From the twisted minds that brought you "Crossfire", we present the much-anticipated sequel!
"Yo, Jeffro... why are you setting four places for dinner?" Tom yawned, listlessly leafing through a recent issue of National Geographic.
"Didn't I tell you Connor and Cooper are comin' over for dinner?"
Tom looked over at Jeff, a What the fuck! Expression on his face for a moment, but he quickly covered it. "Oh," he answered, trying to sound like it didn't bother him. "Should I have bought more beer?"
"I already took care o' that. I just need you to warm up the barbecue." Jeff smiled sweetly.
"Yes, honey-bunny." A quick peck on the cheek in passing, then Tom was outside getting the grill ready.
Jeff hummed happily while he started pounding his meat... for the hamburgers, you perverts!
"Why are we of all people having the misfit brothers over for dinner?" Tom called through the open window.
"Marky asked me if I'd mind," Jeff answered
Tom's brow creased. "When did you have time to talk to Mark?"
"Last week," Jeff stated. "He called and asked if I could get the boys out of his hair for a night and I said yes."
"Don't they have a home of their own?" Tom asked, back inside now that the grill was warming up. He headed for the bar, knowing that if he was going to survive the night, sobriety might be a bad idea.
"I know you don't like me hangin' out with those two, but it's been three months. Dontcha think it's time to forgive and forget?"
"Forgive, yes, but it's very hard to forget this." Tom pulled the collar of his button-down away to show the faded scar on that side of his neck.
"Tommers, pwweeease. Just be nice to them... for me?"
"Don't worry Jeffers. As long as you keep your pants on, I will make every effort to be civil." Tom looked at his glass, which had mysteriously emptied. "Now I think this glass has a hole in it. I'll be right back."
Across town, Mark was frying two of the biggest slabs of meat he'd ever seen, the respective sex organs of himself and Mr. Lawson excluded, on his own back grill. Today marked the twenty-eighth anniversary of the day they'd first fucked on James' bed and Mark wanted to make it special. Not that James would care a whole lot. They'd probably end up doing what they usually did... eat, drink, fight, and fuck, though not always in that order. Sending Connor and Cooper to Jeff's for dinner wasn't the best idea he'd had recently, but he didn't want the night to be ruined by any arguments that wouldn't lead to him having sweaty sex with James.
Now if only James would arrive back from his beer run. Mark looked at his watch again. What takin' that fucker so long? He'd better not have decided to skip out on tonight or I'll rip his lips off his sneering face!
"Do we hafta go there for dinner? Why can't we just kill someone?" Connor whined
"'Coz Mark wants us outta his hair for a night." Cooper replied. Mark's exact quote was somewhere along the lines of "I wanna fuck James for our anniversary and I will not listen to you two doing commentary like last time."
"Shut up and play with Snoopy." Cooper focused on the road.
Connor scratched Snoopy's ears. The puppy barked softly.
"I know. I don't wanna do this either." Connor said
"If it makes you feel any better neither do I, but I guess Mark is still friends with those two, though fuck me if I know why." Cooper sighed, hoping that maybe once this torture was over, he could go out and bond with Connor over a good kill.
"We can say we had car trouble and..."
"Too late. We're here."
"Fuck," Connor cursed.
"At least you have that dog of yours to play with," Cooper muttered as they got out of the car and went up to the front door.
"Well, can I at least kick his door down?" Connor begged.
"No!" Cooper barked. "Tonight we are going to behave like adults for once. Mark and Dad brought us into this world, and I'm sure that if we do anything to prevent Mark from getting ass tonight, he'd been more than happy to take us out just as fast."
"Like he could," Connor scoffed
"I'm sure he'd love to try. And you know Dad, if he's had a few drinks, he'll join in," Cooper stated
The door suddenly swung open, leaving Cooper with his hand in the air.
"You two boys gonna stand out there arguin' all night or come on in?" Tom demanded.
"We were just gonna kick the door down and trash the place," Connor replied
Tom nodded. "I guess it could use some redecorating. Maybe next time."
Connor looked at Cooper. This was not the reaction he'd been expecting.
"Don't mind him. He gets a little pissy when he hasn't had any for a while." Cooper added for Tom's benefit.
"I have too!" Connor whined
"Snoopy doesn't count."
At the mention of his name, Snoopy barked, straining on his leash.
"He housebroken?" Tom asked as Connor denied doing anything dirty with his precious dog.
"Good." Tom whistled loudly and Lizzie trotted into the living room. She stopped when she saw Snoopy. She gave Tom an inquisitive look.
"Keep Snoopy outta trouble, okay?" Tom scratched behind Lizzie's ears. She barked affirmatively, then walked over to Snoopy and sniffed him. Snoopy sniffed her right back.
"Jeffro, company's here." Tom shouted, watching the two dogs get acquainted.
Cooper's jaw dropped when Jeff came out in a tight black t-shirt and faded jeans. Since the incident, James had forbidden either of them from watching any wrestling. Just the thought of anyone with the last name Hardy was enough to trigger one of his psycho rages. Cooper suffered the most from the new order since Connor didn't seem to give a shit one way or the other.
"H-h-hi." He stuttered, his complexion reddening. Connor laughed.
Tom stared from Cooper's embarrassment to Jeff, then to the two dogs who were still getting acquainted, then back to Connor who was laughing loudly. This is gonna be one interesting night.
Mark is going to kill me, James thought to himself as he put the case of beer into the car and then looked around to see if the coast was clear. It was, so he quickly slipped into the alley, following a large, three hundred pound man. He was supposed to be getting home so he and Mark could celebrate their anniversary, but on his way out of the store, he had seen the guy he was currently hunting. Now honestly, he should have just let the guy go because he was late enough as it was. But with that disgusting bulging stomach and gray, walrus-like mustache, the guy looked too much like his father to resist killing him. Does this say anything about my parental issues? I don't think this is healthy…oh well, who gives a fucking shit? It's not like it matters anyway.
Seeing that the side door of a restaurant that had closed down years ago was readily available, James made his move. Moving way too quickly and quietly for a guy his size, he wrapped one of his arms around his victim's throat and used his free hand to open up the door so he could go into the empty building. He shoved the Joseph look-alike inside roughly, only taking the time to go in himself and shut the door behind him. The man in front of him got up to his feet and started to say something but James drove the blade of his knife into the guy's chest and moved it upwards. The guy let out a short, pained yell, before looking up at James with watery, dumb eyes. A few gurgling sounds escaped him as he started to drown in his own blood. James yanked his knife back out and watched the guy die right in front of his eyes. Hell, this fucker even sounded like Joseph. This was way too weird.
"Wow, you didn't even stop to play with him. I was hoping to see a little more out of you James. I mean, I did go to all this trouble of finding him for you."
James turned around so fast that his own momentum almost made him lose his balance. A man he had never seen before was standing near the door. What little light that was coming through the windows showed this guy to be a good six or seven inches shorter than James was and at least a hundred pounds lighter. "Who the fuck are you?" James asked, getting the most obvious question out of the way. He hadn't seen or heard this guy come in, which was a little freaky because he usually didn't miss things like that. It doesn't matter. I've got the knife and that'll be enough. The only thing this fucker is going to be is dead.
The guy looked at him in amusement. "You don't recognize me? Oh come on, you have to recognize me. I am a brother of sorts to you."
James cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, you've either got me confused with someone else or you're completely nuts because I only had—"
"One actual brother, I know," the guy interrupted. "Forgive me, I used the wrong word. What I should have said was brethren." The guy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small picture. "Tell me Mr. Lawson, do you know these two people?"
James didn't even really look at the picture. What he was more concerned with was the fact that this guy not only knew his first and last name, but he knew that he had a brother. Jacob was a person that James wasn't even sure the boys knew about. Unless this person lived in his neighborhood in Las Vegas when he had been a teenager, then there shouldn't have been any way that this guy knew about his brother.
The man smiled and put the picture back in his pocket. "Okay, it's too soon for that. We'll get to that later." He clapped his hands together. "So how have you been James? It's been…oh gosh, I have to say thirteen years since I've last seen you face to face."
James tilted his head to the side. He was trying to remember if he had ever met this guy before. So far, he had absolutely no clue who this guy was, much less an answer to his other question.
The guy just smiled some more. "The name's Patrick Wolfe. And no, you haven't actually met me. But I've met you. It wasn't official or anything, but I've seen you a thousand times since I was seven years old. Sure, it was mostly in my head, but I have been watching you from a distance for oh, I don't know….six months now or so."
James gripped his knife tightly. Okay, he had a stalker. That was creepy, but nothing he couldn't handle. "Six months huh? Have you had nothing else better to do for all that time? Don't you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or a goat to fuck and spend time with?"
Patrick shook his head. "I'm not one for company."
"What the fuck does that mean? Are you one of those dweebs who lives in their parents' basement and jacks off to Internet porn? Because you can just back the fuck away from me if you are."
For the first time, an actual emotion seemed to cross Patrick's face. It was a one of boiling anger. "My parents are dead. YOU killed them thirteen years ago."
Occupational hazard of being a serial killer number 6: Vengeful relatives. James shook his head, not feeling a damn bit guilty about this guy's little sob story. "And so you spent half a year stalking me to what? Kill me?" He snorted. "If you think that you're leaving this building alive, then you've got another thing coming."
That stupid fucking smile reappeared on Patrick's face. "You sound very sure of that. Are you aware that pride comes before the fall?"
"Are you aware that you're boring the shit out of me?" James replied. "And are you aware that your parents are probably looking up at you from hell and laughing at your pathetic attempts at getting revenge?"
Patrick chuckled. "Are you trying to provoke me James? Because that's cute. It really is. The fact is, revenge isn't my only motive of being here right now. I'm here to confront you for turning me into the monster I am today."
James was about to ask what the fuck that meant but it clicked before the first sound could leave his mouth. He looked into Patrick's eyes and saw something very familiar about the man. It wasn't because he remembered seeing him from the day he apparently killed his parents. No, what he saw in this guy's eyes was a look that both he and Mark had worn on numerous occasions. This wasn't a desperate man looking for revenge. This was a cold blooded killer who knew exactly what he was getting into when he got James alone.
The moment that all the pieces came together for James, Patrick lunged at him. James automatically went to stab him, but Patrick hit the ground and all James got was air. Patrick immediately kicked him in the knee, causing him to drop down to one leg. The other one was almost swept out from under him, but he managed to avoid that disaster and grab the smaller man by the neck. He went for the kill again, but when Patrick had dropped down to the floor, he had been discreetly taking something out of his pocket. Now the bad news was, it was pepper spray. And the worst news was, he didn't find that out until it was sprayed right in his eyes. It burned like hell, and he could do nothing as he was kicked in the chest except for fall backwards.
"Did you honestly think I haven't prepared for this day?" Patrick asked, kicking the knife out of James's hand as he did so. "I've watched you fight hundreds of times. You're all brute strength Lawson. That's how you usually get what you want. If someone can match you on that or outsmart you, you're usually relying on a lucky break or your precious Marky to save your ass."
Luck huh? James thought as he tried to roll and rub his eyes clean at the same time. Fuck luck. I don't need it to rip his fucking head off. He stumbled back up to his feet, able to see some blurry shapes in front of him now. His ripping Patrick's head off was good in theory, but first he needed to fucking get his hands on the mother fucker.
A blast of electricity hit James right in the lower part of his back, taking him back down. He let out a feral yell and kicked at Patrick as he was tasered again. This was getting fucking upsetting. Kicking harder than ever, his foot managed to connect with Patrick's face. Patrick stumbled back and dropped the taser. James grabbed it and used it against his attacker once before pulling the fucker down and wrapping his hands around his neck. He squeezed hard, doing what he could to choke the life out of this man. The panic that entered most people's eyes at this point never entered Patrick's cold eyes though. In fact, it almost looked like he was trying too hard to look afraid.
Something sharp pricked James's neck, but he was so focused on strangling Patrick that he didn't even fully register it until his whole body suddenly felt weak and heavy at the same time. His grip on Patrick's neck slackened immediately, and as hard as he tried to maintain control, Patrick easily pushed him off and got up to his feet.
"You might as well stop trying to fight it," Patrick said in a pleasant voice. If one were to just listen to him right now, it would have seemed that he and James hadn't just had a fight right then and there. "It's an elephant tranquilizer." He pulled the dart out of James's neck and rubbed his throat. "You see Lawson, I'm a man who likes order and control. You, being the savage beast you are, make that pretty much impossible. So while it's not exactly fair, I had to resort to drastic measures.
James growled and tried to fight his way back up to his feet. He failed miserably though. "Mother…fucker…" he mumbled, not liking this fucking helpless state he was in. He had to get himself out of this. There had to be a way to do it…if only his brain wasn't currently turning into useless mush at the moment.
"It sucks doesn't it?" Patrick asked. He walked over towards the door and picked up a lead pipe. "Being helpless like this…I was helpless once. When you broke into my house and took my parents away from me, I had to hide and do nothing because I was a good boy and when they told me to hide, I did what they said." He chuckled insanely. "I always did what I was told until after that night. But once you left, nothing was the same. My world didn't make sense. And then, when I was sixteen, I was finally fully infected from your sickness. I killed my adoptive family and burned the house to the ground. And ever since then, I haven't been able to control these urges." He moved so that he was standing directly over James, the pipe clutched so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were turning white. "Part of me wants to thank you. I do enjoy what I do. But I mostly just hate you because I'm not the one in charge anymore. The monster you created is."
James could do nothing to defend himself as Patrick began beating him with the pipe. His face, his chest, his stomach, arms, legs—anything that was within reach was hit as hard as possible. The pain that shot through him was agonizing, and after a few knocks to the head, he felt himself starting to slip into unconsciousness.
"Oh no, don't do that," Patrick said. He threw the pipe down to the ground and slapped James across the face a couple of times. "Don't pass out on me now James. We haven't even gotten to the fun part yet." He pulled a knife of his own out of his pocket. "Now see, I could and should kill you right here and now but where's the fun in that? No, I'm going to play a special game with you. Connor, Cooper, Mark—they're all going to be involved in this too. I'm going to get each and every single one of them one by one, and all you're going to do is stand by and watch it. And every single one of their deaths is going to be on your head."
James tried to stop focusing on how fucking weak and sick he felt and tried to tell Patrick to stay the fuck away from his family, but he didn't even really have the energy to move his lips. His eyes started rolling around inside his head, and he felt himself beginning to pass out. Before he could do that though, he felt a terrible pain right into his side.
"Don't worry, I didn't hit any major organs," Patrick said, patting James on the head like he was a small child or something. "I said I wanted you alive, remember? I just felt like you should have a small taste of what exactly you've been doing for all these years."
James just sighed and began drifting into the comforting blackness that was overtaking him. The last thing he was aware of before he passed out completely was the fact that his cell phone was beginning to ring. Mark…has to be Mark…