Notes: Look, we're finally getting somewhere! :D
This may be my last chapter for a while. Still having problems with this bloody piece of machinery.
And I must tell you this: I have problems writing the beginning of a story. Yeah, I always write in the order of middle, end, beginning. I already have a few chapters of the middle scribbled down. For some reason I always do that. Eeep. I'm trying to hard to write in order now and its driving me crazy. X_x
Yeeeeeeah. So any ways, this chapter is worse than the others, it's mostly conversation, and I DESPISE writing convos. I just suck at it. This is to just let you know before hand. I had to struggle with each sentence I swear. Tell me how I did PLEASE. I need some reassurance before I can continue hehe.
To DreamThief: Yeah I prefer Billy WAY over Steve. At least Billy seems mature enough, and handles himself well despite Mr. Nut who overreacts over every little thing. Maybe I'm being harsh on Steve, I don't know but gah he's a horrible character. Guess he's to ga--err femmy for my tastes. Sorry Steve fans. As for Billy, I think he's my favorite character at the moment. : )
Questions or comments: try catching me on Yahoo (I warn you now that I forget to log in half the time. You may just catch me on a good day.) cannibal_jello@yahoo.com. I'd give my MSN IM s/n out but its kinda private. Talk to me over yahoo, and if ya don't freak me out I'll add you.
And hey, this chapters a little longer (I think).
With a jerk of metal from beneath the waste band of his jeans, the shining metal of Billy's 9mm reflects the suns light. The deadly weapons mark is aimed directly at Mr. Trent's chest.
Click.
"I don't know who or what you think you are, but let's get one thing straight: I'm not interested in your intents, ok? And I don't feel the need to stay any longer. So if you'd please tell your driver to bring the vehicle to a stop, I'd be more than happy to leave." Billy growled, studying the man. His posture hadn't changed a fraction. Come to think of it, neither had his eyes; the man still seemed so happy.
Why? He's locked in the car with a man whose been charged with the murder of 23 people—what in the hell does he have to be happy about? This is no ordinary man I'm dealing with…
"Mr. Coen, I recommend that you holster your weapon. I am no threat to you." Mr. Trent says, his musical voice as low and calm as his mutual expression.
"Oh, really?" The younger one asks warily, narrowing his eyes. This man didn't seem threatening but still…
"Yes. I'm…a friend to those like you." He replied, blind to the gun aimed at his chest. Trent gazed at him impassively, his eyes glittering with a cool self-assurance that almost frightened Billy. It was as if he either did care…
…Or he's a complete nut. Yep, this guy isn't the brightest crayon in the box.
But he was bright, in fact. Only a completely arrogant one could mistake the pure intelligence behind the amused expression. In his experience, Billy believed that the ones who laughed were the most dangerous. And at least partially insane.
"Like me?" Billy wondered aloud, weapon lowering to his side slowly.
"I just want you to trust me." The other states simply, running a hand through his short black hair.
"Why should I?" He challenges, sliding his gun back into hiding.
"You'll know soon enough."
There was a moment of silence; the only sound being that of the limousine's wheels riding over the hard road of gravel that paved the winding forest road. It was a road that seemed to spread out forever, or at least one longer than Billy felt comfortable following. That is now, actually. He would have found the serene lush forest comforting at any other time, with the birds twittering in the trees above. But now, now there was nothing but the man who sat across from him.
The quiet was killing him.
"Mr. Trent—"
"Just Trent," The man interrupted, motioning for his guest to continue. Billy hesitated at first, but plunged forward soon enough.
"If you haven't all ready noticed, I'm kinda in a tight place in my life right now and I don't need your fucking riddles to make it any worse. You can just take your shit and go find someone else to go do your work—whatever it is."
Trent stared at him for a short moment and sighed. "Ah, you see, that may be a little hard to do. Not everyone is as eligible as you, Mr. Coen. They haven't seen nor lived through what you have…"
"Then tell me, what exactly do you want me to do?" Billy questioned, crossing his arms against his chest tightly and in a somewhat arrogant matter.
"Help us see to the eradication of Umbrella."
"Us?" Billy repeated. A hint or sarcasm came from his mouth, "You and what army?"
"Oh, no army Mr. Coen. Just a small handful of soldiers that are on the run from life just as you are. Except they have found something useful to accomplish in their lives, a concrete goal, and have fought for the people, the innocents who are being murdered by the thousands beneath Umbrellas hands." A thoughtful pause but Trent continued. "Lieutenant, I know that's what you despise most, to see innocent ones die. Mothers, children, men who have served the country as you have. You know first hand what a horror that is, am I right?" Billy nodded numbly, Trent's dark eyes locked on him. And for a moment those dark eyes were laced with sympathy, telling Billy that he knew understood. Billy felt deeply uneasy.
"But you can finally do something to prevent this—"
Now it was Billy's turn to interrupt.
"No, you're wrong. How can I stop a whole multibillion-dollar company when I couldn't even stop three men? It would be suicide. I'm not as strong as you believe me to be." Billy's own words tore at his flesh like fire, singeing and melting. He began again, a tone of interest dripping into his words. "Besides, what good could a 'handful of soldiers' do? I want to know more, what are their backgrounds like? What experiences to they have?"
Trent chuckled slightly, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in his clothing. His eyes did, indeed see more that Billy's ever could.
"Ah, the typical marine. Wanting to know all the facts, so on and so forth. Keep this in mind Lieutenant, that I will never give you all of the facts like you demand. It is necessary that you put the pieces together yourself. What I can tell you is little: they have encountered what you have before and maybe worse. But all of them have potential. Just as you do."
Billy sat there under Trent's relentless gaze, feeling his anger boil away to nothing. The man was right and he knew it. There was nothing that Billy could say; his throat seemed to be lined with cement.
Reaching forward, Trent took hold of his trench coat and slid a pale hand into one of the many pockets. While Billy watched tensely, he withdrew a large manila envelope.
"Consider this a little gift from me to you." He paused as Billy gingerly reached for the package and took it into his hands before he continued. "If you wisely come to the decision that you will except my offer, well, let's just say that you will need all the help that you can get." Billy glanced up from the paper he had received and gave Trent a questioning glance before the vehicle slowed to a halt. Sometime during their long conversation, Billy hadn't been aware that they had entered the city.
"Ah and so our time together must end…" Trent flashed a smile that quickly melted away beneath his serious expression. All twinkle had vanished from his dark eyes. "But I assure you, Mr. Coen, that you're journey has not." Billy jumped slightly as the door at his side was opened, fresh air and bright light invading the dark innards of the limousine. The driver stood outside, holding the door. Past that stood a grand building, the roof piercing the sky. A hotel it was, and a very, very expensive one at that.
"Holy sh—" Billy began, looking at Trent who sat the impassively.
"Nice isn't it? I hope you enjoy your stay. Everything is set up, the bills are paid in advance, and all paperwork is finished. And I also assume you know how to use a key…?" Trent mused, nodding towards the keycard that is offered to Billy.
"Err, yeah…thanks." He replies oddly, taking the warm plastic from the others grasp. Nimbly, he slid it into his back pocket. With that, he steps out of the car, suddenly feeling as if he had been awoken from a dream.
"I hope you consider my offer Lieutenant," That smooth voice says at his back. "I will contact you when the time is right. I do hope you know your answer by then."
No dream, this is reality. Or is it?
"Oh, and one more thing Mr. Coen," His friend begins once more, humor evident in his low voice. "I would refrain from using the name Edward Winston. It doesn't suit you." A smirk forms on Billy's lips.
"Well then what does Trent?" He chuckles as a mean of comeback. But he receives no answer.
"Trent?" Billy repeats, looking back.
Trent was gone.