A HOTBLOODED BASTARD

“Fuck you, Jake! I get to walk away because I fucking died, alright?! You don’t get to walk away because you’re important, because you hold genetic data that no one else on this planet does. No, I’m not fucking happy, but you know what? I didn’t want to be able to walk away! I made a choice, and that choice didn’t factor in my survival! I knew the chances of walking out of that facility were slim, but I made the choice to sacrifice myself so that humanity could continue existing, so that you and Sherry could have time to get out, so that Chris could continue to lead and inspire. I didn’t fucking ask to be dragged out of that sea alive! I didn’t fucking ask to be locked up, like some–some dirty little secret people were ashamed of, to be in a fucking coma for the better part of a year, to be in such agonising pain that the most merciful thing they could do was keep me in that coma! I didn’t fucking ask to walk away as a fucking freak, as a fucking threat to humanity! I’m still infected, Jake! I walked away because if they knew I was still around, they would fucking quarantine me and either torture me for experiments until I dropped dead, and then cut me open and continue, or shoot me on sight. I didn’t want to walk away Jake, I didn’t ever intend to. But you know what? That was my only fucking choice.”

At some point, his voice had grown shaky, and his throat had closed up, making it hard to speak. But he held his ground, taking a weak breath, only to stare daggers at Jake.

If the punch was a quick and encompassing pain, Piers’ words are worse, the story unfolding and getting worse. He’s almost even compelled to place a hand on Piers’ shoulder once his voice starts taking on that shaking timbre, just look at him and try to console him about the experiments if he didn’t have the distinct impression that any attempt to do so would result in him getting knocked flat on his ass. And shit, he’d actually deserve that, too. 

But, God, it’s always been the experiments that hit him the hardest. The way he’d bristled when Sherry ran after him and said they needed his blood, when she confessed to being young and innocent and subjected to countless tests. Later on, getting caught by Neo Umbrella and just knowing that whatever they were doing to Jake, they were probably doing just as bad or worse to Sherry. There was no getting over the fury at receiving just short of torture for nothing they’d done, but something they’d been born into.

So what about Piers and his heroic sacrifice? Did his action make his circumstances now hurt any less or more than if he’d been born the way they had? Jake takes in the hard look of Piers’ face, more stiff and broken now than in that authoritative way he’d taken on by Redfield’s side, and comes to the conclusion that Piers’ way is infinitely more sudden. And you don’t get used to the loneliness over night.

  “I hope you’re as ruthless as Jack, because he’s gonna tear me apart if you aren’t.” The words are said almost casually, though it forms a small pit of worry in her stomach. “I know saying a corporation is after me sounds a little.. lax, but I can promise you, it’s not. He has an army at his disposal.” 

Jake only huffs when she discloses she’s a fugitive, because boy does she seem the part, but he lets her finish her story even as she laughs, Jake’s eyes trailing almost naively to the ceiling as she points up.

Oh. Suddenly he gets the humor. What the fuck. “...I’ve been known to be ruthless,” he starts, “but we’ve gotta haul ass. I’m sure you already know that much. We stay out of sight as long as possible and I’ll mow ‘em down if they get ahead of us or get too close behind, nice and simple.”

  “Its just a flame thrower which I’ll build later, whats wrong with that?”

When the door opened, Piers glanced back at his new fighter, almost visibly cringing. Even if it was his first time being assigned to a team, he wasn’t big on the idea of his fighter looking so…cocky. There was no way of telling at first glance if the guy had ever been assigned to a team, or even deployed before, but it still sent a slimy feeling slithering down Piers’s spine. His hands, which were clasped behind his back, tightened around a wrist slightly before he turned back, silver eyes focusing on their commander as the man berated the fighter for being late.

Save your breath, he doesn’t care. 

“You two will be assigned to the ship Torchlight. Codenames, Prometheus and Epimetheus. Dismissed.” 

Getting up, it sauntered over to sit before Jake, barely a foot of space between them, before moving its wrist beneath his gun, the tips of its bone grazing over Jake’s hand. It didn’t have fingers, or really much to physically grasp the weapon, but it made a motion akin to taking the gun, only to push it aside lightly.

If Jake refused to kill it, to put it out of its misery, after knowing of its suffering, then why should someone else get to, for some measly reward? Something in it refused to just find someone else and lay down, waiting for a bullet through the brain.

Then there’s the fact that he’s still not entirely sure he hasn’t lost his mind and is seeing what he wants to in the circumstances right in front of him. And if that was the case... why Piers? None of it makes any goddamn sense, and that realization in itself is so liberating he doesn’t have any trouble throwing this hunt away.

Send “Can I kiss you?” to see how my muse responds.

The request was almost ignored, purely because Piers wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard the question in reality or not. After a moment, he blinked, looking up and staring at Jake, tilting his head.

He can’t stop himself from crowding into Piers despite his words, though, trying to stop himself from thinking. His head dips down to nuzzle into the hollow of Piers’ throat.

  “No,” she hummed almost thoughtlessly, “No, no. Look: I have an entire corporation after me, and their army. By the time we made it anywhere relatively safe, I’d owe you my first born child because you would’ve drained my pockets, but let me try to appeal to your business side. Twenty-five now, twenty-five when I get there. I’ll throw in an extra ten if I make it.. undamaged.” Money wasn’t exactly an object for her; sell enough guns and you could make a fortune (plus being a decent pickpocket didn’t hurt, either). 

For those of you who don’t know, ESL stands for English as a Second Language.

Send me one to see how my muse reacts. Feel free to modify to fit muses.

TW: Drug use, underage sex, self-harm.

“Hit me. I’m serious, I can’t feel anything, hit me!”

“Gross! That’s my brother!”

“I didn’t have a mother when I was your age, either. I know how hard it is. I do.” 

“What the hell is that?”

“She’s a model-slash-actress.”

“So, you wanna just go to the boardwalk and sell some shit?”

“Jeez, [name] why don’t you open a hotel? You could get paid for all this shit.”

“Don’t call me a slut.”

“I’d like to see that thong on my bedroom floor.” 

“Who would want to live in this shithole, anyway?”

“I love you and your brother more than anything in the whole world.”

“Guess who I hung out with today?”

“[Name] just called me a slut.”

“How do you explain $860 in your purse?”

“I mean, I’m sure you can be a sweet kid when you want, but right now you’re a really bad influence.” 

“We are so perfect for each other.”

“That’s how you get a bladder infection, you child abuser!”

“The itsy-bitsy spider dropped acid at the park…”

“We’re moving, so you won’t be saying [name] again. Ever.”

“What the hell did you tell her?”

“Take your hands off her!”

“Goddamn dollar-fifty-a-square-foot floor!”

“Um, how about you’re jailbait?”

“Well, what do you think? Are we hot or what?”

“If this gets you laid, you owe me double.”

“Look at your pupils. You’re so fucking busted.”

“I want you here with me. You’re my heart. I’ll make it right.”

“Would you like me to model my new thong?”

“Why does my tongue hurt?”

“He grabbed my throat and he threw me against his van.”

“She cuts.”

“That’s your brain cells popping.”

“So you’re a model?”

“Maybe I’ll marry into the family.”

“That is a tongue ring.”

“And look at this, [name]. You’re gonna love this…”

“You didn’t even know how to pay the bills.”

“We don’t have extra stuff, but you know we’re doing okay. You don’t have to steal.”

“I would die for you, but I won’t leave you alone right now.”

“It’s no wonder Dad didn’t want to be with you, you didn’t even finish high school!”

“I barely even felt that!”

“Her boyfriend hits me.”

“Oh my God! Are you kidding me? Where do you think I learned this shit from?”

“We jacked it, okay! It’s not like your broke-ass ever has any money to give me!”

“Don’t ever start smoking.”

“So, [name], how was the halfway house?”

“You will go to jail, you fucking slut!”

“Who would you say is the hottest girl in the whole school?”

“Mothers, lock up your sons!”

“It tasted kinda nasty.”

“You know, if everybody married someone from a different race, then in one generation there would be no prejudice.”

“That’s it. You need to get out.”