This is one of the flashback chapters that will delve into Jason's past. As usual the playlist for this chapter can be found on my profile page, no need to listen to it, but you are most definitely missing out if you don't.
June, 2065
The group of teenagers were sitting on the hood of their cars, watching as the truck came flying over the hill like some bat out of hell. Time seemed to slow down for those few seconds it took for the truck to touch back down on the ground, as it did so the driver pulled the hand brake and sent the truck into a spin, kicking up mud in every direction and redecorating the teenagers and the cars they were sitting on. The truck slid to a stop next to the cars; the front end facing the hill it had just come off of. The windows rolled down and filling the dirt clearing with loud rock music.
The driver leaned his head out the window and addressed one of the mud splattered girls, "looking good sugar," he winked.
The girl flipped him the finger and the driver laughed.
"Hey Jason! Where the hell is Johnny?" asked one of the guys, reaching into a cooler and tossing the driver a beer.
Jason caught the bottle and popped the cap, "Johnny's gonna be a while, he thought he could cut me off by taking a shortcut through the forest; last I saw him he had a branch through his windshield and was screaming something about his parents murdering him and burying the body in the garden."
A couple of people choked on their beer, coughing it up laughing.
"Oh Johnny, Johnny, Johnny," lamented one of the gang, shaking their head.
Jason raised his bottle into the air, "Senior Year!" he shouted "We kicked its fucking ass!"
The group all responded with a resounding, "WOOOO!"
Jason took deep drink from his bottle allowing the rich amber liquid to warm a path down his throat.
"Alright, Alright! Everyone shut the hell up!" shouted of the guys signaling the gang to be quiet.
The young man raised his bottle into the air "Here's to Jason! Craziest bastard you'll ever meet, and also the best friend a guy could ask for; good luck at Columbia buddy,"
The group gave another woo, and Jason grinned, he was a little embarrassed by the public display of man love, but it was graduation so he let it slide.
"Thanks Bro," he said.
"You're welcome, and one more thing, when you graduate and become some big balls high powered lawyer just remember to throw a few pro-bono cases this way, because I'm pretty damn positive some people in this group are gonna be needing the get out of jail free cards."
Jason laughed but was cut off from retorting by the blaring sirens of approaching police cars.
"Sooner rather than later apparently," cursed the guy.
"In the cars! NOW!"
Some of the gang jumped into the back of Jason's truck and pounded on the roof of the cab.
"Get us the hell out of here!"
Jason spun the wheels and took off for the back gate of the quarry; praying to God the cops hadn't already sent a patrol car to catch any escaping trespassers. He really didn't feel like taking any shit from his mom about jeopardizing his place at an Ivy League school and giving his father's political opponents yet more ammo to throw at him.
"Shit!"
Sure enough a police cruiser was waiting for Jason right as he came around the bend. Jason slammed on brakes and proceeded to bang his head on the steering wheel.
"What the hell are you doing? KEEP GOING!" shouted one of the guys in the back.
"Are you fucking retarded!" snapped Jason.
"I'm not getting into a high speed chase; besides if the police have to come get you they generally bring an ass whooping along with them."
Jason turned to face the group in the back of his truck, "As your future lawyer I strongly advise all of you to shut the fuck up and let me do the talking."
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Marcus Wolfe had been listening to the Russian Ambassador rant for the past half an hour straight on how his country was being screwed out of the world's remaining pockets of oil and how the United States and the European Commonwealth were a bunch greedy self serving bastards who deserved to be nuked back to the stone age. The room and its 130 occupants were both getting hotter as the man's ranting continued to degenerate into a long "fuck you" speech. Marcus decided he should try to head it off before the room turned into World War 3.
Marcus rose from his seat, "Forgive me, honorable ambassador for this interruption, but I believe you have touched on an issue very close to home for everyone in the room, if it is alright with you I would like to take a few moments to address it." he said speaking into his microphone.
The Russian Ambassador nodded his head, slightly annoyed for having been derailed mid rant.
Marcus nodded his thanks then addressed the rest of the room, "Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow representatives of humanity; I know things are bad for everyone in this room. The riots, the famine, the wars, the energy shortages; they are tearing our civilization apart. And I know that it seems like things are only headed downhill from here, and that the only way to salvage anything for your respective countries is to take it now before someone else can beat you to it. But that is not a workable solution, and I'm pretty damn sure everyone in this room knows it."
Marcus sighed, "People, humanity is sitting on the brink and the right push can send us all tumbling over the edge and into darkness."
Marcus paused for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, "We've all heard the talk of disbanding the United Nations, so let's not waste the energy pretending we haven't."
A storm of muttering spread throughout the room, but Marcus raised his hands and waited for things to calm down again.
"At times like this, even though it may be difficult, the only way for humanity to survive as a species worth saving is to work together. Because together, and I do not exaggerate, there is nothing we cannot accomplish. The combined brain power in this room alone can work miracles, I know this because I have seen it, time and again. When a ruthless dictator starts committing mass murder, who is there to knock his ass off the throne? When a country is dying of starvation, who is there to organize food shipments? When a plague is spreading through an entire continent, who is there waiting and ready to hand out the vaccines?"
"All the problems we have today we've had before, the only difference between now and then, is that now we're actually considering rolling over and giving up,"
Marcus let his words resonate with the room for a few seconds before he continued, "Well fuck that," he said, saying the F word on a live UN broadcast for the first time in history.
If the world wasn't paying attention before it sure as Hell was now.
"WE WILL NOT GIVE UP! NOT NOW NOT EVER!" He roared into his microphone.
"And if some politician wants to disband us, he's gonna be doing it over my cold…dead…body, because as long I'm breathing, I'm not going anywhere, and neither is anyone else!"
The room erupted into cheers and applause and in that moment, the next American Hero was born.
Two men were standing on a balcony watching as the man finished his speech.
"You know Chase, I do believe that man is going to be a problem for us," said one of the two men, a man dressed in a black suit.
Colonel Constantine Chase shook his head, "Marcus and I served together for two years in Korea; he bleeds red white and blue."
The Man in Black smirked, "Then I would get a handle on him, and quick, because if not…well, you know how that story ends," said the man walking away.
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Jason sat waiting in the jail cell for the better part of three hours before his mother had decided he had "sweated enough" and came to bail him out and take him home. She then preceded to silent treatment his ass into the ground for the 45 minutes it took for them to get from the police station to the house. Upon rolling up the driveway however she switched up her tactics and Jason felt the sting of a surprisingly strong slap on the back of his head.
"I'm sorry; did I mistakenly raise you to become the World's Smartest Dumbass?" she demanded, in her South Boston accent.
"No, Ma," muttered Jason.
"You're sure now?" asked his mother, "Because it seems to me that a kid who was smart enough to get into Columbia, yet dumb enough to risk screwing it all up with street racing and criminal trespassing, would in fact be the World's Smartest Dumbass."
"Ma! The guys and I were just having a little fun; everyone is making it into some big fucking deal!"
Jason felt another sting on the back of his head, this one considerably more painful; his mother had a God given talent for slapping the shit out of him.
"Watch you're god damn mouth!" she warned.
Jason and his mom sat in silence for the next few minutes, from the look of fury on his mother's face Jason assumed she was contemplating child murder. Finally she relaxed enough to wave him inside. Jason couldn't get out of the car fast enough.
Walking through the front door however, he found his older sister waiting for him with a triumphant grin on her face. Jason dearly wished NYU would have kept her for the summer; he would have even paid them if that was what it took.
"Well goodness me! I'm in the presence of the nation's most notorious outlaw! Please Mr. Bad Ass Criminal, please, don't hurt me!" exclaimed his sister in a mock distressed tone.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't want to risk further brain damage," replied Jason walking into the kitchen.
Jason opened up the fridge and looked for something to eat, all that was in there was Mom's Meatloaf Surprise; a dish which lead to him being hospitalized when he was eight. Jason assumed his mom decided to cook it up again to punish him further. He closed the fridge, deciding he would rather go to bed hungry.
Before he could take three steps toward his room however he heard the sound of another car pulling into the driveway and couldn't stop himself from groaning as his dad walked through the front door.
Marcus hung his coat and hat on the hook by the door then turned to face his son.
"So," he said, "I guess we need to talk,"
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Marcus had just wrapped up an hour long shouting match with his son and now frankly was in need of a very strong drink.
"What a fucking day," he grumbled walking over to his liquor cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Jim Beam Black. Marcus grabbed a glass from the top shelf and poured a healthy amount of the dark liquid into it, then sat down in his chair and sipped at the drink while trying to figure out when exactly his life had become so god damn complicated.
He wasn't really all that upset with Jason; well sure he was pissed off, and had even thought about strangling the kid a couple times on the way home after his wife had called and told him the wonderful news. But he was a kid and kids fucked up; it was the only way they learned anything meaningful from life. Marcus just needed Jason to believe that he would violently murder him if he ever tried anything that stupid again, else the meaningful lesson would get a whole lot less meaningful.
And while Jason would always be his kid, Marcus wouldn't be able to call him one for much longer. Jason was entering that period of his life where he was transitioning from moody pain in the ass teenager to a full grown man, and his decisions in these next few years would shape the kind of man he would become.
But unlike most every other parent on the planet Marcus wasn't worried about how his son would turn out; Jason was intelligent, charismatic, and above all had a good heart. Whatever he ultimately decided to do with his life Marcus knew his son would make him proud. Now his daughter Tanya on the other hand…well let's just says Marcus hadn't had an honest to god goodnight's sleep since that girl turned 15.
Marcus took another sip from his drink. The news would be running the story of Marcus's outburst at the UN summit right about now and by morning he would be the latest 15 minute celebrity, though if he couldn't stop the United Nations from disbanding he would be forgotten before the month was out. When the President had selected Marcus as the next United States Ambassador to the UN he had assumed Marcus would just sit quietly in the corner while the government did everything it could to dismantle the last, best, hope for humanity; he was dead fucking wrong.
If the government wanted to start invading every country that didn't bow down to them quickly enough then they would have to go through the world courts to do it. Some people thought that made him a traitor, but those people could fuck off and die. He loved his country and he wasn't about to let it become the next bully on the international playground.
There was a knock at the door forcing Marcus to sigh and put his drink down in order to go answer it.
An old face was standing on Marcus's porch when he looked through the eye hole to find out who had disturbed his brooding.
"Chase?" asked Marcus in total surprise as he opened the door.
"Hello Marcus," said Chase in his gruff voice
Marcus laughed, "Jesus, what's it been? Five? Six years?"
"About that," replied Chase in the same gruff deadpan voice.
"Still the same humorless son of a bitch as always I see," said Marcus with a smirk, "Come on in I'll pour you a drink,"
Chase stepped through the door and closed it behind him.
"Single malt scotch, aged 12 years if I remember correctly," said Marcus heading over to his liquor cabinet
"What can I say I'm a creature of habit," replied Chase with a smile.
"Can't stand the shit myself, too smooth, no real taste or texture to it. Bourbon on the other hand, now there's a man's drink," said Marcus picking up the bottle of Jim Beam and filling another glass.
"Rich, smokey, and best of all made in America, figure a right wing lunatic like you ought to appreciate that," said Marcus handing Chase the glass.
Chase took the glass, "I like what I like. I also drive a BMW if you want to give me shit about that too."
Marcus laughed, "Take a seat," he said gesturing towards the sitting room.
Chase and Marcus sat down and sipped their drinks for a while before talking.
"So why the late night visit?" asked Marcus swirling the contents of his drink, "Not that I don't already know of course, I just want to hear you say it aloud,"
Chase raised an eyebrow, "An old friend decides to pay you a visit out of the blue and you suspect an ulterior motive? Glad to see old age hasn't left you suspicious and paranoid."
Marcus grinned, "Fuck you too, now how about you tell me what you're doing here while I'm still sober," said Marcus, eyeing the diminishing amount of whiskey in his glass.
Chase chuckled, "Fine, you caught me; the higher ups sent me down here to try and do a little suicide prevention; you know, before you completely set your career on fire and run into the ground."
Marcus smiled, "I'm touched," he said, taking another drink from his glass, sobriety was starting to become a lot less appealing.
Chase sighed, "Come on Marcus, what the hell are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that given the fact that humanity sets on the god damned precipice of Armageddon now might not be the best time to be disbanding the only organization in the world that can keep the mushroom clouds from springing up."
Chase raised an eyebrow, "Don't you think you're being a little melodramatic?"
Marcus smiled back politely, "Chase, I'm not an idiot, so don't treat me like one; it makes you look like a jackass."
Chase nodded, "Fair enough, so allow me to ask you a question person who is not an idiot."
"Go right ahead person who is still a jackass," replied Marcus casually.
"If we don't get our hands on some oil, then how do you expect to keep the lights on, the factories operating, and the American people employed?"
Marcus sighed, "You and I both know that the technology is only six or seven years away at most, and if we cut back on the oil and work with the global community we could probably cut that time frame in half."
"Jesus Christ you're naïve you know that!" snapped Chase.
"What you're talking about is impossible! No one will ever work together! If we don't go for the oil now someone else will just beat us to it! And then we'll really be fucked."
"You know," replied Marcus, "Traditionally speaking war is supposed to be an option of last resort, as in not something you engage in just because you don't like what the other guy is saying. So far that's all it is, talk, you start invading people it becomes something else entirely"
"Then learn to adapt! Traditions change overtime; you think the other sides aren't tired of talking too? The war is coming Marcus, all the talk in the world isn't going to change that, only question left is whose going to land the first blow."
Marcus gave Chase a cold smile, "You need to think Chase, think real long and hard about where that road is going to end,"
"I have," stated Chase grimly.
"THEN THINK AGAIN!" roared Marcus slamming his glass down on the table.
"Because I can guarantee that if you start down this path it's not going to be some fairy tale ending at the end of the road, it's going to be a fucking horror show, the only saving grace being, there probably won't be many people left alive to see it,"
Chase and Marcus stared at each other for a long time.
"I'm never going to convince you to see reason am I?" asked Chase softly.
"Not your version of reason, no" replied Marcus, picking up his glass again.
Chase sighed and ran his hands through his hair, "Yeah, well I wish to God I could."
"Goodbye Marcus," said Chase, heading for the door.
"See you around Chase," Marcus called after him.
Chase exited Marcus's house in a state of deep depression; he hadn't wanted it to go this way and the thought of what he had to do now made him sick to his stomach, but Marcus had made it clear he would not be moved, and the man stood between the United States and its need to survive. Marcus had to know somewhere in the back of his mind how that story would end.
Chase opened the door of the car that had been waiting for him outside the house and slipped into the passenger seat.
"Did you talk some sense into your old friend?" asked the Man in Black, who was sitting behind the wheel.
"Marcus believes in his gut that his stance is the right one; nothing I say is going to make him budge."
"Well, you know what has to be done then. If you want I can put together the op myself, there's no need for you to see the rest of this through."
"No," stated Chase firmly, "Murder is murder. My conscience isn't going to be clear on this no matter who pulls the trigger. So I might as well make sure this gets done the right way."
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Marcus and his wife were laughing as they left the restaurant.
"So the guy says to the bartender, he still eats everything in sight but ever since he ate that damn cue ball he measures everything first!" finished Marcus, delivering the punch line.
His wife, Angie, snorted with laughter as she climbed into the passenger seat of the car.
"The Ambassador for Germany told me that one, believe it or not," laughed Marcus putting the keys in the ignition.
"You and your work buddies," winked Angie.
Marcus grinned, "It's good to get out once and a while isn't it? And to think once Jason leaves for college we'll have that entire house all to ourselves…whatever will we do?" grinned Marcus.
His wife punched him lightly on the shoulder, "Don't be getting ahead of yourself buddy,"
Marcus chuckled as he took the car out of park, "Jee and here I thought the whole reason you locked this Lone Wolfe down was so that you could ravage me at will,"
Angie burst out laughing, "Yeah, I locked you down; I must have just imagined the three months of you showing up at the hospital with roses, attempting to wear me down enough to go on a date with you."
"Whatever you say dear,"
Angie hit him again, this time not so playfully.
Marcus put an arm around her shoulders, "Nah, I know I married up, I just try to downplay it because you know, my ego is so delicate and all"
"Smooth recovery,"
"I know," said Marcus cockily.
Angie laughed, "Are you actively trying to prevent getting laid tonight?"
"I'm banking a lot on my animal magnetism," explained Marcus.
"And that's strike three, thanks for playing, and enjoy the cold shower when we get home," replied his wife coldly.
"Oh come on! That was funny!"
Angie gave him a long look, "Well, I suppose I could take pity on you, but it's going to take a lot of groveling."
Marcus knew Angie was setting him up but he couldn't resist.
"Jee Angie I never knew you were in to that sort of thing," he winked.
Angie smiled, "On second thought try again tomorrow."
Marcus groaned.
"You know technically speaking midnight is tomorrow,"
Angie smirked, "Not by my definition."
I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut, thought Marcus.
Marcus's next comment was derailed as he entered the next intersection and a truck came out of nowhere, slamming into the side of his car and sending it into a wild spin that ended with it upside down in the middle of the street.
Marcus tasted blood, "Angie.."
"Angie?" Marcus asked looking for his wife.
Turning his head to the right he found her still locked into her seat, staring straight ahead, blood running down her head with a blank expression on her face.
"ANGIE!" Marcus shouted, but she didn't move or even acted like she had heard him at all.
Marcus reached up and clicked his seatbelt, releasing it and dropping two feet onto what had been the ceiling of his car. Marcus groaned but immediately moved towards his wife, taking her head in his hands and looking into her eyes, they were open but she wasn't looking back.
"ANGIE!"
Marcus released her from her seatbelt and kicked out the passenger door, dragging her body out and onto the street. Marcus got to his feet and carried her a safe distance away from the now smoking vehicle; setting her down he checked for a pulse…nothing.
"No! Not happening! You're staying right here Angie! Do you hear me!"
Marcus started doing compressions on her chest and breathing into her mouth every few seconds, after half a minute he checked for a pulse again…nothing.
"God damn it fight!" Marcus started pounding on her heart with a fist, she wasn't dead; he wouldn't let her be.
Marcus spared a glance at the truck that had hit him; the driver was sitting in his seat watching him with cold eyes, for a second Marcus didn't understand…then it clicked.
"I'll be back Baby," he whispered to his wife.
Marcus made a dash for his car and reached into his glove compartment, pulling out a laser pistol. Marcus then snuck around the side of the smoking car; walking up to the driver side door of the truck he pulled the pistol on the driver.
"Where's your back up asshole?" growled Marcus.
The driver's face registered shock and his hands reached for his waist; Marcus pointed the pistol through the window and shot him in the leg in an area dangerously close to his crotch.
"Christ!" screamed the driver.
"Do not fuck with me; you didn't plan this alone, your buddies are on the way, what I need to know is when will they be here?"
Marcus heard the whirling blades of an approaching vertibird and the driver chuckled despite his pain.
"They'll be arriving shortly," said the driver grinning.
Marcus shot him in the head, then whirled the laser pistol towards the approaching vertibird and took aim at the fuel tank, but before he could squeeze off a shot he saw the flash of a sniper rifle from the side of the chopper and then felt the bullet rip into his shoulder; dropping the pistol from his hand and knocking him to the ground. The vertibird landed and Marcus tried reaching for the pistol with his other hand but someone dressed in Army camo kicked it away. After that the butt of a rifle collided with Marcus's forehead and all he saw was black.
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Ice cold water splashed over Marcus's face.
"Wake up Marcus," said a voice.
Marcus's eyes fluttered open to find himself strapped to a chair with his old buddy Colonel Constantine Chase standing right in front of him.
Marcus thrashed against his restraints, "Where's my wife you piece of shit!"
Chase sighed, "The operation didn't go as planned, your car was supposed to be knocked off the road and we were supposed to grab you and throw you in the vertibird; your wife was going to be left alive…but that fucking idiot…he…he hit your car at wrong angle and…I'm sorry Marcus, I really truly am."
"I'LL KILL YOU SON OF A BITCH!" roared Marcus thrashing against the ropes tying him to the chair.
"You want to blame someone for her death look in the mirror! You did this! Not me!"
Marcus narrowed his eyes, "So what are you going to do Chase? Kill me now is that it? Go right ahead, you'll make the martyr this cause needs to send monsters like you back where they belong; in the pages of American History, as one of the many black stains this country has had to endure."
Chase sighed, "That's not how it's going to happen; we're commandos Marcus, in case you forgot we plan for every single contingency. You want to know how this is going to play out? Tomorrow the news is going to run with the story of how the United States Ambassador and his wife were murdered by a communist insurgent group. Sometime in the morning the Pentagon will receive a call from one of the terrorist groups currently on their Top 10 list claiming responsibility for this horrible atrocity and letting them know where to find the bodies. This will provide just the spark the country needs to realize how obsolete the United Nations has become. Then in about two months from now the United States will announce that we have laid claim to the last of the oil reserves in the South Pacific to protect against the growing communist threat. At that point the war will have begun; a war that will end in our complete victory over China and establish ourselves as the only superpower in the world."
"So take solace in the fact that your death will have meaning, even if your life never did."
Marcus gave Chase a sad smile, "You know Chase…I almost pity you, I do. Because you think this is the last horrible thing you will ever have to do to serve your version of the 'greater good' but it's not, not by a long shot. You're going to keep doing evil things and you're going to keep telling yourself that you had no other choice, but eventually a day is going to come, 10 maybe 20 years down the line, and you'll wake up one morning and take a good hard look at your life and the decisions you've made. When that day comes around you're going to have an epiphany, a realization that everything you've ever done for the 'greater good' has only lead to more death and suffering for everyone around you, and in that moment you will hate yourself more than I ever could."
Chase pulled a pistol and pointed it at Marcus's head, "See you around Marcus."
Marcus gave his old friend a dark smile, "When you get down to hell...I'll be waiting for you."
Chase paused for a second, and swallowed; this wasn't his first execution, it wasn't even the first time he had to kill a friend, what was a first was the smile. People aren't supposed to smile when you're about to kill them...it was...unsettling. Chase pulled the trigger.
BANG
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The FBI agent sat down in the Wolfes' living room; he had spoken in a soft and kind tone as he informed Jason and Tanya of the demise of their parents as if he could lessen the impact of the news with the sound of his voice. Tanya was sobbing uncontrollably into the shoulder of the councilor who had accompanied the agent. But Jason on the other hand was utterly quiet…the kind of quiet that was beginning to set the agent on edge; he had delivered this kind of news before and had found that people had all manner of coping mechanisms, a lot of people were rendered silent, having shut down their emotions until they were strong enough to process them. However one look into Jason's eyes and all the rage that resided within told him that was not what Jason was doing. Jason was thinking, and whatever thoughts were running through that kid's mind were not of the sad and accepting sort; they were more of the track down and slowly kill the people who had just shattered his world sort.
Jason rose to his feet and went for the front door.
"Jason?" asked Tanya, not wanting the only immediate family she had left to leave her alone in a room of strangers.
Jason acted as if he hadn't heard her and opened the door and left. He got into his truck and spun out of the driveway heading for a place at the center of town he must have drove past a thousand times, but never actually considered going in; not until now.
He pulled into the parking lot and walked into the Army Recruiter's office and approached the desk.
"Sign me up," said Jason in a deadpan voice.
The recruiter smiled, 'Want to do your part to help out Uncle Sam, huh?"
Jason looked into the man's eyes; he looked like he already knew what Jason's answer would be, as if he'd heard the same one over and over again "Yes sir, we all gotta do our part," "Yes sir, I want to fight for democracy," It was time this guy heard something new.
"I could give a shit about Uncle Sam, all I want to do is march over to China, and let them know all about what's on my mind," stated Jason coldly.
The recruiter gave Jason a wary look, "Okay...sign on the dotted line."
Author's Note:
Alright a few things I should clarify. Chase and the Man in Black are indeed Enclave, Jason doesn't know how his parents really died, and I am aware there are a few discrepancies in the Fallout Timeline in this chapter; just try to keep in mind this is a slightly alternate alternate universe so events are going to be a little different.