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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Hey. I got this idea after a bitchfest with my best buddygal Missa. She brought up the idea that she could believe that Raines was P's father, but that Jarod's was some other guy (not Charles). I countered with the concept that MP's dad might not have been introduced yet. Well, here is the result of months of thought and weeks of proofreading. Thanx 2 Missa for helping fuel my creative fires in substitute of my muses, all but one of whom were destroyed when they fought over the last cigarette.

FEEDBACK!!! AND ARCHIVE WHERE EVA YA WANT!!
Enjoy.





Hunter
part 1
by P_Effect




My mother named me Jonathan M. Hunter while I was still in the womb. George Hunter, my father, argued that if it was a girl, she would be up the creak without a paddle, to which my mother replied that I was a boy, and if he didn't like it, tough shit.

And Catie wondered where I got my stubborn streak from... I'm getting way ahead of myself. Sorry, but the mind tends to drift when you've been locked down in SL-29 for this long. Has it only been thirty years? It seems like centuries ago. Ages since I was ripped from power, my dreams shot down in front of me and my life with my daughter taken from me before it had a chance to start...

My daughter. My little girl. My angel. Of course, now she's HIS angel. HIS daughter.

But she'll never be his child.

This gives me the only speck of hope that I can keep alive down here. She'll always be my child, not even he can take that away from me. No one can! Not that Cigarette Smoking Asswipe Raines, or that Lying Sonavabitch Parker! SHE'S MY LITTLE GIRL!!!

see what I mean about getting side tracked? I'm supposed to be starting at the beginning. I guess it's the right place to begin-- as good as any other.

I was born Jonathan M. Hunter, or Jack for short. My mother was a secretary for a law firm, my father a captain in the Capilucci crime family. Growing up, I was exposed to the worst and best of the world, morals coming in from all sides. But despite what they were, my parents loved each other. My father always said that there were two kinds of women in the world: bitches, and the ones that aren't worth messin' with. And that my mother was a bitch, right down to her core. This always earned him a playful glare and a kiss from my mother.

I played, I learned, I lived. I was a good student, quarterback for the football team, all American boy. I grew up and went into one of the more...unique professions. Bounty Hunting. Yes, I know, not exactly the most honorable line of work. But the money was good, and I was doing something I had always loved.

Hunting.

Ironic, considering my name, but nonetheless I had always loved relying on my instincts and God given talents to get what I wanted. I was good at it too-- brought back so many criminals I lost count, and each time I got better and better.

I came to realize that I had some very special abilities after some time. I could hear someone breathe from 100 yards away if I focused-- could smell someone's sweat over the stench of rotting fish heads and putrid garbage. To this day I refer to it as my "Baser Instincts," not knowing anything more correct to term it. That's what they are-- instinctual abilities and feelings left to me by my ancestors.

Things were going great-- I liked my job, life, and friends. Everything in my life was going perfectly...

And, of course, every all American boy, eventually meets an all American girl.
Catherine Jamison. The most beautiful woman I've ever met.

Hair like chocolate, eyes like emeralds, skin like porcelain. I met her after my grandfather had a heart attack-- she was a nurse in the hospital. I was so depressed about the whole incident, sitting in the hallway with my head in my hands...and she came up to me, took my hand, and led me down to the cafeteria to get some coffee.

Her voice held such soft concern-- such complete and utter caring-- that it made my chest feel tight with adoration, my throat closing up in happiness.
We got married exactly a year later.

Catherine confided her dreams to me. She said that the only thing she really wanted to achieve in life was helping others, and that she had gotten together with two other women-- a Ms. Edna Tulen and Ms. Margaret Downing-- and had designed a plan to help make their dreams come true. They bought an old apartment building, fixed it up, and set up shop. I named it The Centre, after an old deli.

The one Catherine had taken me into to get me a sandwich when my grandfather had taken a turn for the worst.

We worked out all right for a while, getting donations from the local businesses and the government. Children with illnesses and no families came to stay with us, getting treatment and love.
I hoped it would never end.

Catherine opened a wing for gifted children-- ones with special abilities. Ones like her. She had told me of her "Inner Sense" when we had gotten married, wanting to let me know just in case she ever seemed out of it. To make sure I didn't worry too much.

Not like that stopped me.

I think they approached Edna first... No, it was Margaret. I remember, because Margaret and Catherine had always been the best of friends, and as much as she loved Edna, Margaret's opinion always took top billing.

A company from Africa called the Triumvirate had looked at what we were doing, and had decided we looked like a good investment. All we had to do was let them run some medical experiments on labrats and help them with their research. We agreed, signing over our souls to the devil we knew.

They bought us a compound by the sea, filled with sublevels and huge offices. We had the medical facilities to treat and house hundreds of thousands of children! Oh, I still remember the happy look on Catherine's face, the shine in her eyes, and the tremor of joy in her voice as she told me of their productivity.

Their productivity...and my daughter.

A daughter. MY daughter...I was going to be a daddy. My cheeks had been spread so wide that I felt certain that I would never be able to wipe the shit eating grin off my lips. I went around showing her ultrasound to everyone from the mailman to the highest members of the Triumvirate. I hovered over Catherine like a hawk, at her side 24/7, only leaving when she laughingly shoved me out, or when Edna and Margaret dragged me away-- either them or their husbands. Have I mentioned them?

Edna married a man named William Raines, a Doctor...and not to speak ill of Edna's tastes, but even back then I got a really creepy feeling around him. He always seemed a bit too...Dr. Frankenstein.

Now Margaret's hubby-- he was a different story. Major Charles Russell, United States Air Force. One of my best buds.

Charles always seemed to know what to do or say. He used to claim that one day Catherine would come to her senses and marry some nice military man. I, in turn, would say that one day Margaret would wake up and dump his sorry ass for a nice Jewish doctor.

As I said, the perfect friend.

They had a son too-- what was his name again...Some mix of James and Nimrod...Jarod! That was it. A nicer child you've never met-- he was content to sit in a corner and color in a book. And smart too--he knew how to play a better game of chess than I did. Beat the pants off me!

I remember how he had stared at Catherine's growing belly, until he had been allowed to touch it and feel my daughter kicking. He used to love to sit on her lap-- Margaret was so bony she didn't really have one to speak of, and Jarod always loved to sit in Catherine's comforting embrace while Margaret looked on in amusement.

I only remember this, because one day, my daughter, still in Catherine's womb, kicked him off.

It was Charles who introduced me to Dr. Jacob Green, a Holocaust survivor whose trials and horrific past had only served to strengthen his love of life and his fierce love of all things good. Jacob had a twin brother-- Dr. Sydney Green-- who, though just as protective of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, always seemed a little less strong willed. Sydney was more in the category of going with the flow, while Jacob would stand up and fight at the smallest indecency. Somewhere in between the two was the perfect man, one who knew when to stand up, but also when to shut up and enjoy the ride. However, for both of their faults, Catherine and I trusted and cared about them.

Things were going grand. Raines and Charles had started working at the Centre. Sydney and Jacob had done wonders with the gifted children-- helping them gain control and power over their gifts. Productivity was through the roof, my wife was going to give birth in 9 months, and all the people around me were good hearted.

And then he came along...

Mr. James Parker was an operative from the Triumvirate, who took one look at Catherine and started salivating. I saw it and Charles saw it, but Catherine, who had never been aware of her power over people, was ignorant to his attractions. I saw it though. I saw every look at her legs, every gaze at her ass, every sweep of his fingers over hers when he handed her something.

I hated him for it.

I still do.

But, I was secure in my position, or so I thought. Catherine loved me-- she told me so every morning, every night, and a million times in between. I had a daughter on the way-- a beautiful little girl who'd call me dad and who'd be there for me to shower love and attention upon. I would get to have a glorious life with my two favorite women and our friends.

And then that bastard made his move.

I was attacked by some of Parker's men when I walked out of my office. I wasn't paying attention to them-- I should have been-- but judging by the news I had just heard, you really couldn't have expected me to.
I'd found a file in the mainframe called "NuAge," and in it I read about a future.

A future of pain and suffering for the innocent, one of undermining the government, disreguarding morals and the value of human lives, playing God for a whole future generation...

Starting with my daughter and Jarod.

The little boy who knew how to play chess was aparently one of the special children that the Centre housed-- but to a much larger degree. The records talked of how the Triumvirate had been monitoring the child's growth and progress...

And how they planned to use my daughter to bring about a new era in the Centre.

So I was distracted, as you can well imagine and as I claimed. They never would have taken me alive otherwise.

I was dragged to a room down in an empty sublevel and beaten within an inch of my life. My ribs, which remained unset, still bear the scars. My back was ripped into by chains and torn bloody by the boots and knives of the men in black suits. I could feel my life being stolen away from my body...and then he came.

James leaned down and smiled at me, a smile of true evil. "Jacky my boy, there just isn't enough room in Catherine's life for the both of us. And unfortunately for you, I intend on being the champion of this little shindig." I can remember everything about that moment-- the stench of his breath, the look of power in his eyes, my own blood filling my mouth.

"You'll never get away with this. My friends will come looking for me, Catherine will come looking for me-- my daughter will come looking for me!" Parker laughed and shook his head.

"Intelligence never was one of your strong suits, was it my friend," he leaned in close and grinned, his eyes crinkling in humor. "They won't remember you. I can make sure of it. Charles and Margaret will have never met you, Catherine will praise me as her husband, and as for your daughter, well, she'll be my angel, not yours. Her and her brother." My head swam, and not just because of the blood loss. "Brother?"

"I wanted a son. And Raines wanted a test subject. Catherine received an already implanted ova during her last test, and your child and mine are growing quite happily inside her." I felt the anger fill me, and with the last dregs of my waning strength, I grabbed him. "You'll never get away with this-" He shoved me back down. "I already have, Jacky boy. Don't be so cliche. And as for the fact that she's your daughter, well, no one's perfect." And with that, he rose and gave me one last kick, and then walked out, leaving me on the floor.

The heavy door slammed closed and the locked slid into place with deep reverberating thunks.

I've been here ever since.

I spent the first few years in mourning. Mourning for the life I'd lost, the wife I'd been stolen from, the daughter I'd never see grow up. I wondered a lot about her-- I still do.

Did Catherine name her Morganna like we'd agreed on? Or did James take that from us too?

Did Jarod become the plaything of the Triumvirate like they planned? Or did Charles keep him safe?

Did Catherine ever remember me?

Yes, I refer to Catherine in the past tense. I heard some of the men in black talking as they brought my food in, one day many years ago.

"...right in front of the little girl? Man, Raines has balls." "Or no soul. I liked Catherine-- she baked all of our team cookies for Martin's birthday."
"Yep, too bad she had to kick. Nice ass on her too."

Have I mentioned, recently, that being stuck down in SL-29 sucks ass? No?
Being stuck down in SL-29 sucks ass. Especially when the object of your rage isn't in SL-29, and is somewhere out in the world causing chaos and pain to all those who he comes near.

I swear to God, when I get out of here, Raines and Parker are going to hell so quickly that they won't have time to try and bribe the Grim Reaper.









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