Admirer
Summary: Just a Brad x Jill fic. Not enough of this pairing either. But anyway... this is just my version of how Brad died. Be warned. i started writing this when i was 10. I'm 16 now. lol.
The teratophobiad chicken limped as fast as he could while still keeping an eye on the foreboding darkness that had been bestowed upon him the last couple of days. In the events that transgressed over the past few days, he had managed to gain a twist of luck as well as an advantage over some things, albeit being scared to death by every moving thing he came across.
But things were still good. He was able to find the city's main hospital and a few medical supplies inside in order to close up the large gash that had spread across his abdomen. He was grateful enough to escape with that and not a giant hole in the middle of his head. He would have to thank Jill for that later if she was still alive.
Other than that he also found a few different guns and bullets from the dead officers and police cars that had littered the streets. Not enough to wiped out an entire army of undead civilians but just enough to get by with.
He tripped and fell again with a loud thud on the barren dirt underneath him. He almost cried at the sharp pain that fell out of his body in trickling, red streams. His wounds had opened once more and he barely had enough bandages to secure himself again. He cursed himself for being unprepared and slowly got to his feet. Brushing past a couple dozen more trees, he climbed up a giant clump of a hill only to see the havoc brought upon the scene.
Raccoon City Graveyard; or at least what was left of it. Headstones toppled over each other like dominos and a giant viewable tunnel that stretched across the land. In the darkness, he caught a hazy view of something curled up into a ball and writhing. A giant worm maybe or a caterpillar. He didn't want to wait around to find out.
He slid down the hill and scanned the area looking for the next pathway. Beyond the rubble that had varnished the landscape, he spotted a stone structure along a makeshift ladder. If he guessed right that structure was the now destroyed well that led to the sewers below. Just as long as he could get out of here, he wouldn't mind the smell of it.
He went down a few steps and then hopped off into the murky, purple current that almost carried him off. Distant growls could be heard throughout the dark corridors.
"Almost too close" he thought.
The noise was right down the passageway to be exact. The sound of splashing water got louder, then quieter, and then louder again as if someone or something was using an evasive attack tactic or something.
Brad shuddered at the sound of sharp talons being slid across the stone walls. He jumped again at the sound coming from the opposite side. He'd ought to go back the way he came but figured they'd just find a way to corner him anyway. He was running out of time and his options were spatially limited. He couldn't stand and fight even with the remainder of bullets he had.
(Or maybe he was just afraid... afraid of everything with dying by some monster being his biggest. Why he was unnaturally afraid of such abominations he had no idea. Maybe because he lived with a couple of them when he was younger. Or more like a whole neighborhood of them. It felt like everyone had rejected him in the past. Family, so called friends, and everyone else thought he didn't have a purpose in life. Over time, he began to think until he didn't have a purpose, ignoring the "everyone has an important role in the world" motto. It must've been why he was running away so many times; to get away from the deception and renunciation that had been enshrouding him in his anxious moments of solitude.
Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he rejected the world. He had only a certain amount to how much he could stand up for himself, only to get put down again. Maybe he blamed himself for letting these kinds of things happen to him.
Sometimes he wish he were dead in these times. Wishing someone or something would put him out of this everlasting misery that followed him endlessly through time.)
Brad jumped at the sound of a monstrous screech followed by another coming from the other side. They were nearing closer and closer each second.
He just stared in increasing angst as a shadow had been cast across the dim lit wall. A silhouetted figure divulged itself to him. Two demonic yellowish eyes glared back at him with astonished curiosity. Its' long, baneful looking claws twitched in the darkness giving almost a shearing sound.
He backed away a few steps only to hear the other behind him.
Large talons on that one as well. But different from the ones that he had seen shot up at the hospital. The scales on it's skin had changed from a green to an almost poisonous purple as well as the claws.
Brad felt obtuse not being able to know what these things carried besides the virus, but they looked pretty fatal to him. And he didn't want to stick around if they were either.
Dripping water from afar made the alerted the creatures, sending them into a makeshift counterattack mode. Yet still, he stared as they began to creep slowly sideways. and then back again.
Just then in the makeshift opening that he had come in through, a can had casually rolled itself down to the bottom floor making an unpleasant clang. The creatures stiffened their heads and readied there claws, finishing their stance with a malicious war cry that shook even the walls.
Brad watched in fear as they began their attack as the rushed towards him and leaped into what was left of the space above him.
Tears almost came to his eyes as he foretold himself what was going to happen next. But just as they were inches away from his neck, as if by force, something pushed him down into the dark and murky water below. He grimaced at the content that had fill his mouth and nostrils.
The freaks had missed by a second and had slammed into each other, giving him time to escape.
Brad didn't know he could sprint that fast, despite being wounded and in thick fluid. He took off like a madman trying to escape from the asylum in which he was held captive in.
Another ladder came into view as he quickly reached for it. Another couple of roars came behind him, shoving him up the ladder.
Chilling night air rushed past him, giving him the relief he needed. Though halfway out, a stinging, unbearable pain shot through his right leg. He could only grit his teeth and let out a slight aching yelp.
The creature was half his size but could still hold a mean grip on him. Brad desperately kicked the creature in the face, but to no avail. The more he kicked the tighter the more the claws had delved deeper into the already splitting flesh.
Though a blast from the 44. Magnum was all he needed to send the monstrosity back down into the hole. He quickly reached for the manhole lid beside him and sealed the entrance to the underground. A screech muffled itself and then-
Utter silence. Something that counted as a safe haven and also a warning for him at times like these. He sucked his teeth at the throbbing pain in his leg. Cursing himself again for the lack of bandages and , he used what little he had left of it along with a piece of cloth ripped from his shirt. He sighed at the poor job he had done on it yet decided not to fret about fixing it. Moving quickly was a must in this situation.
Using his empty assault rifle as a crutch, he went his own merry way towards the nearby gate. His ears twitched and body stiffened, he heard an almost clanking sound.
Another one. And then another; turning into a forceful fist on a door.
Another loud punch and something popped out and landed to the floor with a hard thud 20 times that of a rolling quarter.
Brad dared to turn his head to see what the noise was but already had an idea when a rust-colored lid slid into view.
With no time for him to react, a green after-image rushed into his front view and tackled him to the ground.
Everything was a blur. Green, scaly arms flailed wildly in the air as weak and scrawny arms tried to grip them. Brad kicked and screamed, albeit having no advantage over his opponent.
The hunter swiped at him furiously only reaching the surface of his partially red-stained vest. With enough force, he rolled the monster on it's back and struggled to push it's head into the nearby fountain.
As he gripped its chin and held it's free arm by the boot, something awestruck him when he made eye contact with the creature. Past memories flashed before him like water through a floodgate.
Those eyes. He remembered looking at them in fear. Whenever they told him to undress himself, to get on his knees, or to be insulted by unmentionable names he couldn't even comprehend.
"You're the best piece of ass," they said.
"You worthless son of a bitch!" They bellowed.
"I created this piece of crap?" They questioned with devilish curiosity.
The hell that he experienced for 15 years had still haunted him to this day. The hell that he had once slaughtered with red-stained hands and a blade of destruction. He tried to run away from it but it followed him as proof of what he'd committed. He never even recalled hearing of the word homicide until much later on after he had done it. He didn't want to do it but he was driven. Possessed by an evil spirit in order to do what they wanted; something even he could control.
He felt it again. The evil. The urge to kill. The Hunter was it's prey and he was hungry.
Brad rolled the Hunter onto it's back and gripped it's face with his hand. He pinned down it's arms with his feet and forcefully tried to pry it's mouth open. The monster kicked and squealed but to no avail. Those squeals were filled with gurgles as the jawbones cracked and blood began rising up from the opening. A sickly grin spread across Brad's face in sadistic enjoyment while he proceeded to shove the creature's head in the water.
Silence took over again, the Hunter making it's last attempt and finally giving up. Brad stared at the twitching fiend for a long moment and then hastily backed away wide- eyed and shaken.
"I did that?" he thought, chilled by what had just overcome him. Mass paranoia had taken over once more and he quickly backed off; running so far back he eventually lost sight of the gruesome scene and into more woods.
What seemed like an endless pathway of trees and ditches he found himself at another familiar location.
A broken rundown factory in the middle of what now seemed to be the heart of a jungle. He remembered being here during his childhood. Another one of his secret hiding places before it had been closed off by an unknown company; Umbrella of all people.
At the end of the deep, closed-in ditch he scaled the ladder and looked to the bridge above him. His first thoughts were on how he was going to get in without having to go through any more "obstacles". If he remembered well then there should've been a way in from the sewage disposal below the crags of rock. As he made his way down something caught his eye once more. A brunette short haired woman stood on the bridge that hung above him. But she wasn't alone.
There stood the thing he feared most of all and hoped never to encounter again. The 6 foot behemoth towered over the woman and swiped one of its tentacles at her. Luckily she managed to dodge it. Brad wanted to say something but just waited and watched for the out come. More tentacles swiped at the woman. Then she did something Brad would never think of her to do. She moved away from Nemesis's hand just in time to go jumping over the edge. Roughly she landed on the ground and trudged into the sewage disposal entrance looking unphased by his encounter and unaware of Brad's presence. He looked back up at Nemesis only to see him swing open the front door. He looked different than he had last seen him save for the pants and mega overbite.
Brad let his mind wander. If he was after...no...tracking down Jill, then he couldn't let her die. He owed a lot to Jill, not because she saved his life or anything, but because she defended him. She made him feel safe. His own personal security blanket. But there was something more to it in the long run. A burning desire, reaching for something that burned hotter than flames. She probably never noticed how he felt but that didn't stop him from looking away from her. She was his Amazon. His first secret admirer.
That'd never happen though, he thought. Chris Assfield probably already took him as his queen. She deserved someone more gentle and compassionate, not devoted to just justice and its entirety. What was he kidding, He could never be that kind of guy. He'd always be the same close-minded, fearful "Chickenheart " he was meant to be.
But it didn't mean he couldn't try to talk to her. It wasn't the best time to divulge his feelings toward her in this situation. At the same time, it might be his only chance. Sadly time was running out. He focused on other things to keep his mind away from Nemesis's tentacle infection. He hadn't paid attention to it until now. He could feel the virus spreading through his body like a mad disease, taking over his mind every passing second. His struggles against the oncoming force were beginning to slip. He felt the craving for flesh and marrow deep in the pit of his stomach. His skin turned paler and paler.
What're you gonna do, sit here and let Jill be killed, a voice in his head rang out. Brad shook his head and proceeded in after her.
Quickly he fell back into the water as another Hunter came flying into him. He grimaced at the purple colored waste water filled his mouth. Quickly jumping out the path of the creatures next attack he hopped up on a nearby ledge to the next room. Unluckily for him, the scientists hadn't left for their coffee break. A faint but foul odor filled his nose once more. A nearby zombie lunged at him, but he quickly blocked it with his assault rifle/crutch. His enemy wouldn't let go of the weapon and the rest of his gang neared closer. Instead he let go and fell to the floor rolling around and crawling to the other side of the room. He probably wouldn't have found any ammo in here for the gun anyway. In to the next room and into the next one. The scent he smelled earlier became fouler with each room. It made him want to blow chunks. Before he did he took the elevator leading up to the 1st floor.
Bug juice pooled around his boots as soon as he stepped out but stepped over the scorched creatures nonetheless. This must be Jill's handiwork. She's still alive then, he thought. He slowly opened the door at the end of the hallway, his uncontrollable shaking turning into relief as he saw that the room was void of monsters. He scanned the room to see medical supplies shelved on the wall. Locking the door behind him, he went over and grabbed some gauze and some painkillers. It seemed the infection hurt more than he thought. Much to his luck, a crutch stood in the corner. Limping was beginning to become a chore for him. After he re-bandaged himself, he felt refreshed again.
But he stood there again, staring off into the space. Thoughts filled is head again. Horrible ones. Cannibalistic ones you could say. He fantasized about ripping Jill's flesh apart, feeling her blood on his tongue, looking at her pained expressions while he experimentally tortured her little by little. Tasty Jill. Sweet Jill. Let me eat your brains out. Let you be apart of you .I want to feel your humble flesh liquefying in between my teeth. A cynical grin spread wide across face but quickly faded as he forced the thought away.
Oh. God no... I could never do that to Jill . Not ever.
Oh come on... you know you wanna to do it.
No. I...
Stop holding back. Just let it take over. You can't win. Besides you're gonna die anyway. Why not take a chunk out of your precious admiree before you lose it. See, your already imagining it again. Come on, just go and kill her already.
SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!
Come on...its easy...just like last time.
Last time?
Last time was one of his deepest and darkest points in his childhood. His drug-addled Mother was sober enough to buy him a pet hamster for his tenth Birthday. A small pang of dim joy ran through Brad's mind when he knew his parents had some small compensation for him. But sadly, that small fortune vanished one night. His Father came bursting through the door, spitting on his dearly beloved Wife who stared at the ceiling.
He spotted Brad sitting at the kitchen table playing with Max, the name for the closest friend he could have. The Father just stared at him full of scorn and hate in his eyes. Before the young Brad could turn his head, he was struck with a hard fist to the cheek and slid to the floor. Drops of blood fell to the floor from his cut tongue. Too late to get away, the man grabbed him by the collar. and shoved him back in the chair.
"I wanna play a game", he slurred, looking at the small, brown haired animal looking all over the place. Brad reached out his hands to grab his pet but the man swiped it and went over to the stove.
(Don't read this part if you have a weak heart for animal cruelty even in a story. Trust me. I regretted writing this and almost cried after I thought about it.)
"Don't even think about moving", he threatened. "Or else."
The boy could hear pots and pans rattling loudly behind him and his dad lighting a flame on the stove top.
No...
Tiny, but long squeals, filled his ears as fat tears ran down his cheeks. He simply covered his ears to drown out the noise of his dying companion. What could he was insecure, helpless, and afraid of his oppressors. Moments after the squealing had died down, what laid in front of him was just a charcoaled remnant of what his heart used to be on a dirty plate.
" Its called "Eat The Rodent", he laughed. The shattered boy stared in disbelief.
"Eat it now, or I'll starve you for you for the whole week."
He'd rather starve himself to death than eat the rest of his joy away.
"Unless you wanna play Hide and Seek," he said sliding his hand up against his thigh.
Brad couldn't take anymore of that game either. He hesitated and then proceeded to pick up the crackling corpse. It still writhed a little in his hand, but its eyes still worked and focused on Brad. He bit his lip sensing the creatures urge to get it over with. He closed his eyes and felt his teeth grapple on to the crispy fur sinking into the skull and then...
(I can't write anymore of this... sorry.)
"STOP IT!," he yelled banging his head against the wall. A thin stream of blood ran down his forehead and mixed with his tears. Its in the past now. I'm a little stronger than before now. So just...stop.
He regained his composure, going over to the medical rack again to get a band-aid. A sigh escaped his lips. Time wasted over nothing. Jill could've been dead by now. And all because of this stupid virus. Well,he wouldn't have it.
Just a little longer, he thought to himself. Then you can take over.
He turned to the next door on the opposite side of the room entering a short catwalk. Nothing out of the ordinary there except an maybe a way out, he thought. Sadly mistaken, he found himself in a storage closet weith nothing but pipes and...
"No way," he muttered. Of all the places it could be, a perfectly modeled Rocket Launcher stood in front of him surrounded by a thick shield of glass.
"A code? Aw man, I'm bad at codes. Okay lets see...
Just then a series of sirens blared covering the room in red. A female voice boomed over the intercom.
"WARNING!MISSLE ATTACK CONFIRMED!ALL PERSONELL EVACUATE IMMEDIATLEY!
Brad shuddered. Missles?Where the Hell are missles coming from? From the people who want to blow us into fucking oblivion thats who.
Oh man, I really don't have time for this. Come on, think, think, think...got it. He snatched up one of the large iron pipes from the floor and began whacking away.
"Come on," he gritted.
"TEN MINUTES UNTIL IMPACT."
"Come on, come on, come on," he repeated whacking harder.
"No good goddamn son of a bitch!," he yelled finally breaking the glass. He was starting to sound like his Father. Grabbing the weapon, he returned to the Main Hallway. The charred zombies in the shuttered passageway before him meant that Jill had come through there.
Good. I'm on track then.
Down the emergency ladder and past more dead corpses, a roar so terryifying. rippled the air. The S.T.A.R.S. member froze, collapsing onto his knees, holding himself. What little bravery he had left suddenly escaped him. He couldn't stop shaking. His insides churned. Even with a rocket launcher would he be able to kill him? Would he die a torturous, painful death if he went up against the abomination? What if he defeated the purpose of his objective and killed them both?
With no time to contemplate, something grabbed his shoulder from behind and tore through the flesh of his neck. He gasped at the pain.
No. Stop. Get away from me. I'm already doomed to transformation. Why are you adding on to it?
He forced the zombie off of of him, giving him his jacket to chew on instead. The instant air and heat of the room glided past his wound, making him hiss. Nevertheless he was still able to smack his enemy upside the head with his crutch. The zombie wouldn't let go of it so he just left it and went back to his chore of limping.
He heard the rounds of an Assault Rifle not too far off.
Almost there.
And then that terryfying roar that shook him before.
I have to keep going. No matter how scared I am. I won't leave her this time. She's done so much for me. I can't just leave it at that.
Eventually, the man collided with a heap of junk, taking in the smell of gunfire and something toxic. And something else.
The small hum of a machine gradually turning into a crescendoing that deaf silence as something huge and white tore through the opposite side of the area where he was standing. The blast sent him flying into another pile of junk. Unfortunately, he felt another massive pang below his left rib cage. He gasped for air as he struggled at the broken pipe that was now lodged in and out of him. More blood let loose as he lost control of his left eye from the imploding shrapnel. He started blacking out, fading into the very darkness in which he tried to crawl out from.
Thats it, he thought. I'm done for... Sorry Jill... I tried...
Just then, a bright light appeared before him, almsot blinding him, making him light headed. Then, a little boy who looked awfully familiar. He stared at the man with a blank face, showing no signs of emotion or threat.
"You're..." his voice trailed off at the sight of looking at his younger self; but this time he looked ..twisted. his eyes red with malice and a face that could make even the devil himself weep.
"So thats it, huh?" the younger Brad said. "You're just going to let her be killed by that monster.
"I can't... its already...late...". Breathing was harder for him now.
"Why is it too late?" the boy asked already knowing the question.
"Why?...I ... don't understand?"
"Come on...you've known this whole entire time. You know why you can't stand up for yourself and help anybody. You try to hide it but its still there. You try to run away from it but its always a step ahead of you. You know exactly what i'm talking about.?
"What... I...still..."
"Its your fear," the boys voice sounded demonic now. "Your fear is getting in the way of whats really going on. But I guess your too much of of a damn chicken to confront it. Maybe you're better off dead. Just another person better off dead.
Brad couldn't believe what he was hearing.. especially from himself.
Hm... can't even save a single woman. I expected better from myself after so many years. She wasn't that bad looking either.
Brad, with his remaining eye noticed something clutched in the boys hand. a ball shape hung by a head of hair. But it wasn't a ball.
It was Jill...what was left of her: Mouth draped open in awe, half the skin from her face, dead eyes staring back at him in disbelief.
"You really are hopeless," the bodiless woman croaked. You couldn't even save me. Everybodys right about you. You can't help anybody. All you do is get in the way and make things worse. Take me for example."
Brad just bowed his head in shame.
Why don't you just die. Nobody will miss you. you won't be remembered as anything special. Just...
Brad could comprehend the words no longer. Too much blood had left him unresponsive. Blacknesss overcame him and he fell into blackness.
So thats it, huh? he thought. Wheres the "You Are Dead" screen?
Awaiting his death, thoughts muddled around endlessly in his slowly disimtigrating mind:
"Its okay sweetie" he would hear his dead Mother would say.
"Your nothing kid, when are you gonna get that through your thick ass skull, huh? His drunken, mad Father would say."
Ready for your daily ass kicking, the kids at school would say.
So many vulgar thoughts and experiences racking his psyche little by little, tearing his soul slowly in pieces, further turning his intrepidity into cowardice. Once that was gone, he could no longer function.
Darkness, darkness, and more darkness.
Maybe its better this pain. No sadness. No anger. Yeah... this is good. All that I've been through. All my suffering. It can end now.
Seconds passed. Then nothing. He lay there still breathing. He figured the virus had already taken over and he was another mindless servant. But he opened his eye and his body was still intact, despite the long pole that had pierced him. Far away, but close his name could be heard.
"Hey, Chickenshit," someone he knew all to well said.
"What,"...
Your just gonna let her die without even making an effort to save her? Then what the hell was the whole point of even trying to if you're just gonna lie here. I expected better from you Chickenheart.
He was at a loss for words. What could he do?
Look...don't go down a failure. Prove to us that we have a reason worth living for to the end. Show us the real meaning of S.T.A.R.S.. The only reason I'm so hard on you is because I know you have what it takes to be one of us. Now...show Jill,no,everyone what you can do.
As soon as the voice faded, reality had smacked Brad in the face. Born with a new ambitious motive, he was determined to see everything to the end. He could hear Jill's voice along with Nemesis's. He knew what to do.
Grasping the pole that was stuck between him and the ground, he slowly began to extract himself. He must have hit an important organ, because the pain was causing him to have short periods of blacking in and out again.
"Almost ...out", he said struggling for air. His chest was on fire. "I can do this." It doesn't doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt ! It doesn't hurt!. This didn't even come close to the pain he experienced when he was younger. Before he knew it, he was on all fours puking blood. Knowing there was no time to compensate his small victory, he picked up the rocket launcher and made his way to the exit .
"Jill!" he yelled. "Jill!"
He could see her at the still locked exit, cornered by the behemoth , only a magnum in her hand. And soon that was out of ammo. Ignoring the fact that his body was severly injured, he ran over the her falling again as he reach her.
"Brad?" Jill asked.
"Jill...you go on ahead ...I'll finish him so you can escape." He tossed her the master key that he had picked up earlier.
"No...Brad...come with me...I can treat our wounds and-
"No thanks, Jill. I think I'll take a rain check on that one. Through his hazy visions he could see his veins getting redder and his skin beginning to turn purple. He stood up at her smiling his eye focused on hers. Before he knew it he had her against the door, his lips on hers. Using the key he gave her, he took it and opened the door sending her flying backwards.
"I love you" he mouthed before closing the door between them. He ignored her muffled cries for him to come back and faced Nemesis, rocket launcher holsted on his shoulder. They'd both go together.
Heh. to think...my first kiss in a situation like this. I'm content with that. He smiled once more beofre locking on to his target.
"This ones for you Assfield" he said before pulling the trigger. Everything went into a singularity. A white light enshrouded him as his souls was being pulled away from his evaporating body. He was happy. He died for the one that he loved. He didn't die a coward. He died a hero. And that would be a memory he'd ever forget.
lol. Tell me what you think after 5 years. Constructive criticism is accepted.
