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Surveying the dark hallway decorated with shredded curtains, flickering candles on smashed cocktail tables, and blood spatters on tackily-decorated walls, Neil couldn't help but wonder if normal people thought this scary, but the cheerful Foxes laughing around him in the haunted house brushed away his care.
"Neilllll," Nicky whined. "Stop lagging, we need to catch up with the others." Neil barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and jogged to catch up. He had held back on purpose for some peace and quiet with Andrew, but it was quickly becoming clear that that may not be possible tonight. Matt's eyes lit up when he saw Neil approaching.
"Make way, make way, my son has arrived." Matt gestured wildly while stumbling around. Dan gave a fond sigh before wrapping her arm around his waist, holding him up. The others grinned, first at the couple and then at Neil, and Neil only had a moment to look back at Andrew before being swallowed up. Neil felt a small smile begin as they dragged him from room to room, drunkenly gesturing and rambling.
They were on the second floor of the haunted house, and the room they were currently in had a vampire theme. A dark coffin was propped up in one corner of the room, the wooden lid flashing in the faux-candlelight. A shelf packed with bottles labelled "Blood," and "Guts," sat next to the coffin. In the center, however, two fake bodies hung from the ceiling, held up by their wrists with their heads rolled back. Necks exposed, blood dripped from two distinct puncture wounds near the collarbone. Even while knowing the room wasn't small at all, Neil felt reminded of a certain bird's nest. Before the panic could materialize into something obvious, he shoved it down. If there was anything he knew, it was smothering emotions until he could let them out at a more convenient time.
The rest of the Foxes slowly filled the room, gasping at the realistic corpses and snickering at the jars. Neil felt a prickle of anticipation, body readying itself for fight-or-flight. Unable to overcome the feeling, he elected to ignored it, blaming the unsettling surroundings.
He regretted that as soon as the coffin door opened and a knife flew near his ear.
Neil turned to the coffin, already having chosen "fight," and tensed at the grinning Lola standing before him. She took a dramatic step out, landing on the floor with a thump.
"Hey, Junior. Didn't think you'd see me again, did you? I don't like how our last meeting ended, so I just had to visit again. Miss me?" Lola laughed, uncaring of the Foxes (except Neil) rushing out the door.
Red tinted his vision, anger slowing down time. Was she really trying to ruin everything again? The Moriyamas, the Hatfords, they all had his back. Did she think she could fight them all? He rushed forward, ready for the fight she was apparently itching for.
He swung a fist at her face, but she grabbed it and pushed it down.
"Oh my, Junior. Forgotten my fighting lessons already? You didn't even bother with a knife." Neil would regret not taking Renee up on her offer later. He had bigger things to attend to. With Neil's back facing Lola's front, he slammed his elbow, hoping to connect with something other than solid wall.
He had forgotten a hard-learned rule: hoping meant nothing for people like him.
With a growl, Lola turned him around and pulled out a knife. Her maniac grin was back. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" Neil lunged forward again, this time bringing a knee to her stomach. Years of running plus his time on court made him too fast for Lola. She gasped and dropped the knife, clearly having underestimated his skills. Admittedly, he was quite pitiful back in Baltimore. Grabbing the knife from the floor, he slammed her against the wall, neglecting the sound of Foxes coming back in the room, this time with an armed Andrew and a steeled Renee.
Too little, too late.
Grasping the knife, he jabbed the knife into her palm and pinning her down. Blood dripped from the wound as the knife split the drywall behind her hand. Bone crunched sickeningly as Neil shattered her hand. To her credit, Lola only laughed breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she was back. Neil patted her down briefly for another knife and wasn't disappointed. A cursory check revealed two more knives with bone white handles, intricate details carved in. Neil smiled Nathaniel's smile, a horrifying hybrid of Lola's manic one and Nathan's sadistically confident one. He pressed one of the knifes to Lola's neck.
"Really, Lola? I thought you would know better than to bring a knife to a Wesninski." Neil gave her a mockingly condescending look.
"I didn't know if you were worthy of the Wesninski name. I thought my lessons were worthless, wasted on an insult to your father," she gasped. "I should have known better; I apologize, my butcher." Though she was writhing in pain only moments before, she stilled long enough to send him a sickly sweet smile, daring but no longer hostile. She wasn't mourning, but it was a near thing.
Neil forced any reaction the words were supposed to provoke down as he continued his mocking smile, this time joined by curious eyes. "That's it? You escaped jail to see whose blood pumps through my veins? To see whose values I adhere to? And here I thought you missed me."
"I missed my butcher," she corrected. "You killed him, and now you've replaced him. If you tell me to die, to run, to throw myself off a cliff, I will do it." Lola leveled her look, dead serious.
Neil gave a considering look before slamming the knife previously held at her throat to her other palm unflinchingly. This time, Lola couldn't keep her sob in. "Fitting, isn't it? Looks a little like a crucifixion." Neil stepped back, admiring his handiwork before meeting Lola's gaze again. " I want you to rot in jail, in hell. I want you to feel pain every day for the rest of your life for what you did to me, what you made me do. I want you to regret everything that brought you here to this moment, and then I want you to die." She gave him a disbelieving look before realizing he was serious, cold resolution promptly taking over.
"Welcome back, Butcher," she whispered, letting her head hang from the pain. "Welcome back."