Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Beware the Broken ❯ 1. That's Life ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By: Metalic

Introduction Note- I've officially been accused of writing too much by my dad xD. Which I surely take as a compliment… if only he knew whatI've been writing, that would be the death of me. As usual… I'll still update without reviews, if you must know for sure, I don't plan to stop due to lack of them. But keep in mind… I write for my own entertainment and a certain few online that can enjoy my writing, so not everything will be accurate as far as history. For the most part, I'm hardly practicing anymore, just writing what I want, how I want, so if you don't like it, review… but I don't plan to defend myself or such, I'll read the review, understand the points, but this is the warning that you will not get a reply or even acknowledgement that your review was read >]. (But it depends on what you say, and how you say it, I think we all know what writers don't like.) Oh and, even if you do like it, review xD.

Jared's eyes were beginning to hurt tremendously; lights flashing once every millisecond and so bright that closing his eyes didn't help. The headache that he'd been experiencing for the passed hour only got worse due to the loud music playing right next to his ear. He'd moved seats multiple times but it never helped. He would have left, but his friend Sal, who was having a great time it seemed, had brought him and Jared didn't want to bother him. However, originally Sal had brought him here with the claim that he needed to get out more. But if this was his idea of a good time, at least as far as what Jared was going through, he had finally lost his mind.

The women were thin, mostly naked, and it seemed as though they were all incredibly rich. Unless of course they'd spent all of there money on plastic surgery, which it looked as though almost all of them had gotten.

Sal was overly perverted, and desperately in love with female anatomy, however Jared was much less interested in sexual activity as he still had some dignity left. No one knew, because no one had ever thought to ask, since he was so good looking, but Jared was a virgin, and hadn't been on a date since his high school days. He was very shy, and lived a life almost completely locked up in his office, or his home. Sal was the only one who didn't seem to understand that he just wanted to be left alone. Women didn't interest him, nothing did, nothing but work. But it seemed no one understood that someone so smart, successful and handsome could prove to be a real low life, or otherwise a loser.

One of the obviously less shy women approached him and stuck here boobs right up in his face. She smelled of sweat, and he would have been the only man to notice due to how attractive she really was. Her beauty covered her smell, to everyone put a man as observant and uninterested as the one she'd chosen. Jared felt something building up in the back of his throat, emerging from his stomach; he was about to throw up. He gave her a disgusted look, not necessarily directed at her, but more a warning of what he felt he needed to do. Finally he shot up from his seat pushing the black haired women out of his way and running into the bathroom with his hand over his mouth.

More than simply letting the formerly stomached food all from his mouth into the water, he opened the first bathroom stall he could reach. He literally shot the vomit from his mouth into the toilet to unable to hold it in once he was inches from being close enough. The taste was horrible as the food continued to exit his body in a series of coughs and gags. His throat stung by the acid, and his tongue cursed by previously chewed food, Jared fell backward and passed out, just after he made out a bit of bright red blood on top of the water.

Jared's headache was gone when he awoke later, awoke in his own bed, with his cat curled up next to his face on the pillow. His memory was blurred for a moment, but soon he remembered the sight of blood and chunks of food in the toilet. The thought of it made him want to repeat the incident, but he was able to hold back. Coughing up blood was definitely a reason to call a doctor, he'd put it off for so long thinking these headaches would clear up by themselves, but now he had to. But of course, work was more important to him.

He reached for the phone, waking his grey-colored plump cat as he did so. He dialed the number to his own office, hoping to get his secretary. As the phone rang he rolled up his sleeve to look at his watch to make sure she would have actually been there. It was an hour passed the time he should have shown up; he should have called in sick earlier, if only he'd awoken.

“Hello,” her young, sweet voice came through the phone.

“Hi, Rachel, I'm not going to make it today, there's something wrong with me, I have to see a doctor. I'll try to be in by tomorrow but no promises, if an employee or worker asks just tell them that, anyone else just say I'm not available at the moment,” Jared purposely crammed everything into a small amount of words, thinking Rachel would want to get back to her work.

“Aw, well we'll miss you around here, hope you feel better, tell Horace I said hello,” Rachel replied, using Jared's own language, short sweet, and to the point.

“Thanks, bye,” Jared replied and than politely waited for a reply.

“Buh-bye,” She replied and then hung up the phone. She smiled thinking of him, his beautiful face and sweet voice.

Before Jared got a chance to dial the next number, Sal walked in holding a ham sandwich.

“Oh you're awake,” He said with a mouth full of ham, cheese and wheat bread in his mouth; he swallowed. “Horace was scratching on the door half the night, hope you don't mind I slept over to make sure nothing else went wrong,” He added, followed by another enormous bite out of the sandwich. Jared gave him an appreciated look just to humor him knowing that the only real reason he'd stayed over was to get into the refrigerator. If there was anything Sal liked more than women it was food; surprisingly he wasn't overweight.

“Thanks for bringing me home, hey could you do me one more favor? I'm about to call the doctor could you drive me there for the appointment, I'm not sure I should get behind the wheel, please?” Jared had been taught to always be respectful and polite with whomever he spoke to, even if it was someone such as Sal Stevenson.

“Sure thing man, whatever you want,” Sal replied taking another mouthful, dripping mayonnaise on his shirt. “Oh, shit, be right back, okay?” He mumbled behind a half-chewed bite of food.

“All right, thanks again,” Jared called as Sal shut the door behind him; he wasn't coming back. He'd stay away from the room on purpose and claim he forgot. With the little dignity his had he was embarrassed just to be in the same room with a man lying in bed, a real homophobe as anyone could tell. Jared however was a fan of equality, prejudice of no race, religion or culture. However he owned a factory in which all of the workers were separated by gender, and thought it better to avoid hiring a homosexual; especially male. The men worked shirtless do to the warm conditions created by the furnaces, and something like that may pose as a distraction to someone who is attracted to it.

“What do you mean he won't let me work because I'm gay? I'm more than qualified for this job, I thought Mr. Hayes was open to anyone, god damn it, that's why I took time to fill out the stupid three page form!” Nick yelled into the phone rudely, yelling at Rachel as if it were her fault.

“I'm sorry sir, but in this factory there are no dress codes, except that you have to be wearing something the passes your knees below the waste. Mr. Hayes feels that you will be more trouble than your worth and has turned down your application, I'm sorry, but that is where it ends. He's a busy man, and has to make choices,” She explained calmly. Nick tried to hold his temper but ended up stomping on the ground and at the same time slamming his fist down on the table.

“Damn it!” He yelled. “You know what, you can tell Mr. Hayes I'm not a fucking pervert and don't want to work under his homophobic standards anyway. See if I give a damn if he won't hire me,” Nick tore the job application to pieces.

“Don't curse at me sir, I'd tell you to talk to Mr. Hayes about it, but he's unavailable, good-bye, sir,” She said and then hung up the phone for the sake of avoiding being screamed at all over again. Her head fell into her hands and she grunted to let off some steam before continuing to go over the worker's status papers.

“Fuck!” Nick slammed the phone down and kicked the leg of his small, cheap, kitchen table, which he ate at. Unfortunately to add to his problems, the leg broke right off of the table and leaned to the side, causing the dishes on top to slide off the edge. Nick quickly grabbed the leg after the glass hit the floor and broke, and tried to balance the table on top of it. He was almost about to scream after he'd given up and simply kicked the entire table onto it's side. Not long after he came to realize that wrecking his worthless apartment wasn't going to do any good, and fell against the wall.

Nick lived on one meal a day just to make sure he didn't run out of the money he'd saved up before he left, but that time had come. He had very little food in the house, and no way to make money, at this rate he'd be starving on the streets in a few weeks. He had nowhere to go to, and it seemed like the world hated him, his family hated him, the landlord hated him, and now every business manager in New York hated him. He didn't want to end up like those hobos on the streets, no one did, but he could deny no longer that it was coming down to that. Pushing a shopping cart around, stolen from the wal-mart parking lot, just hoping someone will hand you some money for a decent hair cut.

His rich-assed brother wouldn't spare another cent, that he was sure of; then again he did owe the guy money, but he didn't think they'd ever see each other again, it was the least of this problems. He did fear the day his brother came back though, knowing how much he hated when people took his money, and knowing that he wasn't afraid to put a bullet in any head. And the constant flirting wasn't desirable either, Jim wasn't bad looking; but brother on brother was the last thing Nick wanted. Apparently Jimmy thought differently, Nick had known for some time how much his own brother wanted him in his bed.

“Rent!” He heard a knock on the door.

He slowly slid down the wall onto his bottom banging his head against the all but empty refrigerator next to him on purpose. “Why me?” He sighed wishing he could just break into tears; but even he wouldn't do that.

“Rent, Hunter, rent!” The landlord, Mr. Wret banged on the door harder in annoyance.

“I don't have any money…” Nick's voice trailed off as he ran his fingers through his hair, hearing his stomach roaring to be filled.

The knob twisted and the door flung open as Mr. Wret stomped into the room. He observed the pitiful scene before him, but being who he was, did not pity Nick in the least. “You haven't paid me in three months, you've only been here five! I got nothing against your man love problems, but what I do have problems with is freeloaders! What do you think I am a homeless shelter, a charity?” Mr. Wret scolded.

“I think you're an asshole but that's out of the question isn't it?” Perhaps his words weren't the kindest either, but at the moment, all he gave a damn about was himself, at least he had one person who cared about him.

“I don't want your smart mouth, I want payment, you got one week, or you're out. And I want you to fix that table, it doesn't belong to you, I'll let the dishes go only because I'm in a sympathetic mood,” Mr. Wret's voice was serious and straight forward, which is what Nick hated most about it.

“All right,” He said regrettably as the landlord left to bug the next person about their rent.

He sat there for a moment, just telling himself that there was no way he could dig up fifty dollars in cash before a week went by. But then, as he just happened to glance down at the shredded job application below his feet, a phrase caught his eye. He picked up one of the pieces and read it over; in short it said factory employees paid daily in cash. You couldn't get any better than that, and Nick knew how to fix his mistake. All his life he'd been openly gay and never got a thing, now it was time to stop being honest, and lie to win. Feeling relieved and a sense of hope for himself he stood up and walked quickly out of his room to pick up another application. In the other he'd written in print, so now he'd write in cursive, his name would be Scott Reynolds, and he'd be straight.

Tyler turned left onto Centre Street from Canal, immediately sticking he and his partner behind a long line of traffic in which none of the cars were moving at all. He cursed shortly and slammed his hands on the steering wheel. If there was anything he hated more than traffic he was yet to discover it. He grunted and turned off the engine, removing the keys from the ignition. You would think that being a cop may have given you the right-of-way in any situation, but of course, everyone had the idea that whatever they were doing was more important than what anyone else was. Tyler had a mind to turn his siren on and force his way through the lines of cars, but that was against the law and could have easily gotten him fired.

His partner didn't seem to mind the wait so much, as he was a resourceful and patient person. Instead he entertained himself by fiddling with the papers in the glove compartment and looking at the few with illustrations and pictures. However, the sounds of the sheets crinkling and brushing against each other only made Tyler's wait more miserable. “Darren! Could you please sit still and quit messing with my shit!” Tyler hollered at him suddenly unable to take the annoyance. Darren said nothing; he simply submissively let his hands fall to his sides in apology.

Darren was a rookie, and it was only his third week on the job; only his third day having an experienced partner like Tyler Flemming. He was young, as young as cops came, 21 years of age; and all he really knew was how to shoot a P38 or smaller pistol. Tyler, however, had been at his current status for four years and was twenty-eight years old. For a while he'd been trying to raise his title, but at his current rate it seemed he'd be stuck an NYPD cop for quite sometime. And wiping the new guy's nose (helping Darren learn the ropes) until further notice only made the thought worse.

“Finally,” Tyler groaned as the traffic started moving forward; slowly, but at least something was happening and he had something to put his mind on. He started up the car again and began creeping forward as did the others around him.

“So…” Darren began hoping it was at last safe to start a conversation with his irritated partner. “Seen any action lately, shoot any bad guys, car chases? Bank robberies, anything?” He asked. He was definitely in it for the fun, action and possibly glory over the money. After all, his father was rich and Darren was given a handsome amount of money every month as a gift from his parents. Nothing was too good for their little boy; even if he had turned out different. Tyler knew pretty much everything about his partner, but he hadn't quite received the information of his abnormal sexuality.

“Nope, nope, nope, and nope.” Tyler replied. “Same old boring shit, you can't shoot a guy until you catch him, and the only one we know to be guilty as of now is damn hard to catch,” Tyler replied, another disappointed sigh passing through his dry lips as he sat back putting his foot on the brake gently. The traffic had stopped once again. Tyler's eyes fell shut and he leaned his head against the back of the seat.

“The one who robbed the bank in LA, you mean, right?” Darren said. He didn't really want to get on Tyler's bad side and felt lucky that he actually knew something to perhaps give a better impression. Darren didn't really like Tyler in a sexual way, he wasn't racist, but he found the dark skin unattractive. However he did at least want to earn the respect of any more experienced cop he could. “That's the one. He's practically invisible, he could be standing right behind you and you wouldn't know. They call `im…”

Darren cut in. “Wraith, yeah, I know. I'm not that stupid, you know.”

“I see,” Tyler replied barely paying any attention to him anymore. He groaned as a jet black Benz pulled up behind him with the music booming so loud he could understand every word with the windows rolled up. There was no law against it, though, and nothing he could do about it but hold his hands over his ears.

Jimmy turned down the music most of the way, seeing that he was greatly annoying the driver in front of him. If it hadn't been a cop he wouldn't have cared, but in this case it was to his entertainment to humor the young officer as neither of the men most likely had any idea who was behind them. Jimmy didn't like cops, they weren't considerably his greatest enemies in the world but they were always getting in the way, always bugging into things that weren't their business. He tried his best to avoid killing them; they weren't worth it, but he wasn't afraid to kill one or two to save his or a friend's skin.

James Hunter, also known as the Wraith, had many friends, in high and low places, on the inside and out and some simply partners in crime. He was aware that the majority only joined up with him in anything because they were afraid of him, or knew he was outstandingly rich. But he didn't care; he didn't give a shit why they were on his side as long as they really were on his side. He'd been told that his trusting attitude would be his downfall, but he'd had it for twenty-five years, and he was still on top.

He hadn't been in New York, his hometown, for quite some time. He'd spent the last three years in LA with his girlfriend, who left him after finding him making out with another man in a phone booth. Jimmy didn't care, she was a bitch-slut anyway, no matter how much time he'd wasted with her. So once he had nothing to be there for, he moved back to NYC. He'd only been there for a week before the cops found out about him. It wouldn't be two months before the whole town was aware of his return. He knew he hadn't been missed; especially by one particular person who was the main reason he'd returned.

Jimmy was rich, and all though he gave the impression he was an unforgiving asshole who would do anything for money, he really wasn't. Sure he liked to threaten and mess with people, but he was willing to let things slide. He wasn't always that way though, it wasn't until a kind business owner caught him getting into his safe, and let him go. Of course Jim had to put the money back, but he had been young, and he was at the other man's complete mercy as there was a gun pointed at him. He could have been arrested easily, but he'd been let free that night, and look what he'd turned into.

It happened in that very town, in fact just a few hours after he'd loaned Nick the money. He didn't know where to find his younger brother, but it wouldn't be too hard, he was sure Rodney Collins could tell him where to find anything. He was only the owner of a small bar, but he seemed to know the whereabouts of anyone and everyone living near his place; assuming Nick hadn't moved far. The last time he'd seen him he lived with his parents, but by this time they had kicked him out, he was well aware of how long they'd been waiting for him to get old enough to live on his own, for himself.

When he got the chance Jimmy turned onto Kenmare, the street which Rodney's bar was located. Sure enough it was open, just as it had been every day, even holidays, for the past six years. The bar wasn't hard to spot, with a small lit up sign in the window that read `open.' Jimmy pulled the car over to the side of the road as soon as it caught his eye. He turned off the radio before turning his keys out of the ignition. Walking toward the door he wondered what Rodney's reaction to him being back in town would be. Unless one of the gang had spotted him, he probably didn't know. He smirked as he walked through the doors, seeing his ex-boyfriend standing with his back turned to the counter straightening the bottles. His eyes locked on the man's still beautiful form, mainly his most striking feature, his ass. He frowned as a second man came up beside him, whispered something in his ear, and left a short kiss on Rodney's large, red, smooth lips before turning away and heading into the back. It caused Jim to pause for a moment in jealousy, but not long after he continued to approach the counter; he wasn't here to get Rodney back anyway.

“What can I get you,” Rodney asked without looking, simply sensing the presence of a customer, though unaware of who it was.

Jimmy sighed and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Vodka, any flavor, and maybe a bit of that Roddy body I've missed so much,” Jimmy replied. Rodney froze in his tracks, unsure of what to think, hearing the familiar voice as well as the nickname only one man had ever used to address him. He turned his head slightly, recognizing James Hunter immediately when he saw his face from the corner of his eye. He couldn't hold back a smile as he whipped around fully in excitement.

“Hi Rodney,” Jimmy said shortly with a smirk, satisfied that his ex, and now good friend was at least glad to see him. Rodney wanted to say so much, but he was speechless, and he could only get two words passed his lips, luckily the only one's needed.

“Hi Jimmy,” He replied. He said this as Jimmy climbed onto the bar counter, flipping himself over with his legs in the air, and falling into a sitting position on the bar counter with his feet hanging off and dangling in front of Rodney's knees. It wasn't the first time he'd done it, but in the past the purpose was to get a taste of Rodney's delicious lips, but that was before they broke up.

“Was that your new boyfriend,” Jimmy jumped straight into conversation, taking time to re-meet, he was in no hurry.

“Yeah,” Rodney replied looking back to the doorway the lead behind the bar, which the other man had gone through. “More like a pet that does whatever I ask him to, but I like that about him. His name's Cody, moved here from Pennsylvania last year. We're pretty close, well really close, actually. He's got a ring on his finger, if you know what I'm getting at,” Rodney stuttered as he spoke. Afraid that Jimmy wouldn't approve of him getting married, not that he really should have had a say in it, but being a serial killer he could involve himself in a lot of things that were none of his business.

“Well that blows,” Jimmy said jokingly. “I was hoping to get laid,” He said shortly jumping off the counter and landing on his feet straight in front of Rodney, staring him straight in the eyes. Rodney swallowed praying to god that Jimmy wouldn't take advantage of his submissive personality.

“Seen Slick anywhere lately?” Jimmy changed the subject sensing that Rodney was uncomfortable with the situation. As much as he wanted at least a single kiss, he was more respectful than he'd been given credit for.

“Nicky? I haven't seen him here for a while, but I'd be glad to tell you where he lives,” Rodney replied letting out a long breath of relief

Jimmy smirked in satisfaction and took a bottle of Nick's favorite flavored wine from the shelf. “Even better.” He replied pulling out his wallet to pay for the entire bottle.

A/n- I wrote this chapter a while ago actually… never got around to putting it online, in fact I began this before most of the fics I have up now. Why does it matter? Well, my writing was hardly as good back then, so it might be a little awkward at times, I'll gladly take criticism in that area.