Just completed FarCry3. And ommmmggggg, I love Vaas. I loved him that much that he was the only reason I wanted to continue playing. What an amazing voice actor.
He had to go talk to Dennis. Dennis would know what to do, that guy seemed to help him when life was fucking him over and over.
Dennis...Dennis was different but he was...Dennis helped him when no one else would.
The music had picked up it's pace, and was louder when he got closer to the village. He shook his head, and tried to focus. Jason rubbed his eyes some, trying to wake himself up more. His vision kept blurring, it was hard to pay attention. The trees from the jungle kept distracting him. He had no idea what lurked in there and that bothered him, he should have known the jungle he ran through it enough.
Buck Hughes could be in there, Hector the Predator could be in there. If Hector actually was in there and jumped out, if Hector captured him Jason would kick his own ass for that stupid ass mistake.
Time for a history lesson, Jas.
Fuck history lessons.
"Shit." He whispered under his breath. Whether it was to the Island, to Buck, to even Hector or himself, he wasn't sure anymore. Jason was exhausted and trying to save his friends, to protect them all. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his entire life.
That was not him relaxing, Jason was far from relaxing. The very idea of being out in the open bothered him to no end, nagging in his thoughts and at his hands.
Jason finally got to the village, and headed straight to Dennis’ house. He banged on the door some, already hearing the whispering of the people. Dennis answered the door at the fifth knock and looked just as surprised as the people in the village had before.
“Jason…I-” Dennis looked over him, noticing the tattered clothing and exhausted eyes “I was not expecting you so soon. Come in, come in.” The door opened up a bit more.
Jason shoved himself through, walking inside the room. He stood in the middle of it, running his hands through his hair. His own bruises were barely healing, he should have probably taken some more medication from the Doc or something. His mind was racing, thoughts telling him to go back to the cave. That he should have never left. But what image did that send to everyone else?
That he was a fucking coward. That he had given up. He never gave up, he couldn't.
“What’s wrong, Jason-“
“What’s wrong?” Jason interrupted, actually laughing softly.
“Buck Hughes.”
Jason turned to face him at him, staring for a moment before looking away. He curled his fingers into his palms. There was only warmth inside the room, but the heat was growing.
He could still hear people talking outside Dennis’ place. He decided to ignore them for the time being. The tightening of his stomach started up again however he shook his head.
"Buck Hughes is hunting."
"Hunting, yes. I heard from the radio. Vaas let everyone know." Dennis nodded his head and walked over to the table. He picked up a few maps, and a few other papers, before sliding them under something. Dennis was always so secretive, and still carried that thick ass knife on his hip.
"Hunting me, right?" Jason folded his arms, tilting his head.
"Perhaps. Buck Hughes is a very sick man." He'd heard that one before, from Earnhardt.
He had to be strong here. He couldn’t throw up after every single thing that bothered him. Then he’d be sicked all the time. His hair was still stuck to his face, and he felt hot again. It was always so hot on this island, even with the previous storming nights. The rain had come and gone so fast, he actually missed that.
“You do not need to worry. Hoyt will reel him in. He always does, Jason.” Dennis had the gall to smile, arms out as if what they talked about was absolutely nothing.
That it meant nothing.
“Buck isn’t someone to give up. I’m not stupid.” Jason shook his head, running those hands through his hair again. It’s suddenly so fucking hot.
Before Dennis could persuade him otherwise there was screaming from outside. Oh shit! Was that gunfire? Dennis looked away quickly, already heading to the door.
“Dennis-“
Dennis put his hand up, to silence him, cracking the door some “Oh shit. It is Hector. It’s not good, Jason. He brought men with him. Shit. Hoyt is going to blow a fuse over this one.”
He had never met the man himself, but from what he heard Hoyt was not the sort of person you just fucked over whenever you felt like it, or at all. Hoyt didn't sound all that close to anyone either, but he ran this place like a King. What was the saying again? With an iron grip, that was it, Hoyt had a strong iron grip too. Fuck. His fingers curled into his palms again, and his nails dug into his palms until it hurt.
He wanted it to hurt.
Jason’s eyes widened. He’d been pretty damn careful in his opinion. Okay, maybe mowing down two cars that belonged to Vaas wasn’t that clever but damn. Shit, what if he didn't get back to the others? Earnhardt would have a panic attack, as would everyone else and Keith...Keith needed him back.
“What do I do?” There was only one working door inside here.
They could both hear the shouting from outside. Hector was on top of a car from what Jason could see in the crack of the door. The man had a vest this time, shirtless underneath. Hector had a thick sawed off shotgun from the looks of it. Jason had learned a thing or two over the years.
“Holy shit, Dennis.” Dennis shook his head, gently pushing him away from the door “I will handle this. You must hide, Jason.” Dennis did not even look at him.
Jason backed away as far as he could, until he stood beside the gun machine or whatever the hell it was. He couldn't really remember but he could definitely here Hector's shouting from outside. The man sounded like he was starting up a protest for something, maybe that's why Buck liked him so much...
"Come on, Dennis. I know you're in there. I didn't come all the way here to watch a festival happened. If I wanted to do that, I could have just burned your village to the ground." Hector was raising his voice some, calling out for Dennis.
Dennis sighed, before slipping outside, shutting the door until it was only cracked behind him. Jason tried to glance at the crack without moving an inch, he didn't want to be seen.
"Hector. What are you doing here? Hoyt told Buck Hughes that--"
"Yes, yes, we all know what Hoyt tells us, don't we?" Hector hopped off the car, onto his feet.
Jason felt his heart pound harshly against his ribs, begging to be let loose. He grasped his shirt, twisting it some with his fingers. Shit, shit. He needed to get out of here before he was noticed. He sure as hell wasn't going to go back to Buck's House of Torment and knives, that sure as hell was not going to happen.
"Where is the boy?" Hector glanced at the cowardly people then back at Dennis. Hector looked so confident, tilting his head and smiling so sweetly at Dennis "Where is Brody?"
"Brody? I do not--"
There were only two shots but both nearly hit Dennis' feet.
"Do not make me ask again, Dennis." Hector's smile was gone. Hector's eyes were probably dark as hell by that time. Jason wasn't sure if he ever wanted to know what Hector pissed off looked like, not in his whole life, he'd be probably better off without knowing that.
"He came by earlier, but he ran off because I could do much. He's a runner, just like Vaas said." Dennis was a pretty damn good liar when he wanted to be. There was a few moments that passed while Hector approached Dennis, slow steps, still with that fucking confidence.
Jason could just barely see how Hector was smiling. That perfect, warm smile that could light up the world. That was the sort of smile one would never want to see on someone like Hector. He wasn't even sure if Hector had any real emotion in him either, Buck sure as hell didn't. All Buck liked was pain and...well, more pain. Oh, and knives and history. There was that too.
"Really?" Hector didn't sound like he believed Dennis all that much.
Dennis nodded his head though, and kept his ground.
Jason turned around, looking around. There had to be some way. He grasped the locked door beside the machine, but it wouldn't budge. His back was to the front door, not really looking but paying attention to what was being said.
"Are you really sure about that, Dennis? Because I am personally sure you do not want a round of bullets resting in your gut." Hector chuckled softly before he glanced around. The birds chirped, and the skies were bright. Hector was probably thinking how great of a fucking day it was.
That cheerful motherfucker.
"Your people are awfully scared of simple men coming into their village. What do they have to fear? Have you been telling stories again, Dennis?"
"Please, they have done nothing. Go, Brody is not here, I swear to you he is not."
Dennis shook his head slowly, and smiled "I would not lie to the great Hector of Rook Island. I know what you are capable of."
"Oh, Dennis. Dennis." Hector acted as if were speaking to an old friend, a close friend.
Jason kept tugging at the locked door, before stepping over to the window beside it. He tried to make it budge, grunting softly. He had to be quiet, he'd be fucking caught if he was louder than a cough or a breath. His own breathing was starting to get harder and harder to do, his chest hurting, felt like it was burning much like his throat.
This was harder than it looked.
He tugged again, finally hearing a soft click. Thank god, it was opening. He slowly lifted it, parting the curtains from the side. Jason knew he'd probably have to squeeze through if he just--
Jason was ripped back by strong arms, one arm around his throat and even when Jason tilted his head back, he felt cool metal under his jaw. Shit, Hector fucking caught hi--
He whined softly, trying not to grunt or to move an inch as the knife pressed against his jaw more so. The metal was cold, and it made goosebumps spread over his flesh when Hector did that.
"Ah, ah, ah, Jason." Hector cooed into his ear, lips pressed against that cheek. The man's breathing was hot and heavy, like a lover's.
"Where are we going this fine morning? It's too lovely to spend inside, let's go and enjoy the outdoors, hm? That's what you should be doing."
Jason Brody was going to kick his own ass later on if he ever got the chance.
