Chickenfield

Enrico x Brad
M for language, and violence.

"Take it easy, Chickenheart." Chris Redfield said, as he put his jacket on and flattened out his unruly short hair. Brad Vickers barely, if even, glanced over from the large computer console to his teammate. Inwardly, he sighed to himself.

One day, they won't be calling me Chickenheart. One day, I'm going to-

"Brad, you're still here? Go home already." At the sound of that voice, Brad looked over, and frowned a little. Captain Wesker was there, getting ready to head home for the evening.

"All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy." Joseph Frost chimed in, as he got ready to leave also.

It wasn't particularly late, but it had been such a nice day out; the work that day was slow, and it certainly wasn't needed in any kind of urgency. And so most of them were stopping for the day. But not Brad.

"He's right, you know, Brad. You oughta go out and do something. Why don't you join me for a drink?" Chris asked, shouldering his bag, and pocketing the keys to his bike.

"Oh no, I'm fine... someone's gotta stay behind until the Bravo team's shift starts... you guys go on ahead." Brad said.

"I bet Jill is waiting to hang out with you anyways, Chris." Joseph added, with a smidgeon of jealousy. The only female member on the Alpha team, and she was, as an unwritten rule, Chris's.

Not that Brad particularly cared. She could be dating Frost for all he cared. No, he didn't care if Jill was dating Wesker or Redfield. He wasn't even sure if he liked women. One thing was certain, he liked his computer, and that, was just enough for him. And as it was, the small office cleared out, Chris imploring him once again to join him for a drink before giving up and finally leaving Brad to his own thoughts.

After about an hour or so, slowly, the Bravo team started coming in. First was Forest Speyer.

"Hey, Chickenheart, what's up? Where the Alpha-brats at, huh?" He asked, in his usual playful manner. He lightly scuffed at Brad's arm, grinning at him as he did so. Brad just sighed again.

"They left early. Just me here." Forest frowned.

"Just you? Aww man, you didn't have to wait up. You shoulda left. You never do anything. You and me oughta hang out." Brad looked over at him, his eyes hopeful, but his posture heavy with depression.

"Maybe." Brad said, standing slowly and shouldering his bag.

"You take it easy, OK, Vickers?"

"I'll try..." Brad said turning to leave. Forest reached over and touched his shoulder.

"Look man, I know you're upset about Harriet leaving but... you gotta let it go. She wasn't right for you." Forest said. Brad looked at him, smiling a little before nodding and heading for the door.

"Thanks, that means a lot o me."

"No problem..." Forest said as Brad walked out.

Harriet, his long time girlfriend, left him when she thought he was gay. He insisted he wasn't, but she was convinced otherwise. And from there, he became depressed. He was a quiet guy, but after breaking up with Harriet, he became even more sullen and withdrawn, often saying nothing at all for days on end.

In any case, Brad started his long walk from the S.T.A.R.S. office, to the break room, to get his stuff. He was in no hurry to get there, and as such, he didn't even bother to rush. Another long and lonely night awaited him. As he approached the door, he could hear... singing? Brad shook his head. Whatever it might have been, it was none of his concern. He opened the door to the room and stepped inside.

"I fell into a burning ring of fire..."

Brad looked over and wrinkled his nose. The voice was coming from around the corner, and luckily, he wouldn't be able to see them from where he was currently positioned. However, once he traversed the length of the room to get to the lockers, all he'd have to do was look to his right and there they would be. He made a mental note not to do such a thing.

The singer did not stop, and continued his obnoxious and drunken song, slurring words here and there. Brad's mind was turning gears as he opened his locker to get his things. He knew that voice. It was a voice he heard before, but he could not put a name to it. Probably for the better, he reasoned to himself, because if I found out it was someone like Chief Irons, I wouldn't be able to look at him the same. As if the guy didn't already give me the creeps, with all those dead animals in his office...

"Chickenfield, is that you?" Came the thick, masculine voice. Brad frowned, but the locker door, with a pin-up of the new iMac G3, thankfully was blocking his view. Brad smiled inwardly, when he glanced at it. Always a computer nerd. In any case, he closed the locker, and dared himself to look.

And there he was. Enrico Marini, captain of the Bravo team. Brad felt himself blush, as he looked over Enrico's reclining form. His shirt was opened, revealing a smooth, but well-defined chest, pants that were fitted loosely over his bottom, and boots that were left open, and untied. One arm, both of them well muscled and strong, held a bottle of beer. Brad was unaware that he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly, and started to turn, heading for the door, and hoping to not be noticed, or recognized.

"Hey Chickenfield." Marini said, his speech slurred by the alcohol. Brad stopped, and looked over, dumbstruck, momentarily.

"Evenin' Captain..." Brad muttered. Marini stood, slowly, and staggered over to Brad. As he got closer, Brad could smell the alcohol coming off him thickly. Obviously, the Bravo team captain was drunk, but what could Brad do?

"You know, Chickenfield, I always liked you. I always thought you were dating that slut Jill, but, I guess that's OK." He said, and Brad backed away, slowly. Marini continued to advance on Brad, predatorily.

"C-captain..." Brad's back hit the wall, and he had nowhere left to go. Brad wasn't stupid. He could see the lust, a sick and twisted desire in his dark eyes. Brad's body worked up a sweat, his chest moving up and down more rapidly, and his skin paling. Marini's hot breath washed over him and instantly, Brad was gripped in blind terror. He darted past the older man, tripping over the man's leg, and falling to the ground. Marini did not hesitate, and threw himself on top of Brad, pinning him to the ground.

"No!" Brad cried, struggling to get free, but Marini was bigger, and stronger. With one fluid motion, Marini swung at Brad, and Brad felt a heavy blow to the back of his head. Slowly, he felt his head swimming, and then his vision began to grow fuzzy. He tried to fight it, but the more he tried to stay away, and aware, the harder it was to hold on. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and closed until they shut a final time and did not open.

Enrico Marini was not a homosexual. Of course, to him it was odd that his wife would be there, lying on the ground, asking to be fucked, when he was pretty sure he saw Chickenheart there just a minute ago. But who was he to deny his wife? If she wanted sex, she would get it promptly. If she wanted him to go faster, he would. He felt a whirlwind of emotions,-fear, hate, anger, bitterness, sorrow, joy, pleasure. He held her as he made love to her-overlooking the fact that the longer he stared at her, the more she began to resemble Brad. Finally, when the last of his strength gave out, he fell in a heap on his unconscious comrade. Best sex he'd have in ages, if you asked him.

When Brad came to, he was aware of two things. He was sore, and that there was dead weight on top of him. The fact that he was only partially clothed, and that the dead weight was a person, and that the soreness was mainly from his ass, were all secondary facts. But slowly, as Brad pulled himself out from under the sleeping Bravo Team captain, things started to explain themselves, and when he had figured out what had transpired while he was out, he felt sickened, and terrified. But still, even as fears started nibbling at the edges of his mind, he still couldn't put it out of his mind that somehow, it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be.

No, he told himself, shaking his head furiously. This is wrong. I can't be enjoying something like this, he raped me, for Christ sakes... Brad sighed inwardly, as he began to fix his clothing. He stood up, slowly, and carefully, and let the fear take over, his hands and arms shaking furiously, as he stared at Marini's still form.

Now what?

He thought to himself, as he stared down at his shaking hands. I can't call the police, I mean, I'm at the damn station, and no one will believe that Enrico Marini, captain of the Bravo team, just raped me... besides, I'm a guy... they'll probably accuse me of being gay... if they don't already think that... Brad sighed to himself again and slowly, headed out of the locker room, and subsequently out of the station.