CH3: Descent into Hell

“You’re late, Nathaniel,” Riko said as he took up his spot on the court.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” Neil said, sneering, once Riko was out of ear-shot.

Then the buzzer then sounded, and Neil felt his mind shifting into all things exy. He planted his feet, knowing Jean was directly across from him. The buzzer went off again, and Neil truly smiled. He knew exactly what he was doing.

—

The game went over as smooth as can be. The Ravens were overly aggressive and the opposing team cowered as they lost. It finished with Neil sending a pass to Riko that settled the score 19-0. He and Jean, like they always do, didn’t let any goals–it wasn’t even a near thing. Seriously, the lack of faith Riko had in them was pathetic.

For the handshakes after the game, Riko was smiling. Not his I’m going to enjoy cutting into you smile, but his I scored well over half the goals in this game and I’m trying to act like I’m not better than you… when I’m clearly better than you smile.

So, with Riko sitting on his high horse, Tetsuji sent him, Jean, and Neil off to the press. They were walking out of the court as Riko sauntered into the press room when Jean bumped his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Jean asked.

“Yeah. Just worried about the press,” Neil responded. Jean knew how high the stakes were for the press that night. Neil watched his brows furrow, concern edging itself across his forehead. Neil shrugged in response, looking up at Jean with confidence. “I’m fine, Jean.”

“I know,” he said. Jean’s eyes darkened and Neil could tell that he said the wrong answer. “We can watch a movie tonight, if you want. Some French films that you hate.” Neil smiled. To Jean’s knowledge, this would be the first time that Neil would have to talk about Kevin, likely watch videos of Kevin, and get berated with questions since he left the Nest.

“Are there monsters under your bed again, Jean?” Neil asked.

“I was just saying,” Jean mumbled and Neil smiled at his palpable annoyance.

“I’m fine,” Neil responded. Jean raised an eyebrow in a very, ‘Are you sure?’ type of way. Neil shrugged. “I’m a big boy, Jean.”

“Yes, but that is still new,” he said. Neil rolled his eyes at the insinuation.

“Angel, I have been dumped before,” Neil said. Well, at least figuratively, by multiple people in his life.

“Not by Kevin,” Jean responded. Neil knew what he meant, yet didn’t want to think long on it. No one just dated Kevin. Day didn’t date—you were either in a relationship, or you weren’t. And Neil, swinging how he does, didn’t do one-time things. He found no point in them. That was why their relationship worked out so well. Because when they were in a relationship, they were in a relationship. Neil and Kevin had known each other for almost thirteen years–since Neil went to the Nest.

“No,” Neil said, “not by Kevin.” Neil looked up at him to show him that he was fine. “I can handle it. I have for the past two years. The process is still the same.” Jean clenched his jaw and Neil could tell that he was clearly losing this battle. “Don’t worry, I’m cool.”

“Oh, I know you are cool,” Jean said.

“I’m not as sappy as you are, French bastard.” Jean scoffed and shot his eyes skyward, and though Neil knew that Jean didn’t believe he was alright, they were better.

“Shut up, you annoying human being. Just for that, we are going to watch French films. In black and white, nonetheless.” Neil groaned, despite knowing that would never happen.

Actually, that would never happen again.

Neil shut down that thought as quickly as it entered his head. He knew that he would break too soon if he thought that. Jean will be in a better place, with the Jeremy ‘fucking ray of sunshine, contagious happiness, and team health—along with mental health—is of utmost priority’ Knox in LA. Neil knew everything was a two-way mirror, but he figured it was a good place to start. Well, if all went according to plan.

“Moreau, Wesninski,” Tetsuji snapped. Both Neil and Jean slightly flinched, though no one but themselves would be able to tell. “Get in the press room, now. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Yes, Master,” Neil said. Jean bowed, and his elbow shot out to Neil’s ribcage a second later to make him do so also.

“Asshole,” Neil whispered.

“Nathaniel,” Tetsuji said. “Not another word. I’ll see you in my office later if so. Now go, both of you.” Neil and Jean started to walk away, backs straight and completely in their Raven mind-set again. “Three and Four.” They both paused and looked over their shoulders. “That performance was adequate. We need to work on that.”

Need to work on that my ass, Neil thought.

“Our apologies, Master,” Neil said. “We will fix it.”

They didn’t allow for a single goal to pass them and they still sucked. Would they ever be good enough? Neil didn’t even know why he asked himself such a stupid question.

Neil wondered, not for the first time, if that had been what Kevin felt on a daily basis–especially the year before he left the Nest. Neil knew it was, but Kevin had it on an entirely new level of insanity—degrading remarks, public humiliation, abuse, forced self harm. Even the thought made Neil see red.

They both nodded and went down the black and red hallway to the press room. Jean opened the door and they walked in, taking their ‘rightful places’ by Riko’s side.

“We will now take questions and comments. Nathaniel, you can start,” Tetsuji said. Nathaniel – no matter how many times he did it, even disregarding the temper tantrums Riko often threw after – honestly hated doing press. He smiled. The three of them, to the innocent eye, looked like they were standing on top of the world. Best college team in the country and arguably three of the best exy players out there. Now, would Riko be considered in that list if Neil and Jean weren’t handing him passes all of the time… they’ll never know. Well, actually, Nathaniel planned to expose that eventually.

He was going down to Hell pretty soon, especially when Jean leaves, and he planned to drag Riko with him. Neil didn’t care if he got burned or killed in the process. He wasn’t going to die, however, without taking away everything Riko loved first. And that starts with exy. Neil, as brilliant as he was, would be putting that plan into motion that night: Jean getting out of the Nest. Everyone with half a brain cell knew that Jean was one of the best backliners in the country, and Neil knew that he could be the best if he wasn’t beaten to Hell and back every other day.

“Yes?” Neil asked, making eye contact with a reporter in the front row.

“Amazing game, Nathaniel. All three of you are unstoppable on the court. Could you shed some light on your training?” they asked. Neil slightly relaxed at the basic question, knowing Tetsuji likely paid them.

“Thank you very much. The Ravens are just what people think we are. A group of people that have an unbelievable love and dedication for exy. And without our amazing captain, that is all we would be—college students that like to play. With Riko Moriyama’s encouraging and concise leadership, and our brilliant coach, Tetsuji, they are able to form us into a well-oiled machine. Into a team that is unstoppable on the court, and a family off of it,” Neil lied. He went through his mental checklist: acknowledged the players, said the Ravens were the best, gave all of the fucking credit to Riko, referenced the petty uncle, and died a little bit inside.

Yep, he got everything.

As usual, Jean took the next question. It was about his technique, and he responded according to the checklist, also. Then Riko took most of the questions, luckily. They answered the typical questions on Kevin, and didn’t give them any more information. Neil held his breath hoping that was all they would ask about Kevin.

Near the end of the press conference, a reporter from the back elbowed their way to the front and Neil felt his stomach drop.

“Number one,” he called. “Riko.”

“Yes?” Riko asked, all sharp smiles.

“There is rumor that Kevin Day has signed with the Foxes to play next year. Do you think that he will pose a threat to your team as he might be the best striker in all of exy?” the reporter asked. Neil saw Jean tense in his periphery. Neil didn’t need to see Riko’s expression to know that tight-lipped smile, fists clenched in his pockets, and eyes that were ready to draw blood. He let his hand fall to the small of Jean’s back, an empty gesture of support.

Riko’s hand then found its way to Neil’s opposite shoulder, his nails digging into the flesh there. Neil clenched his teeth against the sting.

“I am very happy that Kevin has managed to recover enough from his unfortunate accident. I want him to play and be the best player he can be,” Riko paused, and Neil gazed into the cameras, knowing a general idea of what Riko would say next. “It is going to be very hard, though, watching my brother make another useless attempt at playing. Having been so close with him… I don’t want to see him go out and fail because I know he will. I just want to protect him, and no matter how far away he is. Because, Kevin, you are never out of my reach.”

Neil looked off to the corner of the room, away from the reporters. The stupid, idiotic press were nearly tearing up at Riko’s love and devotion to his brother. Neil and Jean—and certainly Kevin—knew exactly what Riko meant. Riko declared that Kevin was still directly under his thumb, no matter how many states away he went, and he could still reach him. If Kevin didn’t surrender now, Riko would ensure that he suffered to every end.

Like Hell Neil would let that happen.

Neil knew Kevin better than anyone. He knew Kevin’s dedication like the back of his hand. It wouldn’t be amazing from the start, and Kevin would undoubtedly work harder than most people can even imagine, but he will not fail. Kevin had a passion for exy that rivaled Neil’s.

Kevin would go all in and wouldn’t let himself fail. He had a support team that wouldn't let him fail. Neil wouldn’t let him fail.

When Kevin and Neil trained together a few years ago, they always said that it’s either everything they have or nothing at all. Both of them had–and still do have–a hard time putting in less than 150%, and it’s completely unproductive if they try to. There are good and bad sides to that, but it was all or nothing for them. Either max out on effort or none at all.

“I am sorry to interrupt,” Jean said, flashing a smile across the room. “Yet we have a win to celebrate. We wish every other team the best of luck and thank our opponent today for putting up an enjoyable fight. Excuse us.”

A timer went off in Neil’s head.

Minute one.

As the three walked towards the door and into the hallways, Neil popped his head back into the press room.

“And one more thing,” Neil said, watching as every camera turned towards him. “For Kevin Day: no regrets–” Neil felt a hand on the back of his jersey rip him from the room.

There was a non-zero chance that Neil would die that night. He knew that. But non-zero was still a number.

—

Minute two.

Riko wrapped his arm around Neil’s waist, successfully crushing him to his side. Riko leaned in, his breath right on Neil’s ear, making him want to cringe away.

“Oh, Nathaniel. That was very stupid,” Riko growled. “I’m going to have fun with you tonight. You’ll be begging before the clock strikes 12, and at that point, we would have only started.” Neil turned to look at him. “I heard Nathan is good at dragging out torture, no?” Neil went cold.

“How poetic,” he responded.

“In the locker room, Wesninski,” Riko said, shoving Neil against the wall and storming off. Neil knew that he had ten seconds—at most—before Riko came looking for him, so he turned a serious expression on Jean.

“Are you okay, mon cheri?” Jean asked. Neil nodded in return.

“Jean. Tetsuji told me to send you to the cars.” Confusion spread across Jean’s face but Neil didn’t have time for questions. “He said something about Court or sponsors wanting to talk to you. That’s why I was a minute late to the game.”

“Why are you not coming?” Jean asked. Neil feigned innocence.

“I don’t know. You’re hotter, I guess,” Neil said. “No idea, Jean. Riko is about to march his petty ass right back out here and beat my ass to the ground–”

“More reason as to why I should not be leaving right now–” Neil knew he was running out of time. He stepped closer to Jean as some of his teammates passed in the hallway and pinned him with his gaze.

“I’m more than confident in Riko’s ability to torture both of us. Go, Jean. Tetsuji is going to be pissed at you, and then me, if you’re late.” Jean nodded seriously, giving Neil that look he always had when he didn’t want to leave Neil alone. Jean grabbed Neil and pulled him into his chest, putting his nose to his hair and breathing. Neil refused to show how much pain that one gesture put him in. Jean let go and walked away without looking back. He was a stoic, cold asshole, in all honesty.

You didn’t survive in the Nest if you turned back. You couldn’t care about people. That was how it always worked.

Neil figured that he hadn’t thought about the full implications of his actions as he watched Jean walk away. He thought about everything that mattered. Yet, like per usual, he couldn’t—well, more like refused—to think about the impact it would have on himself. It was just like everyone said; they were partners. They won together, they lost together, they triumphed together, and they were beaten together. Every loss was their own, every pain shared. They matched bloody scar for bloody scar.

Neil shook his head as if trying to get the thoughts out of it.

Neil made his way to the locker room and figured that he would have an easier time explaining why his eyes were red after he took a few punches. He didn’t have time to think about Jean leaving.

Minute three.

Neil swung open the doors to the locker room.

“Riko,” Neil called. “Just because Kevin is bett–”

And Nathaniel was thrown against the metal lockers.

Sometimes, Nathaniel thought, Riko was just too easy.

—

Andrew Minyard contemplated how he got himself into that situation. Honestly, he did not have the mental capacity to see past his manic haze and figure out that reason. Did it drive him to absolutely no end? Yes. Was it even more frustrating when the artificial chemicals in his brain tried to switch topics the second he got deep enough in his own thoughts to make progress?

More… than… anything.

His mind kept him on the surface, and Andrew didn’t have the luck in life to only see the surface in every situation.

Including the one he was in right now.

Especially the one he was in now.

Trying to avoid mama bird as he descended from the top of the tree and into the Nest.

Mr. Kevin Day—himself—asked Andrew if he would go in and save a little no-name birdie from all of the bad traumas. Though, if he had been there as long as Kevin said he had, the birdie was well on his way to being in a mental hospital before next Christmas.

Do they celebrate Christmas in the Nest? Probably not, right?

Well, maybe there is a different holiday they celebrate.

Possibly Easter. There was some satirical irony about birds that Andrew didn’t bother to figure out.

Andrew finished his descent into Hell and looked around. Kevin really wasn’t kidding about all of the back. Andrew, because he wanted to, only wore black, but there was something about the black of the Nest that was more suffocating than relieving.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Andrew thought. Ha.

Andrew tried to shove out his drug mania as he walked through the Nest, looking for a certain redhead. That had been all Mr. Day had told him about this rescue trip he was currently executing. Andrew hadn’t even let the thought of Kevin going in himself pass his mind, yet once Kevin showed more spine than Andrew had ever seen in him, he reluctantly agreed.

Was it because he was slightly curious about this no-name redhead birdie that seemed to remind Kevin of ghosts every time he was mentioned? There was something about this specific birdie that even Jean and Kevin didn’t have. Something that Andrew couldn’t quite figure out yet. They hadn’t seen each other in almost two years, Andrew knew that much.

His mind snapped back into the present when he noticed Tetsuji walking down the corridor. Luckily, the bird tamer turned before he noticed Andrew.

He remembered everything Kevin told him with his mind’s stunning accuracy—a blessing and a curse. Kevin told him that the redhead would be behind the second door on the left of the perfect court’s hallways. Andrew weaved his way through the Nest, honestly hating every minute of it. There was something about the Nest that sent so many alarm bells off in his head. And with the right reason.

Andrew arrived at a red hallway with black doors, too many to be the perfect court. He continued until the hallway bifurcated. The right side headed to the hallway that led to the court, Andrew assumed, and the left had a different kind of hallway. It was all black, with four red doors.

Andrew then noticed a flaw in their already majorly-flawed plan. The hallway opened at both ends, which would mean that the left side could be either, depending on where you stood.

He clenched his fists and stared at them. His drug induced mania was at its final edge of his consciousness, almost fully out of his mind. Andrew felt that clarity already and sighed in relief. He knew he had about thirty minutes before the nausea kicked in.

He was swimming in time.

Oh, which to choose. There was a 25% chance of choosing the right door, and then about a 33% chance after that if it turned out to be the wrong one, and then an even better chance if that turned out to be the wrong door and he switched.

One door was propped open, but Andrew assumed mama birdie liked to play with his hens out of sight, out of mind. Maybe, though, breeding flightless birds wasn’t the best way to stay inconspicuous.

Unless Riko was into humiliation. Andrew would have to check his porn-hub history.

Then someone screamed behind one of the doors and Andrew’s whole body tensed. He drew his eyes to the last door on his right and knew that his chances just neared 100% accuracy.

The problem was not only the scream itself, but that type of scream. It was agony, it was pain–it was someone pushing his head into a pillow.

Andrew’s hand was on the door in seconds and he shoved it open so aggressively that it crashed against the back wall with a bang.

The following sight—half a second, at most—would be embedded into Andrew’s head for the rest of eternity. It wasn’t like he could block it out.

Riko had someone who he assumed to be redhead face down on a black bed. Redhead’s hands were cuffed and crossed at the headboard, both ankles chained to bottom posts on the bed. Riko was straddling the back of Redhead’s thighs, the hilt of one knife in his mouth so he could transfer his other knife to his right hand. The truly sickening sight that had Andrew questioning if his drugs had worn off a long time ago, was Redhead’s back. There were light and deep gashes, thin and wide ones, short and long slices. The blood to skin ratio had to be at least 2:1. Redhead was bleeding to the point where it completely saturated the top of the mattress and was dripping off the black frame of the bed, making a constant tip, tip, tip, sound on the floor.

Andrew was starting to understand all of the black. And his mind was able to get all of that in less than a second. A beautiful curse.

Andrew threw himself at Riko before he had the pleasure of noticing, his own knives slipping into his hand. Andrew swung right for Riko’s face, having the advantage of surprise, anger, and so much more skill. A slash cut across Riko’s right cheekbone, causing him to drop his own knife onto Redhead’s back with a resounding splat. Riko’s hands flew to his face and Andrew swung again, cutting across his fingers before grabbing Riko’s shoulders and throwing him on the floor.

Anger was coursing through Andrew’s veins, making him feel high on something other than chemicals.

Andrew pulled Riko up by his hair, then his collar, and slammed his back into the post of the bed. Andrew knelt and put a knife directly on Riko’s jugular, wanting to see the fear in his eyes as he realized he was going to die.

“I will see you in Hell,” Andrew said, pressing the knife in slowly enough for him to feel it. If Riko deserved anything in life, it was a slow death.

“Stop,” someone croaked. Andrew froze his knife, barely a centimeter into Riko’s flesh, and flashed his eyes towards Redhead. He truly looked two seconds from passing out.

“You cannot possibly be telling me to stop,” Andrew said. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t have to listen to you, and I have reason to kill him.” Riko tried to speak and Andrew pressed the knife a little deeper.

“If you kill him, I will die,” Redhead said.

“How convenient,” Andrew responded. “I have yet to hear a valid reason to stop.”

“If he dies, the Moriyamas would have no use for me. They would kill me, and likely Kevin,” Redhead breathed. “No Ravens, no money, no use.”

Andrew clenched his jaw, staring Riko down. He remembered his promises, and wouldn't break them. But he also thought that the world was a much better place with one less dictator. Well, he supposed he could postpone his killing. Despite not knowing the redhead, Andrew knew that he was right.

“Just this once,” Andrew intoned to Riko. “But I do promise–and I truly mean this–that I will kill you next time I get the chance.” Riko looked to be seething in anger.

“You–” he started.

“Shut up.” Andrew then swung a fist for Riko’s face. His skull rebounded off the metal post behind his head, effectively knocking him out. Andrew had been trying to concave his nose, but he figured that unconsciousness and the immediate swelling around Riko’s face was enough.

For now.

Andrew really hated him.

“Minyard,” Redhead called. “Back left pocket. There should be a pair of keys.”

And Andrew felt nauseated again, yet for an entirely different reason. He then looked over at the redhead and locked eyes.

Only one thought popped into Andrew’s head at that moment.

Run, boy. Run.

---