Chapter 12: House Invasion
April 27th, 1994
Vanessa and Johnny Phoenix stared at the coal-black gates protecting the golden, seven-foot mansion the Maroni family resides in. Johnny had Nessa put on a black beret — in case she gets cold.
His little sister wears dark sunglasses and a black bomber jacket; the zebra-striped turtleneck covers her tank top, while her denim jeans and combat boots warm her legs and feet.
Though she carries a small backpack filled with small knives and firearms, Nessa is busy tightening the silencer attached to her handgun.
Johnny, on the other hand, wears a black suit, a biker jacket, and burnt black loafers. For this special mission, Johnny adorns a ski mask with a white skull on it.
Looking at Johhny's outfit, Nessa scoffed a laugh.
"Jesus Christ, you look like a fucking sumo wrestler," she sniggered.
Ignoring Nessa's insult, Johnny tells her to wear her gloves.
"Hey, did you take care of the cameras?"
His sister nods. She pulls her dark gray gloves from her pockets and put them on.
"Yeah," she sighs. "I also took out those stupid guards."
"Say what?" Johnny peers through the bars to see the bodies of Mr. Maroni's security guards lying on the grass. "I wanted to take the guards! God, why are you so fucking greedy?"
"Because you are the worst shooter in the family, Johnny," Nessa states flatly.
"No, I am not."
Nessa bobs her head. "You kinda are."
Johnny flashes her a tight-lipped smile.
"You said the same thing when I was practicing my British accent," he says, pulling on his black woolen gloves. "You even called me Dick Van Dyke."
The thirteen-year-old girl grasps her hand around his shoulder, then asserts in a condescending tone: "Johnny, I'm your sister. It's my job to insult you."
In response, Johnny pinches her left cheek and twists it like a doorknob.
"Ow, quit it!" whined Nessa. "I'm not a little kid anymore!"
"Nope," he temporarily removes his black ski mask and kisses his younger sister on the forehead. "You're just a nagging pain in the ass."
Nessa sticks her small tongue at her brother, while Johnny puts his mask back on.
"Well, whatever." she groans. "Are you ready to do this or not?"
Her brother sighs, lifting his katana off his right shoulder. "Alright, we break into the house, kill every single person in the house except Vito Corleone."
Johnny scowls at her then adds: "Make sure you don't do it in front of the kids."
Nessa did a snort, pointing her gun to the floor.
"I doubt the monster has kids, except that Vincent guy," she angrily mutters to Johnny. "Let's go, before I lose a wink of sleep."
Grabbing her hand, Johnny teleports Nessa to the house where they initiate their schemes. One by one, the siblings assassinate the Maroni crime family.
Nessa uses a silencer to take them out.
Whistling birds mask the audacious noise of the gunshot as the sleeping family inhales their last breath.
Johnny, on the other hand, subdues the roaming aunts and uncles before he kills them. Some he had seen on the news; the others didn't involve in the family business, but he made sure no one lays their grubby hands on the community.
After severing Mr. Maroni's obnoxious father-in-law, Johnny hears impeding footsteps gaining near the rooms. He ran his stubby fingers across the cold metal as if he was trying to get warm.
"We have been hearing a couple of loud gunshots." one of them grunted. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but—"
In a brief second, Johnny slits the goon's thick neck.
Blood spews on the floor, scaring the security guards' friends. They lower their hands away from their coms wedge inside their ears. Eyes widen; their lips turn into gnarled frowns.
"Who the fuck are you?" barked one of the angered goons. "Are you some kind of hitman?"
Johnny rolls his eyes. "Well, I am not rooming service."
He tosses his sheath on the floor, then slaughters three men. Blood splatter and severed bones. Johnny stabs the goon's abdomen with his black katana, before slashing the heads of the lieutenants clean off.
Satisfied with the dead bodies, Johnny retrieves his sheath. Dark brown eyes sparkle with sheer annoyance, as he wonders why Brooke is hanging around with these deranged animals.
Then, unexpectedly, two bodyguards leap into the scene, firing their AK-47s at the boy. Golden bullet shells shower on the floor like heavy rain.
But much to their complete shock, the golden yellow projectiles glide through Johnny's body as if he was some sort of vengeful spirit.
He didn't bleed or fall on the floor; he just stood there, glaring at the bullet holes in his black jacket.
"What the fuck?" Johnny growled. "Do you know how much this vintage jacket costs?"
Dropping his black sheath on the floor, the boy angrily discards the bodyguards with ease. After eliminating them, the teenage boy listens to his little sister's silencer go off.
She kills aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, wives, grandmothers, grandfathers, and cousins. But when her guns ran out of bullets, Nessa whips her knives from her sleeves and severed their vocal cords.
Meanwhile, Johnny searches for Mr. Maroni. He examines the large floors, invades the bedrooms, and interrogates the remaining guards and family members.
However, the victims were hopeless. As for the rotten Vincent Maroni, the boy was nowhere to be found.
Around 6:30 p.m., the tireless search begins to end when Johnny found Mr. Maroni walking out of the bathroom. He wears a red bathrobe with a golden flower sewn on his right breast pocket.
Gripping the hilt of his sword, and irritated Johnny walks up behind the overweight mobster, then hovers his blade across Mr. Maroni's hefty neck.
"Scream and I will cut your goddamn throat." he threatened in Mr. Maroni's left ear. The criminal father hoists his hands in the dense air, completely mortified.
"Holy fucking shit," he breathed. "What the hell is this?"
Johnny ignores the crime boss.
He teleports himself and Mr. Maroni to a black convertible car, where Johnny cocks his handgun and points it at Mr. Maroni's head.
"Where the hell is Brooke?"
The boy smacks Mr. Maroni on the back of his head.
"Brooke Amethyst King," Johnny growls.
Tears ran down Mr. Maroni's horrified face, as he stares at his reflection on the cool glass.
"I don't know where she is!" he sputters.
Johnny lowers his sharp blade away from Mr. Maroni's thick neck. The boy begins to debate whether he should kill him until Nessa returns from the Maroni bloodbath.
"Hey, Johnny," Nessa whispered. "I need to talk to you."
Her brother swerves his head to meet the girl's hazel-colored eyes. "What the hell do you want?"
Nessa angrily pulls Johnny out of the car with her hand and shows him the photographs.
"I found these in this clown's top right drawer," she growls.
Johnny peers at the photos to see naked teen girls doing awkward poses on a white bed.
"What the hell?" he cringed. "Who the fuck would do this to a bunch of little girls?"
"Yeah," Nessa sighs, bobbing her head in agreement. "Turns out he's into young women."
Examining the Polaroid photos once more, Johnny shoves them into Nessa's hands.
"Stay right here," he instructed. "I'll take care of this asshole."
But Nessa refused; she stands her ground and tells Johnny that she wants to help.
"Hey," yelled Johnny. "Didn't I tell you to scram?"
"Before Mom and Dad dropped us off to Idlewild," he began. "Do you know the first thing Dad told us? Never leave each other behind!"
Johnny stares down at his baby sister.
He wanted to say something until he catches Mr. Maroni leaving the car. His bare feet on moist grass. The flexible string from his red bathrobe danced in the breeze, as the horrified crime boss screams for help. But Johnny coldly shoots him in the legs.
"Oh God!" he breathes anxiously.
Mr. Maroni tries to pry open the garage door with his hands when Nessa hurls a knife past the old man's long nose and into the metal door.
"Holy shit!" he sputtered. "What the hell was that?"
Nessa smiled, "Just giving you a heads up."
Mr. Maroni swivels his head to see a spiteful Johnny and Nessa glaring down at him. Their brown eyes sparkle with malice. Hands clutch onto loaded guns and pictures of Maroni's devious crimes.
"What do you kids fucking want?" he cried.
A disgruntled Johnny tosses the small Polaroids in the man's face. "Is this what you fucking do?" he yells. "Take photos of little girls?"
Mr. Maroni takes one steady look at the pictures then stutters, "these are not mine. I—"
"Then why were they in your fucking dresser drawer?" Nessa growls, cutting him off. "That's fucked up, man."
Johnny points the handgun between Mr. Maroni's eyes, making his sister's smile grow.
"Any last words, pervert?" asked Nessa.
The frightened crime boss crawls away from Johnny's gun when a loud POP echoes across the sky.
Brooke shoots up from her bed, gasping for air. She pushes her nappy hair away from the brown eyes, then switches on the lights. Sweat spread across pillows, bed sheets, and blankets.
Switching on the lights, Brooke picks up her large sketchbook from the floor and examine the drawings of Johnny and Nessa invading the Maroni mansion.
Pencils, erasers, and colored pencils roll along the floor as Brooke retrieves her glass of water and drank it all in one gulp.
"Fuck," she thinks to herself. "What the hell did you guys do?"
Brooke casts the illustration a wary glance, then rips it out of her book.
She had a vision about her friends killing the Maroni clan, but she didn't imagine it would be this late.
Jesus Christ, Brooke thinks. What the hell did you guys do?
With Mr. Maroni gone, Brooke has no chance against Vincent. He's insane, but he is not stupid. He has a body count as long as Headmaster Prometheus.
The girl bows her head. Ever since she came home, Brooke's head has gotten sore. She doesn't know if it's a horrible headache or not, but she is desperate to grab ahold of some aspirin from the medicine cabinet. However, her legs are tired; and she can't look at her parents without hating herself.
Pinching her forehead, Brooke collapse on the bed. She thought about Vincent and the agony burning his face. For now, she will have to put aside her anger at her friends and figure out a way to stop Vincent from finding them.
The next morning, the siblings are in their motel room, eating breakfast and watching the news. Nessa's curly brown hair is in a bright pink scrunchie. She wears a purple Pearl Jam t-shirt and red shorts.
"This is bullshit." she pouts, chewing her Fruit Loops cereal. "We could have gotten that dough."
Johnny sighs in frustration. He slides into a black Soundgarden t-shirt and dark gray pajamas.
He chomps on his whole wheat donut, then muffled, "Can you not focus on the award money and do your homework?"
Ever since the news caught last night's massacre, the cops have been searching for two unknown vigilantes prowling through the streets of Hollyoaks.
Johnny and Nessa ate calmly, showing no signs of remorse for their actions.
"If Mom and Dad found out about this," he moans anxiously. "I will never get Stevie Vaughan's guitar—"
"Oh my God," growled Nessa. "Will you forget about that piece of junk for two goddamn seconds?"
Unexpectedly, the phone let out a loud ring.
The Phoenix siblings turn away from the small television, confused as to who is calling them so early. Putting his white plastic bowl down on the coffee table, Johnny teleports himself to the white landline phone and picks it up.
"Hello?" said Johnny. "Who is this?"
" 'Ello!" a male English voice beamed. "How are you and Nessa?"
"Dad?" Johnny asks in awe. "Is that you?"
"So, how are you doing?"
"We are fine," Dad replied in a crisp English accent. "Is your little sister doing her math homework?"
"She's eating breakfast," he softly answers.
Their cheerful father lowers his voice. "Is everything okay? Have you seen the news about the massacre last night?"
"Did you and your sister have anything to do with it?" asked their father.
Johnny's awkward silence confirms his suspicions.
"Alright," their father mutters. "You and Nessa will have to stay out of the limelight for a while. Please, just find Brooke and bring her home, okay? Mum misses you two."
Johnny dangles the white cord around his finger. "Tell her we miss her back. Bye, Dad."
After Johnny hangs up the phone, Nessa asks, "what did Dad want?"
"He told us to lie low until we find Brooke."
"Ugh, I doubt we will find her." she snorts.
He stretches his arms and places them behind his head. "We will find her, Nessa. Just be patient."
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