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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Author's Note: Whoever gets the Lovecraft reference in this story gets a virtual cookie.
In my hour of need,
Ha! You're not there...
And though I reached out for you,
wouldn't lend a hand!
Through the darkest hour...
grace did not shine on me.
It feels so cold, very cold,
no one cares for me.
You'll never know how hard I tried,
to find my space and satisfy you, too.
Things will be better when I'm dead and gone,
don't try to understand, knowing you I'm probably wrong.
Did you ever think I get lonely?
Did you ever think that I needed love?
Did you ever think to stop thinking,
you're the only one that I'm thinking of?
Won't you hold me again?
You just laughed, ha, ha, bitch...
My whole life is work built on the past.
But the time has come when all things shall pass,
This good thing passed away.
In my darkest hour...
- "In My Darkest Hour" Megadeth
"Wild Side" by Mötley Crüe blared on the radio, and Blake tolerated it well, (despite being a song about lawlessness and cop killing) as he remembered the song from his youth. He was just coming out of high school when it was released, he could recall hauling a girl or two around town speeding up and down the streets in his Firebird. It played almost continuously on the top hits station until everyone would grow sick of it. He would do it for hours until the girls had to go home, then of course he would take his time going back home himself. He never did want to go back if he could help it. His father would always bitch at him the minute he stepped in the door, there was always something apparently wrong and according to his old man, it was his fault.
His younger brother, which he swore could have easily been his twin, had it even worse. He would always come home from school via the bus because he couldn't afford his own car yet. By the time he got there, Lawrence had already heard everything for the third or fourth time repeated to his older brother, and he would eye him with pity. Larry's identical, yet somewhat brighter eyes always stuck in his mind as he watched him from the corner in the kitchen. The marks of various beatings streaking his sickly complexion.
Carter envied Randolph, his other brother. The older brown-haired man was able to get a decent job and move the hell out. Got a wife, and was spitting out babies- making Carter himself an uncle three times. He'd seen the kids occasionally, and they had a strange affinity for him. He tried to return the affection the best he could, but he wasn't the best with children for obvious reasons. Though unlike with adults- he actually did try to hold his temper. Faking enthusiasm when need be.
For some reason, woman were never destined to survive in his family. He had been informed through a slip of the tongue when his father was drunk- that he had a twin sister. Yet she had died not long after they were born. This crawled and crept at Carter- knowing that technically a part of him had died along with her. He remembered reading in the recently updated Origami Killer report that Scott had a twin brother that had died all those years ago- and found himself horribly stabbed in the stomach with the sensation of recognition.
Then there the sister he did know. She had died only ten years ago. His insides clutched as images of a wasting, pale body constrained to a hospital bed flooded his mind. Cancer had taken her away from him- even if they were never terribly close. They had just started getting along famously when she was diagnosed with some type of abdominal cancer Carter didn't care to remember the name of. Hearing the news was bad enough, yet she was able to get it under control and eventually the horrible mutation was pushed into remission. Only a few months went by- when he got the call that made his stomach feel like it just slipped down a bottomless pit- His young sister had just been getting her life back together- dating again and looking for a high-scale apartment now that she had managed to land the perfect job. She was an artist and always wanted to make it her life. That was, until some sick fuck (that was later revealed to be heavily medicated with anti-psychotics) decided to throw her down a flight of concrete steps and rape her.
When he arrived at the hospital, it was revealed the cancer had also come back with a vengeance. Those asshole, well-paid doctors didn't get it all. It happened so fast that he just barely made it to watch her diseased body slip further and further into despair. Days went by as he sat in the hospital's palliative care wing, body haunched over as his eyes gazed sleepily forward. He was grateful for crime being low, he would have to be dead himself to ignore his occupation completely. The first thing he did when was let off for the night was to visit his ailing sister- being grateful she was still awake to see him. Still alive, especially. Then the day came, and she eventually looked over, said her goodbyes and lay down flat as she ceased to move. He'd never forget the way the machines all seemed to cease or squeal all at once at her passing.
Words couldn't particularly describe the explosion of madness that overwhelmed the already unstable lieutenant. If it wasn't for the fact that the piece of pure human shit didn't already turn himself into a psych ward, he'd kill the motherfucker in such creative ways- they'd never guess it was a human that did it. Safely contained within the walls of an asylum from Blake, the perpetrator remained in a safe haven to this day, a better fate then death by his sordid hands. All he could remember was the rage, the disgust, the sheer agony...Carter had died internally a long time before that, a part of him only remained. The rest faded that day, a part that made him give up on the shit-stain that was humanity.
He sought to take revenge on his sister's incompetent doctors. Going to their homes, sitting outside in his car as he watched them leave, following them to and fro town as they nervously glanced in the rearview window. Threatening the doctor's family seemed to be the last straw, and a restraining order had to be issued for Philadelphia's top police lieutenant. Had he not been in good standing with the judge, it would have been front-page news. How easy it would have been for his badge to be taken away. It was settled out of court, as long as he stayed a good five-hundred feet from the fucks, nothing more would be said about it…Nothing more ever was said about it. Shit, wasn't he lucky? He should thank them really. Sometimes he lay awake at night thinking of ways to thank them.
He had to stop…and he did just that. He wouldn't have it ruin his good mood, which he in fact hadn't had in a long time. Standing at his grill again, he blinked hard as he tried to rid himself of his building migraine. That swarming, worm-like sensation crawling through his head again as he tried to ignore it. He had taken another set of pills to combat the effects, yet it was slow to begin its workings.
Carter figured the headaches tended to go away when he wore ARI, so again he reached for the glasses he had brought outside with him, and eyed them curiously as his other hand flipped a burger. With a flick of the wrist, he flipped the glasses' temple tips away from one another and brought them to his face, where the blue glow ominously lit up his dark circles.
Surprising himself, he found the exterior unchanged. No desert of mars, no autumn forest, no Martha's Vineyard house sitting idly by. Instead, he simply saw his own backyard, and he'd be lying if he didn't admit he was a little disappointed. Where could it have taken him next, he wondered? It appeared as though the limits the machine placed on itself were conducive to just about anywhere in the world…And then some, as Mars itself illustrated
Yet being just where he was, his own home out by the grill- was exactly where he needed to be for this to take place. He looked about until he saw Jayden standing by the back fence of his yard. There appeared to be a brief few seconds where the agent blinked, glanced around and seemed to study the environment in front of him. Then he turned, and got an eye-full of the back of Carter's house.
A small laugh escaped his throat as he witnessed the scene, Jayden squinting from being tired more then from the sun itself. Any real evidence of what just happened seemed to have been washed his face, and Blake tried to concoct a reason as to why this was. Had he found a way to clean himself off? Part of him was disappointed, seeing his cum-stains still on the boy's visage would have made him all the more sad and pitiful. Yet another part didn't exactly what to see that when he was cooking food.
Blake looked back down with the very ghost of a smile on his lips, flipping over one of the two burgers, then rolling the few ears of corn about on the grill as the smell rose into the air. The crackling, hissing and spitting of the fire licking the cooking food constant reminders of the danger from being horribly burnt.
"How do' you like yours, Jayden, eh? I heard you like you're meat uncooked…"
This particular tease made Jayden visibly wince and he narrowed his eyes as his face burned from embarrassment - Regardless, he found himself stumbling towards the other man. After their "business transaction", Blake actually had the nerve to come back and offer something rather unusual of him. Food. He informed Jayden that apparently, he had actually swallowed his bodily fluid in real-time, and that therefore; Norman himself would have to be somewhat real. This revelation shocked the agent enough- except the older man just kept going on about how apparently this also meant he could eat real food. So, he offered to cook for him, for a price of course.
A flimsy offer was made; Blake would make him something in order to keep him fed. He would also do Jayden's dirty work down in DC…In exchange for more of what he had just received from the young man. It made Jayden feel spineless and sick, and his mouth went dry as he remembered coughing in surprise and growing faint from the thought. Of course, this was what he implied when he did the blowjob to begin with…Yet he wasn't thinking clearly. Not like now. Not with shame, disgust and a healthy serving of self-loathing consuming his internal organs like a fire. Like he himself was being roasted over a spit.
"…You heard wrong. I like mine well-done, actually."
Carter made an "hmmm" in his throat as he nodded in amusement.
"Good for you. 'Cause that's how I was gonna cook 'em, anyway."
Norman watched in pervasive curiosity as Blake applied barbecue sauce a little too messily- getting it all over his hand…Then licked his fingers starting at the thumb and ending at the middle finger, sucking slightly on that last one to remove the tasty substance. It made his lips part just a touch and eyes widen- yet he stopped himself and glanced away.
'Fucking ARI. Making me desperate…'
Jayden had replaced his suit jacket, not so much because he was cold, because in actuality he was feeling extremely hot and sweaty. Yet his intention had been to regain somewhat of a professional appearance. If that was even remotely possible at this point. Someone his age was expected to still have some fire left in their belly. A youthful vigor in his step as he stayed up all night, sprinting about the town in the search for a good time. Yet Norman never really had this in his life, rarely having the time for personal business as he constantly sought to further his career.
His weekends weren't filled with friends or family, alcohol or movies, concerts or barhopping…They were filled with paperwork. His computer went from a personal place where he could store photos or videos of family and high school memories- to a second workstation where he could fill out even more forms, do even more research into cases and keep up-to-date on the latest psychology developments. He was a sucker for news in general, almost obsessive in the sense that he watched CNN or MSNBC constantly, having it rolling in the background as his face glued to the computer screen. Norman swore he hadn't seen a movie in years. If it wasn't for sports and his talent with the piano, he would almost never get the chance to unwind. A nervous breakdown loomed constantly on the horizon.
Therefore, when he gave Carter what he so desperately appeared to have needed- his self-worth plunged below a level unknown to him. Unknown to his senses, psychosis or ability to reason. Hours ago, he had been on his knees as an older, incompetent lieutenant from Philadelphia, whom he couldn't stand, fucked his face. Held his hair roughly as he thrust into his willing mouth. How could he have let that happen? He should have known better! He was better then this- had graduated from college with the highest honors, excelled into the FBI where he was finally getting some good time in so he could rise up the ranks- oh yeah, then he fucking died. He was fucking dead. He had to remind himself of that.
'Maybe not for long…? You're obviously not entirely dead, Norman. Part of you escaped into ARI. Maybe someday you can come back? You can eat! Illusions can't eat, can't sleep, can't…Well, can't give a man a blowjob. There's gotta be a way…There's something about Carter, something you gotta find out. Something unique, besides being the biggest asshole you ever met-'
"Don't just stand there with you're thumb up your ass, Norm." Carter called, looking up from the grill.
"I mean, I know you're into that kind of shit, but don't do it in my yard- come and sit down. Food's almost ready."
A slight heat took up his face at Blake's taunts, and a small skiver formed in the small of his back and spread to his feet. Moving his legs and straightening his tie and collar, he made his way towards Blake's little outside table and gazed at the newly placed cheap, white lawn chair. The older man practically sounded like a mother scorning her child as he came in from outside, late for dinner. It reminded him vaguely of his own mother, but he tried to stifle the feeling down in his gut. He didn't need that omniscient pain in his system right now.
Norman cleared his throat as he looked from one side to the other nervously, and then pulled out the chair as he took a shaky seat. Reaching under the arms of said chair, he pulled up and scooted towards the table as his legs rested underneath and elbows on the table. He reminded himself how rude that was- and pulled them off as he sat them on the chair's arms.
'Look at him, all prim 'n proper. Even after he just got done sucking dick he can't forget his little manners. Like a fucking puppy licking its master's hand after get'n beat. It'd be cute if it wasn't so pathetic.'
Never could Norman had guessed the man's harsh thoughts as he silently cooked, watching in hunger as his eyes followed the meat as it flipped over and over again, pushing the hamburger down so it could be flatter when placed on a bun. His tongue was out between his lips before he could stop it, and he wet pouty flesh, then the dry corners of his mouth before pulling it back in. Swallowing, he nervously looked Carter in the eyes.
"So you are still hungry?" He finished that with a laugh, and as predicted, Norman looked down to the table with a growing sickness in his stomach.
When he licked his lips, he couldn't help but taste Blake again. It made his stomach suck up against his spine- a revolting sensation returning to his mouth as he realized traces of the man still lay there. Probably in crevices of his teeth he couldn't wash out yet. Couldn't help but remind himself how billions of little copies of the lieutenant swam about in his stomach as they awaited digestion, the very process assimilating the copies into his body like some crazy fucked up personal pregnancy.
'You're thinking too much about it. Mom's a whore, dad's a whore, why are you so surprised you're the same way?'
It's because Jayden always thought he'd be something better, always trying to meet his parent's insane expectations while barely juggling something resembling a social life. He told himself that maybe someday he'd brake free and could live a more mundane life. Could slow down to "smell the roses" so to speak.
No, never, it appeared. Never did happen…Though, now, he supposed, cruel irony gripped at his fate as he now sat at a man's table, being cooked dinner. He practically felt like a husband coming home to dinner being prepped by his spouse. He couldn't work while he was in ARI. Couldn't help but mull over life, converse, and slow down to enjoy his surroundings. Even if they were fake.
Jayden still clutched at his pride, trying to tell himself he wasn't a pessimistic man. Though he knew deep down part of that always dwelled. He was still a man, still could walk with his head high- even the greatest people have gone through rough patches in their lives, he told himself. He couldn't think of a single man who didn't have to stoop low in order to get things done-
'Yeah, Norm. I'm so fuck'n sure. All the presidents had to suck dick to get where they are. Had to go down in order to get policies across- that makes a lot of goddamn sense. You're a fucking idiot.'
In the end, what stung him the most was the overwhelming sensation of disgust. Like waking up the next morning to find the so called-looker in you're bed is in fact a razorback boar. Norman could have easily gotten over sleeping with an older man, or a man he didn't particularly find attractive or savory…He could even get over sleeping with someone he hated. Yet Carter Blake was something else entirely. Like a tyrannical leader sent from the past to terrorize the present, not even so much a dictator like Nero or even Hitler- they weren't logical like Blake's calculating madness. The man was his own breed of "wrong", of sinful, rotten, personal indulgence. A creature of ill repute from the highest of immoral deeds, sent from the fires of hell much like the Antichrist Nathanial had warned of. Something about the 'man' wasn't human, was off, just…not right.
Norman could go over his psychological theories all day, could hypothesize and analyze his childhood until he had to reach a conclusion here or there- could even have Blake medicated if need be. Find him a doctor, convince him to go and perhaps ease his mood swings. There would be no denying, however, that some people are just wicked. Perhaps not born that way so much as created, not like Frankenstein in a lab, but at home in the cradle. In their bedroom, on the streets. In their everyday lives.
Blake was just that- a wicked, corrupt man. Not evil incarnate, that he wouldn't go so far to name. If so, he would have been horrible as his job. Even Hitler couldn't run an army to save his fucking life, a fact that allowed for the rather supreme collapse of the German army at the end of World War II. Could easily account for the fall of the Roman empire at the increasing moral ineptitude of it's leadership. Jayden noticed a burning fire in the man's eyes when it came to Blake and his job, a man dedicated to his craft, as any worthwhile man should be. Just as passionate about his job as Jayden was his, he reasoned. He had indeed been concerned about finding those children…Even if the methods behind them were pure and simple unlawful misconduct of the highest regard.
The agent didn't want to admit it…But from day one, he had been trying to impress Blake. Not really so much intentionally, but more so under his own bated breath. Sneaking under the radar of his own subconscious. It wasn't an attempt to so much ram his abilities down he older man's throat, but to earn respect from someone who so obviously hated his guts. It was hardwired into the younger man's brain to desire to be liked. When he didn't get a general feeling of admiration for his abilities that he received at the FBI, he was honestly surprised and a bit taken aback. From the day he arrived at that rainy crime scene, he knew he'd have to go a long way to convince this particular police force- especially Lieutenant Carter Blake, of his methods.
How could someone sleep with the enemy- with the devil- and ever feel clean again?
Even now, as he sat squirming in the deck chair, still figuring out how he could feel so real but be so fake- he tried to look as professional and polite as possible. He even combed his hair, splashed some virtual water in his face in order to look awake. Despite the fact that he was ready to fall asleep, fat and happy as soon as he finished.
"Want cheese?"
Turning his head, he found himself a bit surprised by the normalcy of the question. Jerking a nod, he cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as possible.
"Yes, please."
The lieutenant almost smirked at his behavior, acting like a good little dinner guest. The food was almost done- he found himself actually riveted by the upcoming meal. Like a pupil readying his science project, knowing this was going to be a fascinating turn of events. All evidence so far pointed to the kid being able to ingest solid food. Now that Blake had come to be the only way for him to get nourishment, it was going to be incredibly entertaining yanking him around like a dog on a short leash.
"So, you think you'll be able to watch the game, later?" Carter questioned in a tired voice.
Norman raised his view from the table below him, modestly looking the man above him through the ARI as it sat outside his eyes. He went to speak, and coughed a bit from his dry throat.
"I…Well, I think I could. I mean, if it's alright with you-"
"Well, you see, Norman…" Carter paused, and then reached to shut the grill off as he noticed the food was easily ready by now.
"Way I see it; we're business partners, now." There came a horrible twitch to the corner of his mouth.
The ex-agent clenched his teeth and blushed horribly, though he tried his best to hide it by glancing back down.
"…And I need to protect my investment, right? You're entitled to a certain few perks, if you behave..."
Right now, he couldn't feel any more like an ass if he tried. He wasn't a child, not a piece of meat, either. Just when he went to open his mouth to say something, he shut it when noticed Blake preparing the food- getting out a paper plate and watching him look left to right as he tried to find where he put the fixings.
'Shit, shit, shit…Fuck it, I'm hungry, so goddamn' hungry…Play nice.'
Pausing, for the first time he noticed the radio had been on. He heard it of course, but didn't pay much attention. "One bourbon, one scotch, one beer" by George Thorogood & The Destroyers started up, and he internally winced- he didn't care much for older music- unless it was piano- then according to him it was timeless.
"What'd you want on it?" Carter asked, grabbing the mustard and planting some on a burger, which he had to guess was his own.
"…Everything." Norman licked his dry lips again- he eyed the unopened case of Budweiser sitting on the table, having just been pulled from the fridge and looked pretty cold. God, he could use one right now. Not that he was much of a fan of beer, whiskey and vodka being more his forte. Still, there was nothing like a cold brewski to quench one's thirst. Even if he personally would have far rather had Heineken or Yuengling, and Budweiser made his stomach churn…Whatever. Beggars can't be choosers. He certainly was a beggar, presently.
"Christ, kid. If you want one, just ask."
Glancing up, he saw that Carter had been watching him lick his lips as he stared at the 12-pack of red, gold and-white packaged beer. Leaning back, he felt rather embarrassed but just gave a little laugh to take the pressure off.
"…Yeah, sorry. Did'n want to impose…"
A small laugh came from the back of the cop's throat as he glanced up from placing onions on both of their burgers.
"Oh? You weren't imposing by giving me a hummer? Cool your jets and settle down, if you want something just fuck'n say it."
'He's starting to get on my nerves.' Jayden thought to himself, tilting his head as he parted his lips, staring awkwardly to Blake's left as he reached over to open the pack of beer. 'I don't know what he wants anymore, when I'm a dick, he's a dick. When I'm polite, he's still a dick. I guess it's just ingrained in his personality to be an incredible asshole. I better get used to it.'
A cold beer was placed to his right, can top already opened. He supposed it was because Blake didn't know if he could perform such actions himself. It made the agent feel like a child again; asking mommy and daddy to do everything from tie his shoes to open up the jar of cookies.
"Thanks…" Norman said, making eye contact with the man unwillingly, getting a small nod in response.
Experimenting, he grabbed the beer carefully. He was relieved to find he could wrap his hand around it, and brought it to his lips experimentally. Parting them, he tilted the can and let it run down his throat. It was just as good as he expected…Cold, bitter yet refreshing. He tilted the can back further, taking a few mouthfuls and swallowing greedily. He watched as Blake looked towards the agent with interest, like his own little experiment.
"If I took these things off, what would happen?"
Norman looked at Carter with fear in his eyes, and shook his head in earnest.
"…I don't wanna find out. Not now-"
Blake ripped them off- and to his surprise, he remained. Sitting there like a jackass with his eyes wide, beer held towards his lips.
"Goddamn it, Cartah!"
"What? Nothing happened…In fact, why is that? I thought you were in these things?" He indicated, shaking the ARI in his right hand.
"I…It's, complicated. I can still phase out, though. Please, put them back on?"
"Please? Aw, Norman. You're so polite…" Carter pried out his own beer, popping the tab as he finished up the agent's plate of food.
"…Tell you what…You know how you get a new car, and you drive it as long as you can on an empty tank, just to see how far you can go?"
He watched the other man swallow, then looked around nervously. It was lovely, watching him become so vulnerable, so reliant on the good will of others. If it weren't for him, Jayden wouldn't even be sitting in front of him right now. It was intensely satisfying, perhaps even arousing. This thought overwhelmed him as he shifted in his stance, unsure if he would grow hard from that particular thought or not.
"Food's done…"
Gulping another swig of beer, Norman wiped the amber liquid from his face and eyed the food graciously as it was sat in front of him. He could smell it, which he knew was a good step in the right direction. He nodded to Blake as he sat down across from him, who gazed at him with a certain interest. Eyes wondering up and down his tense frame as they locked gazes.
"…Thanks." A slight smile came to the kid's face, and it couldn't help but stay there as he watched him reach down to begin his proverbial feast.
Blake couldn't help but twitch a smirk in response as he watched Jayden take the burger and raise it up, taking a huge bite and chewing. A muffled moan passed his lips as he chewed the immense bite- a lump forming in his right cheek as he moved the food about inside his mouth.
"Oogggh…Aghts wut Iiiah neegghtedd."
Carter nodded and parted his lips as he watched the starved man attempt to talk.
"So, I'm guessing you can eat, eh?"
Norman jerked a nod, smiling in gratitude as he eyed the other man without apprehension for once.
Blake sat back and grabbed his own burger, taking a bite and watching in curiosity as Jayden wolfed down his ration. There was a moment when he choked a little, but a swig of beer was used to wash it down.
"Slow down there, kid." Blake laughed, finding the whole situation rather amusing.
"I'm not gonna take it off of you…"
Shaking his head, Norman took a napkin to his face and swallowed earnestly.
"…I know… I know." He gulped once more, licking his lips and taking another drink and pushing the can aside. He looked up at Carter as if asking permission, and in response he sighed and nodded towards the case.
"Don't be shy- I can always get more tomorrow…"
Norman internally smiled as he reached into the case, fishing out another cold can and popping the tab as he heard the bubbles fizz. He sat it down and worked on his corn, eagerly gobbling the kernels with a newfound zest. All the while, the normally belligerent lieutenant sat back and munched away slowly. Studying the agent with the eyes of a detective at work. 'Like watching a train wreck.' He reasoned. 'Can't turn away…'
It was pathetic, really. Watching the kid mow down the simple meal. Yet also, extremely sad. A pang of distress struck his heartstrings, watching as Jayden struggled to breath from the sheer speed of his chow-down, almost choking again as the kernels stuck in his throat. He knew the guy was hungry, but holy shit. It was as if he had gone a week without food instead of a few days. Not to mention-, how could he even be hungry to begin with? Wasn't he dead? Wasn't he…Oh, he didn't know…not even real? In that case, how was he eating like a fiend right in front of him…Without even the ARI working as it should? Carter was struck by this momentarily, and like that, he watched as Norman flickered. Rather like a how a TV will go out of focus for a brief second, barely noticeable.
Carter surprised himself with the concern he suddenly felt. His heart actually lurched at the feeling of losing the brat- and he couldn't help but wonder why.
'Because Ash makes a shitty drinking buddy, he's too quiet; you can't even tease 'em or he gets all offended and leaves. God forbid you talk about a girl then he brings up his whore of a mother, goes and has a fit. Norman? 'Could pick on him all day, he'd take it all. Might even think it's funny.'
Norman again sprang back into clarity as he pondered these things- The only thing he could piece together was how he was questioning Jayden's strange existence. It made him less real somehow. It would be a fascinating experiment, but it was something he'd have to ignore. He was making progress and didn't want to go backwards. Carter felt the ceaseless, burning ambition to discover what this whole thing was really about.
Said agent looked up with Carter with eager eyes, wanting to lick the sweet, salty butter off his fingers. Yet he reminded himself those weren't the best manners in front of his dinner host, was it? So he instead sought the napkin as he rubbed his hands through the thick paper-towel provided, then wiped his face the best he could.
"Good?" Carter inquired; Norman looked up as he padded the butter from his lips.
"Yeah…Yeah, it was good." He smiled meekly, looking away in embarrassment at his prior actions.
"Well don't expect anything of this caliber for a while…" Blake let out with the passing of a sigh, getting up from his seat as he leaned over and grabbed his paper plate.
"…This is the full extent of my cooking abilities. Microwave dinners for you, kid."
Jayden smirked a little as he watched the older man disappear into the house. For a moment, fear clutched in his chest. Could he remain here when Carter was in a totally different room? Jerking in his seat so hard, the chair squeaked its plastic shell, he looked about to see if the scenery would change. Watching, he saw the scenery shutter in and out, passing briefly between an ocean scene and his current location. Fear clutched in his chest as he felt his heart practically squeezed.
"Blake!" He cried out, jumping from his chair and running hastily inside.
There was an almost-collision as he stopped himself just in time as he saw the imposing figure at the doorway. His eyes looked alive with irritation, brimming with a snappy, temper-laden fire as he grit his teeth.
"What?" Came the bark that was his voice- eyeing the agent up and down.
"I think I'm starting to fade out-"
"Yeah, I noticed that, too. Don't worry-You won't die, remember?"
A full-body shiver racked through the young man as he took a step back and straightened his tie. Parting glances, he looked off to the side as he cleared his throat.
"I'm quite aware of that," An edge to his voice that curled out without intention. "…I just…Wasn't ready to go back yet. When's t' game?"
For a brief second, the corner of Blake's mouth curled up in a smirk. It disappeared quickly as his eyes returned to their harsh state. All the respect that the older lieutenant had for the young agent- which wasn't much to begin with- was fading fast. He had turned so desperate so quick; he was already a shell of a man. If it wasn't for his new-found "abilities" that Carter sought to take full advantage- he'd be disgusted enough to shut him out. That, or perhaps use him as a rather lively punching bag. He considered nailing him across the face many times while alive- here he had the chance without restrictions.
Something stayed his hand, however. Not only did he need the kid lively and healthy (despite still being very dead) for his 'services', he would need him in relatively decent shape if he wanted to pursue this so called 'errand' of his. The more he thought about it, the more he rather liked the idea of fucking the FBI over and taking everything of interest from the rich little twat's house. It was a rather exciting venture; the very endeavor itself was going to be a proverbial spit in the government's face. Defacing the former agent's home as he sought to remove anything interesting to his tastes even if he had to tear it from the fucking wall.
Blake was always the troublemaker, the shit-stirring type that came into a room and made fights where there were none to be had. Perhaps even none possible, all until he banged open the door and saw people fucking around, not getting shit done. He almost wanted to be caught rummaging through Jayden's house, so he could have a chance to fuck up some local FBI and their whole perfect little worlds.
"…Five." Carter paused, then repeated the rest. "…Pre-game starts at four thirty…"
Jayden nodded, moving his body as he looked beyond the lieutenant to glance at the clock on the wall.
"It's going on a quarter 'till…"
Surprisingly enough, Blake looked back and made a face. Obviously, he had lost track of time. Not that it mattered; the pre-game was a bunch of bull anyway. He wasn't one for hearing people piss and moan about sports as if anything they said actually mattered.-
"Shit, we're missing the pre-game? I wanted to see that."
'Mother…Fucker…'
Grumbling in his throat, Blake turned around and made his way towards the living room.
"Son of a bitch, Norman. You need some tampons? I can run down to the 'fuck'n drug store and get some."
Glancing up with a perplexed expression, Norman parted his pink lips and narrowed his eyes. Furrowing his brow, a slight red overcame his face as he twisted his mouth to bite his tongue.
"I wern't bitchin', Cartuh." He spat out, and the older man rather hated the way the Boston bureaucrat pronounced his name. Might as well not even have an "r" at the end of it.
"I was just- Fuck, never mind. You wanna watch the game or what?"
"Actually, I was thinking we'd just jack off all day... Here, I'll start first, get on you're knees and I'll finish in you're face-"
In a fit of irritation, Norman brushed past the other alpha male as he knocked shoulders with him. Unintentionally, a flutter arose in the center of his full, bloated stomach at the contact. Pushing this aside, he spun about and eyed the nasty expression on his face that radiated tense, boiling venom and distaste. Yet instead of flying towards the kid with a temper-fueled ire and long pent-up rage, he gave an icy laugh and smiled so wide his sharp canines could be viewed like the teeth of a long-decayed animal skull of a bad stretch of road.
Norman opened his mouth to speak, and stood there as his mouth opened…yet the sound that came out sounded more like a strangled cry then a word. His soft blue eyes couldn't compete with the stormy globes of the lieutenant, and he couldn't help but shut up and turn away.
'He has you, you know…' His thoughts rose to a terrifying perdition as he walked towards the couch.
'Right in the palm of his hand. 'Better watch out. Way he looks at you…He's starting to look at you different, can't you tell? He wants more from you, not just a blowjob…Isn't it obvious? The guy wants to fuck you, and you won't be able to fight back. How could you? Why would you? Blake practically owns you now."
The smile faded quickly from Blake's face as it turned into smirk, watching the kid sit down on the couch as politely as possible. A lump visibly formed in his throat as it bobbed up and down, and it reminded him of the incredibly pleasant experience they shared earlier. Well, it was pleasant for him anyway.
"It's on channel six, I'll go get the beer…"
Parting glances, Norman's hands began to freely shake in a combination of long held-back withdrawal symptoms coupled with good-old-fashioned nerves. He felt his face drain in color as his heart rate suddenly accelerated in his chest, and the realization of all these symptoms only made it worse. The previously haunting eyes of his turned blood-shot, looking more like angry seas of blood then a tropical ocean. Taking a few deep breathes; he inhaled and exhaled with some difficulty, praying like hell that he wouldn't disappear from the scene.
'Why? You should want to! You can run back home and wash your face, can get out of here before he puts the glasses back on. Now's the time to ditch Carter, if anything!'
In all honesty, Norman didn't know himself anymore. Why did he want to stick around as long as possible with this lunatic? The more he interacted with him, the less he felt that revulsion and fear coiling in his gut like a bad illness.
On cue, the agent felt himself flutter again, felt the room start to give way. A blink, and he was back in the vacation house in Martha's Vineyard. His red, tear-stained eyes scanned the room as he felt his heart pulse madly in his torso- finding himself grateful that he still had a heart.
Norman stood up and found his legs carrying him in a drunken stupor- his momentum and weight turning him into a bone and flesh torpedo as he sailed across the room. Just barely stopping himself from flying into the antique furniture.
Through blurry, squinting eyes, he noticed the layout of the house had slightly changed. He remembered the old house like the back of his hand, and this shit defiantly was not right. The angles were all wrong, the large bay window in the kitchen no longer there, neither were the stairs positioned in a grandiose spiral towards the front door. His heart seized in alarm when he realized the house now closer resembled Blake's, and that in fact, if it wasn't for the slight change in hues…There wasn't much difference at all.
'I'm slipping into the Twilight Zone, goddamn it…'
Stumbling about, he tripped as he walked towards the altered staircase and caught his weight on the large, jutting handrail. It was still like the Martha's Vineyard house, in the sense that it was made of stained wood from ages long past. With a hopeless expression, he gained a sensitization of vertigo as he craned his neck towards the incline.
'Hold on, Norman. You can do it…You've done worse.'
Latching onto the rail, he crawled along it as he put one foot in front of the other. Ten steps up, he felt his weight haul him back. In reflex, he grabbed onto the railing even harder and steadied himself. Knuckles turning white as he once again struggled upwards. Cresting the top of the stairs, he threw himself forward into the bathroom and leaned over the- Fuck! The bathroom wasn't here anymore!
'GODDAMN IT! Fuck…ME. Fuck…Fuck…Shit!'
Growling in his throat, Norman spun himself around from the strangely empty upstairs rooms. Rooms that normally would have held bedrooms and a rather nice bathroom with a large whirlpool bath. Now it was strangely vacant, nothing on the walls and an incredibly eerie feeling in the air.
When he went to take a step, he gasped as instead, his foot and then his entire body sailed through thin air, and he landed on the floor from what had to be the ceiling.
"Norman! What the fuck?"
Blake stood there with the ARI in front of his eyes. He gazed at the odd display, having just witnessed Jayden literally falling through the roof up above towards his doorway and landing on his charcoal colored carpet in a heap.
"Jesus fuck, you a magician now or what?"
Norman would laugh if he had it in him, he'd never seen the older man so perplexed. So utterly blown away, not even when he saw him for the first time in ARI. He watched as he took a step to the left and right, looking up above the agent's position as he glared at the invisible hole that simply didn't exist.
Blake looked back down, he caught an expression on the kid's face that could only be described as pure retardation. His head swayed about as his eyes partially closes, his mouth hung partially open as he groaned from the impact.
"I…I went upstairs…"
"…You went upstairs?"
"Yea-yeah…" Norman exasperated, and Carter watched as he shuddered a little as he attempted to come out of his stupor.
"How'd the fuck you go upstairs, Jayden! This is a one-floor house!"
"I uh…I took, I took the steps-" He pointed haphazardly towards the doorway, then dropped his finger and used the hand to hold himself up.
"Wha…What the fuck! There's no stairs-what? Seriously, Jayden?"
Blake went off, gesturing madly as he threw his hands in the air and stomped around. For once, the agent didn't feel worried for his own well-being. The lieutenant seemed more flustered then angry. It wasn't often he came across something he couldn't figure out. A smile edged out as he showed his teeth for the first time in a grin in Philadelphia.
"I…I took the stairs…"
- 5
- 6
- 7
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