our very own butterfly [pt.2 of Fennel Fields Forever]
part 1 | part 3
read on ao3
synopsis: some of adrian's deepest secrets start to slip out. you couldn't care less, until you realise they involve you a lot more than you thought.
pairing: adrian chase/gender neutral reader
word count: 3.7k
warnings: explicit language, implied sexual content, canon-typical violence, fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, idiots to lovers
a/n: chapter 2 is here babies! thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, honestly i had no idea what to expect and this blew my mind. now, i didn’t plan for the entire ‘chapter’ to be Just Setup but alas, i just couldn’t help myself. it’s really fun setup I promise, you get to meet the gang! also, obviously this entire chapter is setup, meaning there’s more of Fennel Fields Forever to come!
“Adrian Chase, are you hard right now?”
You stood back up off the ground, brushing your hands against your pants to dust off the pieces of gravel that had wedged their way into your palms. Sputtering and stammering, Adrian mirrored your movements and stood up himself, his hands awkwardly tugging at the crotch of his jeans to try and hide his incredibly evident arousal.
“Wh-, I-, You just killed like three guys right in front of me, okay?” he conceded, “You can’t blame me for getting a little turned on!”
“Uh, okay, one; huge red flag that that’s a turn on for you. Two-”
“Well I guess it’s actually more of a kink if we’re gonna get into specifics…”
Once again, you glared at him in complete, furious astonishment as the low hum of the generator accompanied your staring contest. Your eyebrows slowly and continually raised up your forehead in disbelief as Adrian watched on, blinking feeble-mindedly. This time around, you were the one to eventually break the silence.
“You are not helping your chances, like… at all right now, pal.” you spat, shaking your head in exasperation.
“Sorry.” Adrian mumbled, awkwardly shifting around on the spot as he continued to adjust his pants, his situation refusing to let up.
“Okay, you know what?” you announced, running your palms down your face before stretching them out in front of you in assertion, “That,” you motioned towards his erection, “is not our main problem right now. Fuck the hard-on, we-”
“Please, god, I’m begging.”
You spun around to face him, seething with rage.
“Dude, SHUT. THE FUCK. UP! There are currently three-” you cut yourself off as you remembered the nature of your circumstances right now, lowering both your voice and head and stepping closer to him. You could feel his uneven breathing fanning your face as you looked up at him with wide, stern eyes.
“There are currently three dead bodies laying on the ground right now that I put there,” you started in a whisper, you could feel your voice and your body start to shake as you lost your calm once again, “And my life is already just about as shitty, as it can get, without going to fucking PRISON!” you bellowed, sharply gasping for air as you once again registered your staggering volume.
Adrian’s brow creased in confusion for a moment, before softening again with realisation. The violence that surrounded him had long lost it’s shock-factor for the anti-hero, and he was far more invested in the closeness of your face moments ago. Still though, from the few social skills he’d learnt over the years, he could piece together that you were, as he interpreted it, ‘somewhat distressed’.
“Oh, them?” he scoffed, he genially motioned towards the corpses with his thumb, “Don’t worry about them, I’ll get my friends to fix all that up!”
Adrian pulled his phone out of his pocket, instinctively opening the reddit app by accident, before realising his mistake, closing it, and opening the contacts app like he intended.
“What? What kind of frie…” you trailed off, the realisation hitting you mid-sentence. Adrian was Vigilante. Weird, blundering, socially inept Adrian Chase The Bus Boy from Fennel Fields was Vigilante.
“Oh fuck. You’re Vigilante.” you confirmed aloud.
“What? No? I’m.. not. Him.” Adrian deflected, looking up from his phone. His odd cadence immediately gave away his lie, not that it would help calm the situation even if he sold it well. You just raised your brow at him accusingly, glancing briefly back at the corpses on the ground, then straight back to him.
“Who’s Vigilante?” he denied again, shaking his head.
“For someone with a secret identity, you are a horrible fucking liar, Adrian Chase.”
“... Yeah, okay. Honestly? The mask mostly started because I couldn’t hide my terrible poker face.” Adrian admitted. He then turned his attention back to his phone, scrolling until he found the contact he was looking for and hitting their number. You shook your head as you tried to clarify your thoughts, overwhelmed with the questions swarming your brain.
“What kind of shit have you done to get the god damned Boondock Saints after your ass?”
Adrian cut you off with a harsh ‘shhhh’, bringing his ringing phone up to his ear.
‘SHHHHHHHHHH!’ he interrupted again, holding up a singular, obnoxious finger.
“Oh for fuck sake, I just wanna know what the fuck is going on! I need a god damned smok-”
That little metal tin in your purse suddenly felt a hundred pounds heavy. You carelessly shuffled through your bag, completely omitting the chapstick and loose sticks of gum that fell out as you flippantly dug out the container. You popped the lid too harshly and three small, white joints rolled out onto the floor. You cursed under your breath as you hastily bent down to pick them up, placing one between your lips and the other two back in the tin.
As you sparked your lighter and inhaled the calming toxins, you could hear Adrian’s conversation with an unfamiliar voice on the other end.
”Hey Murn, I’ve got a bit of a clean up situation I need a hand with…”
You couldn’t quite make out the other person’s reply and inconspicuously stepped a little closer. If Adrian wouldn’t answer your questions, you’d just have to answer them your damned self.
”Hey! It wasn’t even me this time! Some crazy stalker Vigilante fan must’ve found out who I was and came after me, so my supervisor came out and whooped their asses!” Adrian squawked into his phone.
You squinted as you listened in closer to the next response.
”Were they butterflies?”
You glowered in confusion. Butterflies? Was that some weird anti-hero code for something? You racked your brain for memories, clues, information, anything that could point to what the hell he meant by ’butterflies’.
“Not sure,” Adrian shrugged, “Hold on…”.
Adrian strutted over to the smaller man’s body, and without hesitation, raised his foot up high in the air, before stomping down on the man’s skull with brute force.
The start of an absolutely blood-curdling scream spilled out from between your lips before your free hand flew up to cover your mouth.
Adrian continued to crush the man’s skull in, blood and brain matter spattering all over the two of you. He slammed his foot down over and over and over again, phone gripped tightly in his hand as he grunted through gritted teeth with each offensive blow. Gasps began to slip out between the fingers guarding your mouth as you watched on in horror. What in the absolute fucking fuck was this heathen doing?
Eventually, the violence subsided, and Adrian raised the phone back up to his ear. He was mildly out of breath, panting as he cautiously leant forward to inspect the carnage for a moment. You watched on in absolute shock and heard him suck his teeth as he stood back up and slowly wandered back towards you, finally replying to the mystery man on the other end of the phone.
“Fuck,” he cursed, “It’s them.”
As if he didn’t just stomp a man’s head into pulp, Adrian kept moseying towards you. The majority of his focus was fixed on listening to the person on the other end, a voice you had since completely tuned out. You continued to stare at the lump of viscera as you sucked away at your joint like your life depended on it, statuesque and shellshocked.
You didn’t move a muscle until you saw Adrian’s hand creeping towards your joint, making comical little pinching motions as he rattled off ‘yeah’s and ‘uh-huh’s into the phone. When his hand got close enough, you instinctively smacked it away, the sudden movement bringing you back to planet earth.
“Oww-uh! Ru-ude!” Adrian whined at you. “Oh, no, not you Murn.” he uttered back into the phone.
You were quick to shift your attention back to the bloodbath in front of you. Your expression of anguish, however, was quick to morph into one of intrigue as you noticed something blue and iridescent poking out from a lump of brain matter.
Your body acted long before your mind had a chance to realise what a bad idea this was, your curiosity getting the better of you as you knelt down to observe the mystery substance. You tilted your head and tried to figure out what on god’s green earth you were looking at. It was mostly buried under gray matter, but you could see the tip of it poking out and shining away in the street light in the way those cheap, tinsel party wigs shine.
You quickly procured one of your switchblades from your bag and flicked it open, using the tip of it to flick away the skull fragments as the back of your joint-holding hand covered your mouth to hold down the nausea. You managed to dig out a small, bug-like leg. Then another. And then another. Eventually you found the body of the mystery-bug, and you could properly scale up the size of this thing.
“Butterfly,” you exhaled, “Guess that makes sense…”
It was a lot bigger than any butterfly you’d ever seen though. It’s wings were more similar to a dragonfly’s, it’s body much closer to a stick insect. You attempted to poke one of the wings and jumped away in fright as it twitched. Without thinking, you stood back up and began to stomp on it with reckless abandon to make sure it was dead for good. You had no idea what the hell it was, but if it was enough to cause the chaos that surrounded you, you weren’t willing to take any more chances.
You raised your blood-soaked shoe to view the damage below it - you’d managed to stomp the butterfly into several pieces. It’s wing was completely detached from its body, though it’s coruscating texture still taunted you with it’s sparkle.
You turned back around to face Adrian with a brand new, even meaner scowl on your face as you sucked on your joint, impatiently waiting for him to finish his phone call. You had some serious questions.
“Yeah, just out the back of Fennel. Okay. Alright. Thanks Murn… Oh, hey, can you bri- Hello? Murn?” Adrian tutted as he realised he’d been hung up on. He saw you standing in front of him out of his peripheral vision and started to walk towards your figure, though he stopped abruptly when he finally looked up from his phone and saw your murderous glare.
“You have so much fucking explaining to do, man” you demanded, punctuating your sentence with a toke. You watched the wheels turn in Adrians head as he weighed up his options.
He knew Murn would be cross if he spilled the beans, but what was he supposed to do now? You looked angry enough to start stabbing the answers out of him if he didn’t start fessing up soon, and after an incredibly long and stressful evening, the smoke that surrounded you smelled truly intoxicating.
Adrian soon relinquished, throwing his hands up in defeat.
“Okay, okay, fine! Just let me have some and i’ll tell you everything”
You flared your nostrils in annoyance. One of his hands started creeping towards you with that stupid little pinching motion again and you rolled your eyes as you handed him the roach and pulled out another joint.
“Oh man, where are we right now, Colorado?” Leota tutted. The second she slid the van doors open, the unmistakable scent of skunk permeated everything.
“Adebayo, Harcourt; with me, please.” Murn ordered, gracefully stepping out of the van. Harcourt followed wordlessly and just as gracefully, and Leota jumped out after them with a ‘yup!’.
“What about me?” Chris asked once Murn had left the van and turned the corner. He felt Economos clap a sympathetic hand over his shoulder and watched the bespectacled man hop out of the van, eventually following his lead once he realised he was in there alone.
As Economos walked ahead, he could hear two distinct voices sharing a conversation. It wasn’t perfectly clear as he listened from a distance, but he could hear that weird, unmistakable vocal quality one produces when speaking through an exhalation of smoke as the two of you talked.
“Holy fuck dude… And you’re sure you heard the gorilla talk? Like you weren’t just losing it?”
“No, no, dude, like fully formed sentences.”
Economos followed the sound of Adrian’s voice which took him past a big, ugly wooden divider and a slew of large garbage bins. Eventually, he found the brunette in the bus boy uniform, animatedly waving his hands around as he spoke to you. Economos was sharper than he let on - quickly deducting that you were the knife-wielding, butterfly-slaying Fennel Fields supervisor Adrian had alluded to.
Economos didn’t make his presence known yet, instead choosing to lean against a bin and enjoy the show, chuckling at how utterly baked the two of you sounded.
“Straight up, he was like ‘raaaaaaaagh, I’m gonna kill you guys, raaaaagh, Vigilante that’s such a cool chainsaw you’re so epic, raaaaaaghh, noooo don’t kill me with your epic chainsaw, Vigilante, raaaaaaaaagh’”
“Pretty sure I was the one with the chainsaw, man.” Economos jumped in, scaring the shit out of the two of you. You were quick to discern that this was one of Adrian’s ‘friends’, though that wasn’t too difficult to figure out, given Adrian’s halfhearted reaction of a lazy scoff.
“Nuh uh, I had it first, so I basically killed it with the chainsaw.” Adrian protested, glaring his red, glazy eyes towards Economos.
By this time, Chris had caught up to the group. He'd heard just enough context to know what was happening, and quickly stepped in to set the record straight.
“It was definitely Economos with the chainsaw, thimble.” he declared, crossing his arms over his chest after stepping closer to the conversation. You poorly held back your laughter and covered your mouth as a snort escaped your sinuses, which grabbed the attention of the two unnamed men.
“Thimble?” you squeaked jovially, wanting nothing more than confirmation on what you thought the nickname implied. Just as you’d hoped, the muscular one in the dumb costume lifted up a gloved hand and wiggled his pinky with a sneer.
You just couldn’t help it. The laughter came tumbling out of you in involuntary throes, your head thrown back in an attempt to gasp for air between loud, unapologetic guffaws. After the absurd sequence of events that evening, this was truly the cherry on top - a rare and perfect instance of divine timing.
“Don’t call me that, man! Uncool!” Adrian sulked, slamming his foot on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, as his face began to smoulder a bright, mortified red. Chris and Economos were quick to start chuckling too, finding your guttural laughter utterly contagious.
“Aw fuck, I guess Adrian’s a grower, not a shower then,” you wheezed, comically wiping the tears from under your eyes, “you know he got a boner watching me fuck those guys up?"
The two new men were quick to join you in full blown, eye watering hysterics as Adrian continued to sulk in the corner of the circle. You could hardly hear him attempt to defend himself over the loud cackles of the three of you. It wasn’t long before your caterwauling caught the attention of an intimidatingly stern, and admittedly beautiful, blonde woman.
“What’s so funny?” she deadpanned, her tone laced with impatience. Economos laid his hand on his chest in an attempt to finally let in some air, finally managing to spit out his words after a couple of hasty gasps,
“ADRIAN GREW A CHUBBY WATCHING HIS MANAGER KILL THOSE GUYS” he wheezed, reaching for his inhaler as you shook your head and Chris rubbed his forehead, all three of you still unable to stop laughing.
It would take months of getting to know Harcourt before one would even get lucky enough to see her crack a smile. But before you’d even been properly introduced, you watched as a coy smirk broke through her blank scowl, followed by a restrained snort of amusement.
“Jesus christ Adrian, you really are a little freak, huh” she chortled, finally breaking out into laughter as she watched the three of you silently convulse, lungs completely devoid of air
“Wh-, Th-They’re not my manager, okay, they’re my supervisor!” Adrian pouted, completely missing the essence of the joke.
Leota and Murn were soon coaxed closer by the laughter, and after a wheezy, mix-matched explanation from the four of you and much protest from Adrian, Leota was left politely hiding her amusement behind her hand as Murn continued to hide behind a straight face.
As the rest of you started to settle down, much to Adrian’s relief, Murn turned away to think. His eyes darted between the bodies on the floor, internally cringing at the sight of the butterfly you’d eviscerated with the sole of your shoe. He could feel the cogs turning in his head, forming a game plan, though it had yet to amalgamate into words.
He looked back at the group for a moment and focussed in on you as you absentmindedly pulled the butterfly knife from your back pocket and began to fiddle with it, flipping it between your fingers and letting it slice into the air before catching it effortlessly with so much as a quick glance. With nothing but a pair of sturdy boots and a shitty knife, you’d slain three butterflies with no thanks due to Vigilante. He had to keep his eye on you.
"You did all this?” he finally spoke, turning back to look right at you. You stood straight at his attention, feeling exposed and sheepish under his gaze.
“Yes sir,” you bowed your head soberly, before the THC took control of your brain again “Killed three guys to save this twerps life, and all I got was a lousy boner."
You heard a snort come from the bearded man and you watched as, who you assumed was their boss, shot him a deeply unsettling look.
“Sorry.” the bearded one muttered as you noticed the blonde one looking very amused by all this.
“Adebayo,” their boss spoke again, something about his voice rattling you, though you chalked it up to his commandeering tone, “Get Waller on the phone. I think we’ve just found our very own butterfly.”
“…And now you’re here” Economos concluded, threading his hands together over his stomach in satisfaction after finally concluding his catch up on everything that had happened to the task force until then.
The rest of the gang turned to face you as you sat behind them in the very back of the van. Your mouth was agape and your head was shaking back and forth like a hula figurine on the dashboard of a semi truck. Adrian was sat next to you, watching you with the same expression you carried trying to comprehend Economos’ catch-up. He was still far too stoned to bother closing his mouth, and his hazy mind wanted to do nothing else but soak in your features and enjoy the way his body tingled when he looked at you.
Unable to form a coherent thought about the ridiculous, borderline-unfathomable information you were just presented with, you spoke the only clear thought in your mind;
“I should not have smoked that last jay, dude…"
Leota was first to react, wheezing out a surprised, mildly impressed laugh as everyone else began to shake their heads at your oddly underwhelming reaction. Harcout tutted as she looked between you and Adrian, who until then, was in another world entirely as he continued to gawk shamelessly at your side profile. Trying to keep himself out of the confrontation this time, he poorly attempted to jump sides,
“Wh- You’re high right now?” he squeaked in your direction, doing a horrible job of acting disappointed. Harcourt was quick to pull him up on his hypocrisy,
“Adrian, you were literally holding the doobie when we showed up, don’t try it right now.”
Adrian opened his mouth to defend himself further, but he was cut short by Murn’s stern voice as he posed the inevitable question everyone was waiting for.
“So are you in, or not?”
You thought for a moment, confused at why he would want a jaded, burnt out, chain-restaurant-supervising stoner with anger issues on their team so badly.
“Am I even qualified to work for some secret government organisation?” you asked. Leota smirked at your question, she’d been weighing up your vibe all night, but your no-frills, no-bullshit attitude had finally won her over - she knew she was going to like you.
“Black ops,” Murn corrected you, “According to the government, we don’t exist. Last time I checked, you don’t need any qualifications for a job that doesn’t exist.”
You paused for a moment longer. You had absolutely nothing keeping you in your current state of affairs. Hell, you’d sign up for just about anything to get away from it. The problem was, that this wasn’t just about anything. This was real. This was dangerous. Fuck, from the way they described it, this was god damned extraterrestrial.
This was deep, top secret, black ops government shit. Deep, top secret, black ops government shit that you now knew a lot about. What if you knew too much? What would they do to you if you said no? You wouldn’t be surprised in the least if they all pulled out sunglasses and Murn flashed you with one of those thingies like they do in Men In Black. You had no idea what to expect anymore.
“Fuck,” you sighed, running a sweaty hand over your sobering face, “Do I have a choice?”
Murn spent no time pretending to mull it over, and answered with a blunt ‘No’.
“Well then, I guess it looks like I’m joining the X Files!”
✦ ₊ ˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦ .˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ₊ ˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ˚ ♡ . ₊ ✦
vigilante taglist: @redpool @lothiriel9 @darththrog @kingdindjarin @trash--blog @bbwithaknife @nottobegaybutmen @torchbearerkyle @666abby6666 @allukanezuko
Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 15
Slim shady’s back whores.
Cult Girl returns from the opera to find someone has been in her house.
Trigger warnings: home invasion, slight violence, violent ideation, police ineptitude
"Mrs. DeMarco really needs to keep her oils to herself." You commented with a laugh as Hannibal pulled into the driveway. "She mentioned geranium oil and I swear it looked like you were having a war flashback."
“I can’t imagine a multi-level marketing scheme that peddles watered-down napalm is very profitable.” Hannibal commented, busying himself with the daunting task of backing into the garage. "But then again, it's not the product that sells. It's the sense of belonging."
"Hey, that's what I said!" You noticed. "You do listen when I talk!"
"Why wouldn't I?" Hannibal asked, rhetorically. "You spent the better part of two weeks on that research proposal."
You planted your elbow against the window and rested your head in your hand. "Still didn't result in jack about dick."
"[F/N]?" Hannibal asked, perking up like a Doberman hearing a branch snap in the distance. "Did we leave the porch light on?"
You looked over and saw that the porch light was, indeed, on; even though you had no memory of turning it on.
"That's weird." You said, ready to dismiss it as something you did subconsciously and forgot about. "I don't remember turning it on because it was still light out when we left."
You unbuckled your seatbelt and put your hand on the door, but Hannibal stopped you.
"Just a minute." He said, his hand hovering protectively over your bump. "Something's not right."
Perhaps it was just the power of suggestion or Hannibal's sudden but very convicted fear, but you felt yourself growing hesitant. He pulled himself out of the car and hurried up to the porch with the energy of a man half his age. Although he wasn't the most expressive of people, you could tell from his body language that something was very wrong.
Against your better judgement, you threw the door open and rushed to take a look for yourself. You slowly approached his silhouette, which was backlit by the glow of small, smoldering flames. The smell of burning grass hit your nostrils before you could identify it as such.
Hannibal kept you protectively behind him, though wouldn't begrudge you a look. At first, it was almost laughable. Generic vandalism, the word 'slut' written on the brick in comically bright red lipstick. A few patches of burnt grass on the lawn showed the vandal's hesitation to just commit to arson.
You rolled your eyes. "Wow. Scary."
You attempted to take a step forward, but Hannibal put his arm out in front of you. With a small, almost unnoticeable gesture of his head, he urged you to look again.
The picture came into focus. In the dark of the night, you couldn't see the trail of fake, albeit convincing, blood at your feet. Still cringeworthy, but you'd give some points for effort. It led all the way down the driveway, up the porch and through the door-
Through the door.
Your heart fell into your stomach acid. Hannibal took your hand in his and gave it a tight squeeze. With his protection, you took a few steps closer.
The door was broken off its hinges and the inside was destroyed. Everything that wasn't overturned, smashed or otherwise demolished was covered in a sticky, pungent bloody substance. You grew more and more convinced of its authenticity by the minute.
Then you saw the eevee.
On the kitchen table, the plush eevee you bought at the gamestop was--for lack of a better term--flayed. Someone had cut her open down the stomach and removed as much stuffing as they could. Her head was expertly, carefully removed from her body and tossed haphazardly to the side. Her large, embroidered eyes and little smile reflected an innocence that the invader reveled in violating.
After a moment of thought, you realized it was a preview of what they'd eventually do to you, but you didn't care.
"My eevee..." you whimpered, feeling a lump rise in your throat.
Hannibal squeezed your shoulders. He knew what that eevee represented to you, and more importantly, knew better than to invalidate your feelings. You both knew who broke in: someone familiar with your accumulation of comfort items with enough malice to rip them apart.
You felt the telltale sting of tears in the corners of your eyes. You approached the table and gathered up the pieces of your eevee, being sure to hold her tight against your chest.
The police were on the scene in minutes; that was to be expected for such a posh neighborhood. Blue and red lights illuminated street. Neighbors peeked out their windows and drivers rubber-necked to get a glimpse as they passed by. You sat on the front porch, clutching your eevee in your arms.
A balding man wearing Kevlar stepped squarely into your line of sight, not even bothering to greet you. You looked up at him, feeling like a child about to be scolded. “Yes?”
“Well, there’s no sign of a break-in.” He said, full confidence.
“The lock on the front door was broken.” You deadpanned. “How is that not a sign of a break-in?”
“Well, real criminals aren’t so careful.” He mansplained, tucking his hands into his vest. “Listen, your husband said that it was probably your jealous sister getting back at you for something.”
“I guarantee you that is not what he said.”
“--Nothing was stolen or even that badly damaged.” He interrupted, again, with full confidence. "Sure, a little extreme for a prank-"
Then it was your turn to cut him off. "It wasn't a prank. My psychotic cousin is trying to terrorize my fiancee and I. She destroyed a toy I bought for my daughter!"
"Oh, she broke a toy, did she?" The officer said with a condescending chuckle. "Well, we're gonna need some serious backup! Let's get a SWAT team out here. Call the FBI, while we're at it."
You glared at him, every expletive in the English language pouring into your brain at once. You recalled an old adage about if looks could kill.
"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do, ma'am." He concluded. "Just replace your lock and try to not make your family drama the state's problem, okay, sweetie?"
You watched the officer drive off into the night, trying to determine whether or not you were surprised by how that went down.
"I suddenly find myself in the mood for some kind of pork dish." Hannibal said, materializing behind you just in time to vocalize your inner monologue.
When you said nothing, Hannibal knelt down beside you. "I've searched the house. Your cousin isn't smart or ambitious enough to put us in any real danger. It's safe to go inside. I promise."
"Did you ever watch the show Dexter?" You asked. Your brain was on autopilot, so you weren't entirely sure why you'd thought to ask that.
Hannibal, who undoubtedly caught your drift immediately, but was feigning ignorance to encourage you, shook his head. "No."
"S'about a serial killer who only kills bad people." You explained. "Watching it, I always thought, damn. Even if they are bad people, how could you have the strength to take another person's life?"
"Oh?" He said. You vividly remember a slight, but noticeable upturn in his voice. "And what has changed?"
"When you realize how little a person values innocent life..." you began. "You just wanna... turn it back on 'em."
You didn't notice it at the time, but Hannibal had the proudest expression on his face. "Yes, my love?"
"I'm going to kill Anna." You said, feeling clear in the mind for the first time in a while. "And I want to do it right, this time. Purposefully."