Chapter 2
After a brief argument over which one of the dynamic duo was Batman—which was settled through a game of rock, paper, scissors, of which Hannibal ended up being the victor, even though Will suspected he had cheated—they continued on their journey through the house, turning on the lights in each room they went through, in order to make sure that they didn't get lost.
"Hey, Hannibal," Will willingly whispered, as he looked into the next room, "My empathy's telling me something bad is going to happen." Hannibal didn't roll his eyes, since he was too polite, but he did roll his marbles onto the floor to prove a point. "Will," he said patronizingly, "Don't be ridiculous. We're breaking into a high-ranking FBI agent's house; said FBI agent has combat training, a gun, and will be able to recognize us at a single glance. As you can see, there's nothing to worry about. Furthermore, your abilities are empathetic, not clairvoyant, so I don't think that you're exactly an expert on this subject." Hannibal explained as he patted Will on the head a little harder than necessary.
"Well there's no need to be so condescending," Will muttered darkly, expressing himself by shooting a potted plant as he ascended the stairs, "I just have a bad feeling about this place. We should just kill Jack and leave. Try not to do anything weird." He looked at the marbles as the duo passed them, pointedly.
Hannibal laughed softly, gathering his marbles, and then skipped ahead of Will—who was taking his sweet time destroying all the potted plants that they passed— without a care in the world. He stopped in front of an ornate door, plated with real gold, if what his nose was telling him was true, which, after the time that he threatened it, never lied to him again. He stopped, and dramatically glanced at Will with a sultry look on his face. Will shifted, uncomfortable.
Hannibal shrugged this off, and proceeded to sashay into what he thought was Jack's room, but just as he set foot into the quarters, the lights went out. A loud crash came from the hall right behind him, where Will was when the lights failed to work. Hannibal twirled around, and softly called out, "Will?"
"Hannibal?"
"No, it's Will." Will ignored the deadpan reply, wishing that he could gut Hannibal, but instead settled for an equally satisfying, if not childish and immature, action, "I told you so. Something bad happened, and we're going to get killed by a serial killer now."
"Will," Hannibal was starting to develop a headache from his partner's stupidity, "I am a serial killer, and soon, you will be too. I'm the one that'll do the killing." Will didn't look too convinced, and even in the darkness, Hannibal knew that Will wasn't convinced. "It doesn't matter; I found Jack's room, so we just have to kill him, redecorate the house, steal the left foot of all his shoes—"
"Why are we going to redecorate the house? That idea's on the same level of idiocy as Jack's theories as to who the Chesapeake Ripper really is. He's thought it was Justin Timberlake, Oprah, and every pizza delivery guy that's delivered pizza to the FBI headquarters." Will flipped his hair aggressively and took on a menacing (in his opinion) stance, but since Hannibal was unable to see, part two of Will's Intimidation Technique was lost on him.
Hannibal looked on blindly. But then it hit him. And it wasn't the frying pan that Will had swung at his head, in a poor attempt at killing the Great Killer. He could use his formerly traitorous nose to find his way through the house. "Will, here's what we're going to do; we're going to get out our weapons, get in this room, kill Jack, steal all of his shoes, and then get out of here. Any questions?"
Will thought for a minute, and then, "Before, you said that we were stealing the left foot of all his shoes. Why are we stealing all his shoes now?" Hannibal sniffed at him appreciatively, "Why not?"
"Good point. We're also stealing all of his mugs and shooting them. I've always wanted a mug to be shot. Those bastards. Ever since they killed my mother, and my father shortly afterward, I've abhorred those—"
"Yeah, whatever," Hannibal rolled his eyes for real this time, since he just didn't care anymore and couldn't bother to put in the effort to be polite to Will, "We've got better things to do than listen to your tragic backstory. Like killing Jack, for instance. We've been here for thirty minutes. This is stupid. We open the door on three, and we do everything we can to kill that asshole, got it?"
"Sounds good."
As Hannibal had the superior counting skills, along with the superior cooking and serial killing skills, he counted, and when he got to three, the dynamic duo majestically leaped into Jack's room, then proceeded to knife the knives, gun the guns, harpoon the harpoons, poison the poisons, launch the grenade launchers, snipe the sniper rifles, bare the bears, and tree the trees.
"Where did we get all these weapons?"
Hannibal shrugged uncaringly, "Who cares? Hannibal out." Hannibal teleported far, far away, along with all of the organs, which were now also far, far away, leaving Will on his own. Will cried out in agony, before slow motion sprinting out of the house by himself. "That limp placenta… We didn't even get to steal Jack's shoes, and I didn't get to shoot the mugs…" He swore revenge on that betraying betrayer.
Hannibal cackled as he appeared on his lawn, the cackling drawing the attention of the neighbors. He stopped cackling and stared them down instead. They went back to whatever neighbors do when they're in their natural habitats. Hannibal calmly entered his house. He wasn't crazy. Not at all.
