JACK KRAUSER
"Fuck… That's never happened before." Krauser muttered, slumping down into the alley, blood dripping from his arms and chest. His shirt was tattered from the mutation and injuries, blood spattered and looking very much like he was an extra from a horror movie.
He had been working for Wesker for one year now–and it seemed their opposition was getting wise. He had gone to slaughter a warehouse to steal a virus sample of T-Abyss 2 for him, but found that damn near everyone in the place was equipped with anti B.O.W. weaponry. A special anti B.O.W. round had hit him directly and forced him out of his mutation–very painfully so–and he had to flee.
Jack Krauser never fled. He detested the very idea of it.
He grit his teeth, left arm hanging limply at his side, throbbing with a painful fire as the old injury was inflamed. He was too injured and too far from the rendezvous point. He needed some attention now.
He groaned, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall of the alley. He stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to pick himself back up to prepare to make it to the rendezvous point before his assailants found him.
Footsteps.
Krauser braced himself, using his right arm to take a large knife from his belt. He may not be able to mutate, but he could still hold his own as a man.
Oh.
It was just a civvy. A young man with a short beard and curly black hair, pale skinned and using a cane. He held a few bags of groceries in his free hand, looking a little frightened of the scene before him. What the hell was someone like that doing cutting through the allies?
"Are you alright?!" The man called out, brown eyes brimming with concern. "What happened to you?" He came closer, his cane click-clicking on the ground.
Krauser saw his chance. He heaved himself up, looming over the younger man. He held up his knife in one shaky fist. "You will give me first aid, boy. Food, water. Rations. Immediately."
The man looked up at Krauser, flinching a little, but seeming mostly unaffected. "I can get you that. But what happened to you? You're all alone."
Krauser snorted. This boy was worried about all the wrong things, wasn't he.
"It doesn't matter to you. You will take me now."
"I don't live far from here. I take shortcuts through these allies, so it'll be faster." He tapped his cane anxiously against the pavement. "My name is Tomas."
Krauser leered at him. "Get moving."
Tomas raised an eyebrow at him. "Big words for someone who needs so much help."
Krauser scowled, and leaned forward to yank the bags from the man's free hand is his own working hand.
"Hey!" Tomas cried, reaching back out for the groceries.
"You'll move faster if you aren't lugging these around." Krauser leered. "Now like I said, get moving." The groceries were light, but still tugged at him and made his injured muscles scream. He wouldn't dare let it show though. He needed to keep the upper hand.
"If you say so…" Tomas muttered, shaking his head. "But you're in no condition to be carrying anything." Krauser didn't say anything, so the young man just shook out his curls and sighed. "Okay. Follow me."
Krauser grunted, following Tomas to his apartment. The young man was a strange little fellow for sure–but at this point, he was so delirious from pain that he couldn't question it too much. He just needed to get his bleeding under control.
XXX
TOMAS WILKIN
Tomas' muscles ached terribly, but he hobbled along as quickly as he could. It was kind of a shock to find someone in such a bad state, and he probably should've been questioning why he was in such a bad state, but his mind had already settled into emergency mode.
They weren't too far from his apartment now. Just one more block.
The man didn't speak much or tell Tomas his name. But by the look of his military style fatigues, he seemed like someone important. Maybe someone had tried to assassinate him? Maybe he was some important political figure?
It was intriguing, but first he needed to get the man some antiseptic and a bit of water. He glanced back at the intimidating muscle-bound man and frowned. Maybe a little more than antiseptic.
XXX
The man had taken antiseptic, bandages, and needle and thread with him and locked himself in the bathroom while repaired his wounds and picked the obvious shrapnel out of his arms, not a single sound echoing from the small space. Tomas waited outside the door, offering help about every five minutes. It was the least he could do, after all. The man ignored him, of course.
Tomas decided to prepare a new shirt for him–while the man was taller and full of muscles, Tomas was shorter and fatter. One of his oversized blue t-shirts he wore to bed would do the trick and suit the mystery badass nicely. He held it in one arm, ready for when the man would come out.
"I have a shirt for you." He called. "It might be a little baggy, but it'll work."
"Good." The first and only response Tomas had heard so far. Promising!
Soon, the mystery man emerged, yanking the shirt from Tomas' hands. He swiftly pulled it over his head. Tomas didn't get a good look at the chest and abdominal wounds, but the man already had a massive scar there–and it looked like he had stitched up a few new ones.
"Is your arm okay?" Tomas asked, voice gentle.
The man grunted. "It was like this before the fight." He nodded his head towards his left arm, which hung limply at his side. "Just a little inflamed." The man seemed calmer now, a little relaxed now that he had treated his wounds.
"You said your rendezvous point was far away… A little stitching and antiseptic can't do magic. Why don't you rest here for awhile? You can come sit on the couch." Tomas said evenly.
The man raised an eyebrow, looking incredulous. "Are you serious? You don't even know me, boy."
"Well… I'm older than I look, number one. I'm thirty two. Number two, I have the room to spare and you look like you seriously got hurt. Clearly someone was trying to hurt you–nobody is going to think to look here." He peered into the bathroom, right at the bloody, tattered shirt on the floor. "You need to rest."
The man stared at him for a moment, then sneered, pushing past him towards the living room. "Your name was Tomas, right? You can call me…Krauser."
Now they were getting somewhere!
Krauser settled onto the couch, groaning softly as he leaned his head against the plush furniture. "So. Why are you being so helpful? Some ulterior motive?"
The man was on the defensive. He definitely had things to hide.
Tomas shook his head, settling into the armchair opposite of Krauser. "No. I just like to help."
"And why is that?" Krauser leaned forward, that trademark sneer on his face curling his upper lip.
"No real reason. I've managed on my own for a long time, after my parents died during an Umbrella operation. I guess I just don't want people to struggle the way I do. You could've bled out in the alley, and we can't have that." Tomas smiled gently.
Krauser leaned back, face twisting in pain. Tomas got the idea that showing any sort of pity for the man would earn him a few knuckles to the face though, so he kept the more immediate concerns to himself. Krauser swallowed hard and finally spoke. "Sure. I'll take your offer then. I'll stay here for a little while to recover, and then I'll make my way to the rendezvous."
"So who are you affiliated with?" Tomas asked, his voice still effortlessly soft. "The army?"
Krauser laughed. "Something like that, boy."
"Why don't I get us something to eat?" Tomas heaved himself to his feet, swaying a little once he stood up. "Maybe that can help you feel better."
"Whatever you say." The man grunted unhelpfully.
XXX
Tomas figured an army-style guy would appreciate something all-American. And large portions–with muscles that big, he imagined Krauser ate an awful lot. He peered through the fridge, searching for just the right short-notice meal when… A-ha! Hot dogs. That would be perfect.
Tomas ripped open the package with his teeth, deciding to pan-fry the whole thing. He warmed up some buns in the oven while he flipped the dogs, grabbing some ketchup from the fridge door. He considered mustard, but decided to play it safe.
He heard rustling in the living room, figuring that Krauser was having a look around. Not that there was much to see, other than a few old posters and a dusty GameCube.
When Tomas was finished cooking, he made plates with two hot dogs each. He smiled to himself–even though the meal was simple, he was steadfast that Krauser would appreciate it. He grabbed a two beers and balanced them on his hip, figuring they could both do with a bit of loosening.
He brought it out to his mystery guest, who's eyes unwittingly zeroed in on the sight. Looks like hot dogs were a winner! "Beer?" Tomas held out the cold can of Red Krystal beer out. Krauser didn't hesitate, just took the can and cracked it open. He grabbed the plate of hot dogs and began scarfing them down without abandon, not uttering a single word.
That was fine by Tomas. Him eagerly eating despite his injuries was more than enough thanks.
"More?" Krauser finally said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
Tomas obliged, filling up the large plate with the rest of the dogs. Once he brings it back, he begins inhaling them until they're all gone. He leans back with the beer, one hand sleepily over his stomach, looking satisfied.
Tomas finishes up his second hot dog and smiles. "So… Wanna try one more time? Who are you?"
Krauser's lips set in a thin, straight line. "Nobody important." He grunts.
The man was a locked chest. It would take some lockpicking to get anything out of him for sure. Tomas tilted his head. "I have some pain medication. Would you like some, and then we can both try to get some rest?"
Krauser's eyes narrowed. "Just pain pills?"
"Just pain pills."
"Fine." Krauser accepted. "But I want to see the bottle."
XXX
"I won't take the bed." Krauser said. "I refuse."
Tomas groaned. The man was becoming increasingly difficult. "Why?"
"You look like you need it more." He rushed to correct himself. "I'll be just fine on the couch. I'm not soft, not like you. I'll do just fine with even the floor."
Tomas rolled his eyes when Krauser wasn't looking. "Sure." He said. "Whatever makes you the most comfortable."
The older man began heading back out to the living room, muttering under his breath. Things about how he shouldn't be here, how he has no idea of what to do with civilians. "Too normal and complacent." He muttered under his breath.
Tomas smiled weakly. The man seemed lost, truly unsure of what to make of the situation. To Tomas' credit, he wasn't sure either–he'd have to head to the funeral home in the morning for an early service at his job, and would have to leave the man alone. It was possible he could designate his duties to a fellow employee, but he wasn't sure.
The whole shebang was pretty complicated, and most of all, unplanned.
Krauser didn't exactly scream "safe" or "trustworthy", but Tomas felt called to help him all the same. Even if Krauser had commanded him initially, and even if the scarred man was taking advantage of him…he needed help. That was something Tomas couldn't ignore.
His mind flashed to Raccoon City, that dreadful night in 1998. He remembered the last time he ever saw his parents, the headlights of the car that had sailed towards him, the moaning of zombies… He shuddered. Maybe this man had endured something similar. He was a complete mystery right now, but it was fairly palpable that he was traumatized. Maybe he had also been hurt by Umbrella. Maybe the world itself had hurt him. Even with his curled lip and ice-cold glare, he looked like a guy carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could hide it behind snarky remarks and scowls, but Tomas saw right through the facade. After all, he had had one too, a long time ago.
Tomas didn't believe in fate, but as he peered outside of the bedroom and watched as Krauser sat stock straight on the couch, simply staring at the wall… He felt that he was meant to meet this man. He had piqued Tomas' interest in a way that nothing else ever had before. The chance of a lifetime had been meeting him.
He wanted to help him. But he also realized that that was more up to Krauser than it was to him.
He hoped he stayed.
A/N: I'm not sure how long this story will be, and I'm still planning the logistics and plot haha. I hope you've enjoyed Tomas' introduction and the work so far! There will definitely be more to come. :)