished he could. Didn't wallow in his own gratification as he stood up, smiled, and shook his new director's hand. Couldn't say he'd look forward to traveling the crime-ridden streets of D.C. as he made his way to work every morning. Just because he was knowledgable in the field didn't mean he actually looked forward to facing it head-on or experiencing it first-hand.
Even now, he missed his old home back in Boston. Though technically his favorite place to live was their vacation home back in Martha's Vineyard. It included many fond memories from his childhood, before he was too young to know not everyone could afford a house so big, and a view so grand. Not everyone could afford a childhood like his. Yet they could all just about afford to be ignorant, and Jayden sure was. Therefore, when his parents divorced, he just assumed it was a normal thing, barely registering the pain it caused until much later in his life.
Just then, Norman's eyes just about shot open until his eyelids couldn't go any further. Because he wasn't on Mars anymore- he was there.
The ocean breeze flowed through his hair, and he stood up to admire the way it smelled as it came in from the steep sea cliff. A smile came to his face as he inhaled, letting it fall over him like a drug. Like the drug he did surely miss, but no longer required. Or, for that matter, even take if he wanted to.
As the gulls called, he looked backwards and saw the old Cape Cod style house, white with red gambrel roof, lattice covering the corners of the large, open porch that lay outside the massive home. On it sat a large swing, and some rocking chairs. He hoped that maybe it was like a dream, and in doing so, he could see his mother sitting there again. He remembered how she wore a white, clingy old sundress and would have her hair up in a ponytail. She would have freckles from head to toe from being in the sun too much, her pale blue eyes matching his own. Her favorite drink of choice would always been a lemonade that she loved to make herself.
Nevertheless, no- she wasn't there at all. Not even her smell, not even a noise.
Jayden sighed, and surprised himself when for the first time since he "died", he felt a hunger pain. He blinked, and then waited. It happened again, rumbling as it signaled to him to give it some food to digest. Did he really need it, or was it just another cruel way to torment him in this hellish purgatory? Feeling hungry, with no way to satiate himself?
Norman didn't know what to do- he felt sick now. Disgusted. What did this all mean? Was this actually Hell, and he was led astray by his own intellect the whole time? Was Blake actually the Devil, sent here to torment him?
'Maybe Nathanial was right…' The agent smiled to himself.
Yet what was up with these hunger pains? How could he go without them for so long? He couldn't even begin to fathom what sort of power ARI actually held. Apparently, it was far more influential then even he could imagine.
Walking up to the white swing, he took a seat and heard it creak in response. He wondered how ARI could gleam this all from his mind- how it could get every nook and cranny. Even fill in the blanks of things he most likely have never seen about the house. If he lifted a floorboard up, there would be something underneath it…There would be dust. There might even be a rat. It was almost…Supernatural in its abilities. Yet he knew from their test trails it was more like a dangerous nuclear warhead that just so happened to be placed in the right hands- or so he thought. Not anymore, now that Blake had them in his questionable possesion. It was even more limitless then what he had anticipated.
Rocking back and forth, he found comfort in the chains squeaking as he moved. His face was blank as he watched the ocean. All he could do was hope- and pray- that Blake's curiosity once again rose to his bait.
'Save me some fries, you son of a bitch…'
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Uploaded