[spoiler]Merry Christmas you bast*rds. Now you know.[/spoiler] [b][i]I Remember[/i][/b] [i]"It snuck up like a desert wind. I got a feeling I won't feel again. When faith abandons me I hope it does it honestly. I still howl like an animal in the darkness And I'm reminded by the blood on my clothes. I can't stand what I've become. I'm shivering despite the sun. We come together and were overwhelmed by the loneliness. I want oblivion all the time" -Every Time I Die[/i] [b]Christmas Day, Seven Years Ago, Elizabeth City, North Carolina, USA, Alternate Earth[/b] "Cody can you come in here and cut the ham for me please? I need to get the potatoes." [i]Came a polite shout from the kitchen, Danielle Wolfe. [/i] "Of course." [i]Cody Wolfe stood up from his seat in the living room by the Christmas tree, and walked into the kitchen to help his wife finish making Christmas dinner. They usually ate earlier, around 2:30-ish on Christmas Day, it was just tradition. Jackson sat calmly on the couch, looking at the knife his father had given him for Christmas. The Bowie was beautiful, a typical and yet brilliant knife. It had belonged to Jackson's grandfather, and had been passed down to his father, and then to himself. It had seen combat in the jungles of Vietnam, the deserts of the Middle East, and the urban fights in Dubai during the Third World War. Jackson felt it strange to be holding the blade that had been used to kill, strange that it had been given as a gift to him. Sliding it into its leather sheathe, he stood up from the couch, and trotted upstairs to put the knife away. He knew dinner would be ready soon, and he was looking forwards to the ham. Just the smell alone had his mouth watering. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, his mother and father jested, Cody cutting the ham, Danielle stirring the mashed potatoes.[/i] "I think you made his Christmas, honey. He hasn't put the knife up since you gave it to him." [i]She said, a smile gracing her face, her blonde hair back in a ponytail.[/i] [i]Cody carried on cutting, slicing a piece of ham off and eating it. Unbeknownst to the family, a black Suburban had stopped in front of the their home, windows tinted, no license plates. A single man exited the vehicle, dressed in black. He headed straight for the door of the home before him.[/i] "I don't know sometimes. He's interested in it, but I don't know if he appreciates it or if he's confused as to why I gave it to him. You know, I don't think he's ever going to look at me the same way again after what I told him." "I told you that it wasn't going to help anything. I know it's for the best, but he doesn't seem to be handling it well." [i]Danielle replied.[/i] "I know teens are supposed to be distant, but it seems like he's almost hostile... I didn't want to drive him away, I just wanted to be straightforward with him, but in comparison to what I was afraid was going to happen, this is nothing. I thought I was going to lose both of you. I thought you were going to take him and run." [i]Cody said, looking over to her.[/i] "Honey, I'm never going to stop loving you. We all make mistakes, we've all done horrible things, but you didn't just leave the impacts of your actions for someone else. You took responsibility, you tried to right your wrongs, and that's something most people wouldn't do. I married you because I loved you, no matter what, and to this day, I still feel that way. I still love you, no matter what." [i]She said reassuringly.[/i] "Guess I know why I married you... you always were sweet." [i]A smile crossed his face as he finished slicing up the ham. As he set the electric knife down, the doorbell chimed.[/i] "I've got it." [i]He said, leaving Danielle to finish the potatoes. Outside on the steps, the figure in black checked the gun that was situated in his jacket. The suppressor was tight, the gun was loaded. Double tap and go. Quick and clean. Less than a minute to the door, less than a minute back to the car, and out of the neighborhood in five. Walking to the door, Cody Wolfe unchained the latch and unlocked the deadbolt before he opened it, Jackson coming downstairs just as he did. The instant that he opened the door, Cody knew what was coming. In the doorway stood a man in a black suit, a black overcoat covering it, sunglasses shielding his eyes, despite the grey and snowy day. Out in front of the house was the black SUV, windows and rims tinted out. The man in the doorway reached for something in his overcoat, and before Cody Wolfe could react, the man had drawn his suppressed pistol and fired two shots. The ex-Marine, ex-Venom Incorporated commander stared his killer in face, his expression one of shock as he realized what just happened. One round had struck his heart, the other his right lung. Jackson looked on, watching as the scene unfolded in what appeared to be slow motion, frozen in horror as his dad crumpled to the floor, the man in the doorway turning and making his leave. A distressed cry came from the kitchen.[/i] "Cody?" [i]Danielle came running, and she froze as she saw her husband lying on the ground, the shooter climbing into the SUV and speeding away. As the shooter got into the Suburban, the driver floored it away from the house, and he took off his glasses.[/i] "Quick and clean." [i]He said.[/i] "Positive he's dead?" [i]Asked the driver[/i] "Absolutely. Shot to the heart and one to the lung." "Good job." [i]The driver said, clearly impressed.[/i] [i]In the house, Jackson rushed to his father, holding the dying man in his arms, the blood staining his white hoodie as it poured from his father's wounds. Cody's breathing was sporadic, ragged, and in mere minutes, it stopped, his body going still. Jackson remained there, blood pooling around him, his dead father in his arms, as his mother called the police, who showed up less than five minutes later, four squad cars, a crime scene unit, and a detective. The flashing red and blue lights, the tape, the officers, everything seemed to be unreal. Jackson remained with his father for as long as he was able. It took the police several minutes to get an ambulance on scene, not that it mattered. Once they had arrived, the paramedics shooed Jackson away as they tended to the dead man. Retreating to the small landing at the bottom of the stairs, Jackson watched in silence as they covered his father in a sheet, loaded him onto a stretcher, and wheeled him out. The officers and his mother were conversing, and she was explaining what had happened, giving descriptions of the man and the vehicle he was in, but she had really only seen the man's back and the side of his face. Once they finished with her, they approached Jackson to see what he knew. Due to the location of the door, he hadn't really seen the car or the shooter. The officers finished quickly with him, both shooting glances at the boy's bloodstained hoodie and hands. Jackson was glad when they left. He didn't want to recount what happened, hell, he was still trying to come to terms with it. The police remained at his house for two hours before they finally left, bidding the family their condolences, not that it made anything easier. Jackson remained on the staircase landing, sitting and staring at the space on the floor where his father had died in his arms. He could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen, but he could find no tears of his own. Eventually finding the will to stand up, he forced himself up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he rapidly stripped out of his bloody clothes and climbed into the shower, turning the water up as hot as he could get it. Standing beneath the shower head, he closed his eyes, and despite the heat, he was shivering. [/i] [b]Outskirts of Dojoville, 3:00 AM, Christmas Morning[/b] [i]Jackson woke with a gasp, and found himself lying in his bed, his body drenched with sweat, and yet he was shivering. Throwing the old Army blanket off of himself, he got out of bed, and looked at the clock, noting the time. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Walking across his room, he pulled the curtains back on his sliding door, looking out to see the night, the moon illuminating the darkness. Unlocking the door, he went outside onto the balcony. Wearing nothing but his combat pants, he surprisingly did not feel cold. Looking out to the horizon, he saw the Dojo on his left, the wilderness before him and to the right. Taking it all in,he sighed. Leaning on the railing, he ran another hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. This happened every year. He couldn't get away from that damned memory. He needed a drink... He really needed to go back to bed, and yet he remained, standing in the icy air, silent. [/i] [spoiler]open for replies and comments.[/spoiler]