She hoists him up by the collar, surprising strength in her upper body as she hisses in his ear and drags his stumbling feet towards the car. "What the hell were you thinking? I didn't even know where you were because you didn't fucking answer my calls! You could have gotten fucking Hypothermia! " She snarls, looking towards him slumped in the backseat, the weight of responsibility in her eyes. It's funny, he thinks, because the concoction of what was currently inside him made sure he didn't feel the cold anyway. Abner doesn't answer immediately, just stares at her with glassy eyes and a softly opened mouth. He finds his words eventually, and they're harsh and grating on the back of his throat.
"Didn't...Want to bother you." She watches at him in her rear view mirror, (Well, Chance's rear view mirror considering the fact that she'd borrowed her car) expecting more. When he gets himself hopelessly stuck, he usually squirms his way out of it with half-hearted words and nervous sentences, but not now. He's quiet, head tilted against the window.
That's when she knows something's wrong.
"Bother me?" She laughs, a hysterical laugh that hardly means anything to him, but to her it's relief and sadness and anger all piled into one sound.
She turns the radio up, so far the volume knob can't turn any further, blasting music while Abner blinks at her quietly. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you-
6:55 At Chance's.
They pile into one room, and this time Chance is too harried to even care if Abner's seated or not. She's running around, sorting things out while her daughter runs a hand through her hair and her son stares blankly ahead.
The two wait, listening to the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, tense.
Hans appears, and the two flinch even though he was already in the room to begin with.
Chance sets down the cutlery and dinner, happily announcing that Charlie would be joining them for dinner this time. It's no happy news for either of them, however. As expected, he arrives late, bringing with him a gust of freezing air and sauntering over to the table. Minerva looks at him briefly. Black suit, dark hair, amber eyes. He's the only one of her siblings that resembles their father, the spitting image of him.
"Now that we're all here, Hans would like to explain a couple of things." Chance elaborates, a wary smile on her face. She ducks her head respectfully when no one comments anything on the matter, and begins to eat.
Hans stays silent for such a long time it becomes uncomfortable, before looking up and smiling too, flashing yellowed teeth. "One day, one of you will rise to the throne. That's a fact, and let me tell you, you will never be prepared for it until it happens. You will take over this empire I built-"
Abner is incompetent enough to let out an irritated snort. Charlie's lip curves upwards in a smirk.
Oh yeah? Did you play a part in this?
Hans glared, head snapping towards the arachnid at the prospect of being interrupted, a gleam in his eye. "You have something to say about this, runt?"
Minerva buries her face in her hands, because she knows. This time he's going to take the fucking bait he's going to take the fucking-
"Yeah, actually. I do. I mean, don't take offence to this old man, but what the hell made you leader, you self entitled prick? You didn't build an empire, you built a goddamn matchstick house. It was the people before you, that made the very foundation of this business. And yet you're sitting here, at the head of the table telling us that you totally didn't get to this proverbial throne just because Ma married a scumbag. You, to be exact." Abner's mouth is a straight line.
Charlie raises an eyebrow, surveying the room with a long sweep of his calculating eyes. Hans' stillness is unnerving, and Chance takes the opportunity to stand out of her seat and make a bee-line for the kitchen to avoid what was coming.
It happens in slow motion. First the punch, then the strike, ending with Abner shouting and holding back flying fists. Charlie watches it with an amused expression as the two struggle to inflict pain, Abner swearing a blue streak. Minerva knows he would usually back down as soon as Hans got into close proximity of him, but this time there's too much anger and pride to let go. He's managed to hide it convincingly, she thinks to herself. All those snarky looks, comments that bordered on provoking, all brewing beneath the surface. The fucked up thing is, it's probably the drugs that are deciding to fight for him, not his actual conscious, collected self.
Then there's a crack. A sickening noise that makes Minerva's head sag and Abner shout, louder this time. The spider's hands fly to his face, falling back and steadying himself on an upturned chair. But Hans is relentless, and the blows just keep fucking coming. There's no end, even after broken furniture and protest. Usually it's a quick, disciplining blow that leaves Abner gasping in pain, but this time he doesn't stop. There's a line, a line that when crossed everything seems to halt. Even Charlie senses things have gone too far, and stands up slowly, nonchalantly strolling over to the struggling pair. Minerva's already over there by the time he reaches them, screaming for them to stop. Abner falls to his knees, buckling as a well timed kick sends him reeling. Shouts start to muffle and blur into one drowning noise, only Minerva's scream piercing through them, higher and louder than the rest.
In the kitchen, Chance covers her ears, shaking with the tears she can't seem to stop. Unable to fight for her son, unable to put an end to it, she recalls bitter memories and the taste of copper. Not this again, don't don't don't-
And then comes the clarity. The sense of calm, almost zen. She picks up an object lying on the bench, doesn't even know she's doing it, and stalks into the room. She dusts her apron, observes the tangle of limbs and chaos surrounding her, and breathes. So maybe the whole thing was sooner than she planned, but as the adrenaline kicks in, she realises one thing she hadn't grasped before. No one, touches her kids. No one disrespects her family like that. His actions this time are inexcusable. If she has to revert to violence to get that point across, then so be it.
There's a thump, and Hans hits the ground. Minerva and Charlie move quickly, seeing the steel thing blur in the air as it hits it's mark in the man's head. There's a dent in her pan, a dent in his head. Blood trickles from a surprised mouth onto the carpet, and she drops the kitchen appliance as quickly as she picked it up.
