Chapter 10

A/N: Finally managed to get a new chapter done for the first time in 8 months. Last upload was January 2023, so at least it wasn't a year or more this time. The story is finally moved up to 2009. Henry and Mark are now each 28, still in the Marines for now. I credit AM83220 with suggesting the main event that this chapter features.

"Okay, babe, I'll see you when we get back!" Henry called, heading out the door with Mark, Alex and Richard in tow. Their eldest boys were ten now, their next pair five. It still amazed Henry to think that everything he had in life now, the glamour he enjoyed, had started when he'd become brothers with Mark.

"Mark," Henry said as they headed out to the black Hummer H1 that Henry still owned, still cherished for the kickass machine that it was.

"Yah."

"Figure we can just both resign next year or something. Not like we need the Corps anyway. They need us. And Tyler pays us way better."

"He also lets us do whatever we want, fuck whoever we want." He grinned, getting into the passenger seat of the Beast. "Continue to invite Carter Stevens over, 'cause somebody's wife wanted him to explore his fuckin' sexuality-"

"Yeah, whatever, Mark!" Henry interrupted, pulling the driver's door shut. He tried looking stern, but gave up and laughed along with Mark after a few moments.

"Gwen likes the extra action, man," Henry shrugged. "What can I say?"

"I'm just saying there always was kinda something a liiiiitle sexual between you and Carter. The way he never took his eyes off you his whole freshman year."

"Dude, we ran a fuckin' cult of personality at our high school. The football team there's still a fuckin' cult."

"Yeah. That was the plan."

"You're an asshole."

"You know you love me."

Alex spoke up as Henry keyed the ignition, and the massive diesel engine turned over with a throaty growl.

"Hey, Dad."

"Yes, Alex?" Mark answered behind his sunglasses, gazing out the front passenger window.

"You oughta thank me for not squishing that little twerp Julie popped out. I've had so many chances."

"Yeah, not like it would've been hard," Richard scoffed. "Little Brandon's begging for it."

"Boys, we talked about this," Mark warned.

"Your time's coming, old man," Alex said. "Did you think I forgot you just fucked Julie and forgot to pull out, and that's why I'm here?"

Mark frowned. "What's that got to do with it?"

"At least Richard's here because Henry decided to have him by 'accident.' I actually was an accident." Alex paused, glowering hatefully at his father. "You'd be insulted if that's how you were born."

"Alex," Henry warned, "I can't kill you unless Mark says, but I can hit you."

"You're not gon-"

"You keep talking and I may forget you're my beloved nephew for a few minutes once we get there."

"I swear, I'm-"

"I mean I'm sure you'll do something scary," Mark replied sarcastically. "You're also ten, Alex. You better not take your chance at succeeding me unless you're actually strong enough. You're not getting a second shot at it."

"So the fuck w-"

"Aaand he's interrupted a third time!" Henry called out cheerfully, drawing an appreciative laugh from Mark. "Alex, Alex. Did you think that whole thing with Jackson Lee's cunt nephew or cousin or whatever he was, you think that happened by accident? Did you not notice just how many windows that house we're going to has?"

Alex's handsome features crinkled into a frown. His cool blue eyes darkened further, promising damnation, violence, anguish, and pain.

"Uncle Henry, I dunno what you're talking about."

"Just talk sense, Dad," Richard added, watching his father closely.

A quick glance at Mark and Henry knew they were off to a good start with their bluff. The boys were angry, yes, but also alert. Wary. They knew their dads were powerful in many ways beyond their physical strength. That gave them credibility, a kind of trust the boys placed in their words, even if Alex and Richard did not and could not ever love them.

Running a good bluff now was going to save Marcus and Brandon's lives. They were happy, healthy, and utterly cold like their big brothers. They deserved a chance to live, and their fathers were going to give it to them.

"Okay, Uncle Henry-slash-Dad is gonna lay it out for you now," Henry began, flicking on his turn signal as the evening sun started to set. "Boys, Mark and I are blackmailing you." He held up a hand to hold off their startled objections. "We've already done it, in fact. So, we kind of filmed that whole thing out there in the courtyard. But you're the only ones anyone will recognize, after a little bit of editing. Tape comes out of the camera, goes in a safe deposit box. And if anything happens to Marcus or Brandon… or Gwen or Julie…"

"There's no way you arranged that," Alex declared, folding his arms over his chest. "You two know you're gonna be dead soon. Who's gonna keep this box ready once the two old bastards get snuffed?"

"We'll find the box anyway," Richard added. "You know we will."

"You don't know where it is. Or whose name it's in. Or whether there's even only one," Mark told them. "Best to just leave your brothers alone, guys. Trust me. Better for you that way."

"You love us," Richard taunted. "You'd never let anyone lock us up."

"We do love you," Henry answered. "But we also love Marcus and Brandon. And you keep threatening to kill them."

"Promising," Alex corrected.

"Exactly why we had to take steps to keep them safe," Henry pronounced, driving uphill and taking another right.

The boys fell silent for the rest of the drive to Fleetwood Hall. But the way they kept glancing at each other, expressions shifting here and there, said they were talking all the same. Henry was both impressed with their skill at telepathy, and exasperated with it. He and Mark had never progressed beyond being able to talk in the Hall and under the floor of the Glass Library.

And under extreme duress, when we need each other most, Henry reminded himself. Combat had reminded them of that in case they'd forgotten, Henry's cool nerve as a forward observation officer contrasting with Mark's savage eagerness to close and destroy the enemy. The Corps liked it, gave them medals, called them courageous. Reality was only Henry and Mark mattered. Every other Marine around, and anybody else on their 'side', was just scenery.

But it was worth going through the motions for now.

As they got to the house, passed through the heavy wrought-iron gates, and pulled up by the front doors, Richard spoke up.

"Dad."

"Yeah, Rich?"

"You remember what it felt like when you drowned the old Richard?"

"Of course."

"It's gonna be so much better than that when I finally get you."

"Don't think that tape's gonna save those little dorks forever, either," Alex added. "I'm gonna really make it hurt, Dad." He grinned savagely, baring his teeth like they were fangs. "We're gonna make you both suffer."

"Look out, Mark," Henry commented. "They're turning vicious on us."

"We're so proud of you boys," Mark agreed. "You're training, you're practicing, you're working out."

"Crazy how buff they are for fuckin' ten," Henry added.

"Yeah, man. So, you just keep it up, guys. Give it, like, ten more years and you might be ready to take us."

"Seriously. We're fuckin' proud of you two."

Alex and Richard stared. They were taken by surprise, a rare thing, as smart and alert as they were.

"What the-?" Alex finally managed.

"You're not supposed to like this!" Richard insisted, sounding as frustrated as he looked.

Getting out of the Hummer, Henry opened Richard's door and hugged him. "Rich, I'd be disappointed if you weren't this fired up about it. Don't ever forget your Dad's the one who taught you what badass is."

"Mmff," Richard grumbled, swiping ineffectively as Henry ruffled his golden-blond hair. "Leggo, stoppit. Stoppit, Dad, lemme out."

"I love you, Rich."

"Fuck you, Dad."

"Ah, the love," Mark sighed, coming around to Henry's side with Alex in a headlock. "It's shit like this that makes you miss your family on deployment, and all that crap."

"Fuckin-" Alex grunted. "Let me- Ugh- I'm gonna-"

"Okay, guys. Let's go in there," Henry said. "You two need more time under the floor."

"Not like we weren't sneaking over here while you two were playing in the sand," Alex grouched, at last freed from his father's grip.

"Yeah. But nothing like a family trip back home, is there?" Henry asked, sharing a smile with Mark.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

They went under the floor together, all four of them. Alex and Richard knew it as a relatively new experience, young as they were; Mark and Henry, though only in their twenties, had been drawing strength and greatness from this place for more than ten years.

It knew them as a source of strength in return. Bodies had been given to it, souls for it to take at its leisure. The house showed itself as truly alive these days, richly lit and shedding the many decades of dust and neglect to the interior. It kept the overgrowth outside to fool observers, for now, but inside was better than ever.

Mark had not imagined the house would have gotten to know their sons so well. Never guessed that it had looked ahead to the future, and calculated how much Alex and Richard could give it.

Never had Mark dreamed that his and Henry's place as Fleetwood Hall's privileged, favorite sons would ever be jeopardized.

But the dream they shared this time was bad from the start. And it got worse in a hurry.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Thirty-six years old and still outwardly young, and incredibly strong and healthy inside and out, Henry Evans motioned to Mark as they came up the front walk to the house they'd both grown up in. "Come on. The boys are already inside."

"Yeah, I know, wasn't my bright idea to give 'em both car keys."

"They both go through girls even faster than we did at that age. They needed wheels, man."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don't know."

Mark had only called this place home from 1993 onward, when he'd left his old life and parents behind in Arizona forever, but to Henry and Mark, it had always been this way. They had always been brothers.

Talking Wallace and Susan into moving into that 5-bedroom apartment on 55 Central Park West had been tough at first, but with Connie and her beloved in Connecticut, and the big house in Portland going to Henry in the end anyway, the Evans elders had gone for it, appreciating the chance to live comfortably with maintenance and landscaping finally someone else's problem.

And then just this week Henry had gotten Wallace and Susan to actually just sign the place over. He grinned as he stepped inside with Mark beside him.

"I knew all this was gonna be mine one day."

"Oh, shit!" Mark exclaimed, eyes widening as he looked up at the balcony above the stairs. Clad only in a pair of sweatpants, Richard had dropped over the side of the railing, held on by his lower legs grasping it. He winked at the two men and started doing crunches.

"I don't care if you're almost eighteen, Rich, you get your ass down from there!" Henry called out.

"Gotta stay buff, Dad," Richard grunted, the powerful, hardened muscles in his upper body rippling easily under smooth, pale skin as he worked.

"You are buff, Richard; we're all very impressed. Now get down from there before you kill yourself."

Richard just laughed.

"What's the joke, Rich?" Henry asked, a hint of impatience entering his voice.

"You guys are bunched up."

Alex dropped from where he'd concealed himself, inside and above the front door, with a decorative window set a few feet forward, granting enough space to stand. Spinning to meet his attacker, Henry felt a jolt, a shock as he looked up.

From his stylish auburn hair to his cool blue eyes, from his classically-handsome features to the fanatical fitness routine he practiced, Alex was the spitting image of his dad, Henry's beloved brother. It was like seeing Mark at eighteen again.

Except this time Mark was his enemy.

And Mark was very, very much looking forward to killing him.

Henry brought his arms up to throw Alex aside, but Richard, seizing his father and uncle's distraction, was already down from the balcony, sprinting in. Henry stayed in place, managed to catch Alex and hurl him aside, but took the blow Richard had intended to land all along.

It wasn't to his back, though that would have been plenty bad enough. No, Richard, the boy that Henry had used Lisa Doyle for, the boy he'd named deliberately to spit on his hated former sibling's memory, struck the back of Henry's left knee. Nothing broke, but white-hot pain flared and Henry screamed.

"Yes!" Richard shouted, like he'd just scored the winning goal of some game. No, not the winning goal, not yet, but the first one. The challenging team was now 1-0.

Mark wordlessly lashed out with a lethal kick, intending to catch Alex between the legs as he sprang up from the floor, but Alex saw it coming and lunged for his father, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling himself up and out of the way.

Like Richard, Alex was bare-chested, the two having chosen this on purpose. They wanted freedom of movement, yes, but also the chance to silently boast. They'd come a long way and were extremely strong and swift. They were ready to take over. Their time had come.

"What's the matter, Dad?" Alex hissed savagely as he and Mark grappled, crashing into a closet door. "Don't you want your son to hug you?"

Henry managed to turn and, ignoring the pain in his left knee, grabbed Richard's arm as he swung. Richard brought up his knee, hitting Henry's stomach as forcefully as he could, and Henry aimed for his eldest son's nose with his free hand, curled into a deadly fist. Richard twisted and managed to get free enough that the nose didn't break, but when the two broke apart, blood was running freely from it.

"Ready to die, vermin?" Richard asked with laughter dancing at the edge of his words, in the gleeful look in his eyes.

"I'll make sure I cry at your funeral," Henry answered.

Mark, meanwhile, had gotten the upper hand enough to throw Alex clear into the living room, where he pulled a sofa over on his way down, and crashed in a heap by a fireplace. He effortlessly sprang up, sweating hard now but grinning, enjoying the fight.

Henry took a step forward and almost faltered; his damaged left knee was threatening to fail him. Richard laughed delightedly. "What's the matter, Dad? Someone mess with your knee?"

"I'll even write you a nice eulogy!" Henry growled, punching his son hard in the chest. Richard staggered back, then shrugged off the next blow which missed his eye and struck near his eyebrow instead.

Striking with speed that would have done credit to a rattlesnake, Richard hit his father with an open palm to the chest to gain space, then hit Henry again with a fist straight to the left eye.

"Ah!" Henry shouted, as much as in pain as in anger.

Glass shattered in the living room, and it sounded like something pretty heavy had gotten knocked over. It was either solid oak furniture or Mark.

Wishing he could help his brother but being too busy trying to finish Richard, Henry battled his son fiercely, simultaneously alarmed and impressed by Richard's strength, speed and skill. Richard had worked hard to get to the extreme level of fitness he held today. He'd fought night and day to find even the smallest ways to grow stronger, tougher, meaner. To gain an advantage over the exceptional man, the fearless killer that was his father.

Henry fought with all he had. He held nothing back. There was no point; all four of the combatants had known for years that this was going to be a battle to the death. But even managing to throw Richard into the railing on the stairs, shattering the wood into splinters, barely slowed his son down.

The thing was… Henry was slowing down.

It took a while. Even with that blow to his knee and eye, Henry was a powerhouse. He'd killed before so, so many times, had survived combat service in the Marines. Even his age was little impediment; vigorous and active at thirty-six was better than lazy and stationary at seventeen.

But Richard was vigorous and active too. He'd been training ferociously for years, and he'd been drawing strength from a certain, special house from the beginning of his life. The frown that Richard's handsome features settled into during the fight gradually smoothed out as a smile returned. It was a smile that said Richard knew time was on his side in this fight. That as strong as his father was, he was stronger.

The end came when Alex tumbled back into the entrance hall with Mark, both of them battered, one of them winning. Grinning like a devil that seizes lost souls, Alex grappled with Mark, pinned him, seized his head and with one swift motion snapped his neck.

"MARK!" Henry howled, losing all interest in everything else. He didn't even want to get Richard now. Wild with rage and despair, Henry needed Alex to pay. He sprinted forward, reached out with two hands twisted into claws, and too late noticed the fireplace poker Alex had picked up.

The improvised weapon stunned Henry as it slammed into his face, ruining years of carefully-maintained good looks. Henry crashed to the polished hardwood floor beside Mark, managing to roll over and try to stand. Alex pinned him down with one bare foot.

"So uncivilized," Alex said with mock dismay, dropping the fireplace poker with a resounding clang.

"Like you fucking care," Richard laughed.

"Mark," Henry managed, spitting out a couple of bloodied, broken teeth. "Mark!" That name had become all that was left of Henry's vocabulary. It was all he cared about. The wonderful person who'd carried that name had been everything to Henry, and now he was gone.

"Dad," Richard said reproachfully. "Dad. Why'd you ever waste all that time and money getting girls to give it to you, when you could just take it like Alex and I do?"

"Mark!" Henry tried to rise, lashed out at Alex, but Alex just laughed and planted the foot harder on his uncle's chest.

"Why did you have me, when you knew this was how it was gonna end?"

"You-fucking-fucking-shit-Maaark!"

"Yeah, yeah. You loved him." Richard shrugged, flexing his well-muscled shoulders, bearing scratches, bruises, and grime, like the rest of his upper body, from the fight. "Look where that got you, Dad."

Richard smiled then, in a way Henry knew well.

It was almost contemptuous.

It was almost a smirk.

As his firstborn moved to deliver the killing blow with one, swift chop to his father's neck, Henry's last thoughts were a mix of wishes for vengeance and love for his brother.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Henry and Mark were unusually quiet as they rose from the floor. Both men glanced at each other, visibly shaken, fighting back tears.

"I'm gonna get you one day, Dad," Alex spoke, pulling a smaller-sized, but eerily-similar pair of gray sweatpants back on, reaching for his shirt and sweater. "One day we're both gonna be stronger than you both, and we'll get you." He smiled gleefully, looking happier, more animated, than Mark had ever seen him.

"Well, you haven't yet, you little-"

"We're not gonna do it over at Wallace and Susan's place," Richard interjected. "I mean, Uncle Mark. What'd be the point to making you live through that if we were gonna do it just the way we showed you? Why would we pick a time and place we know you'll just remember now?"

"Or maybe it will be when we're both in 12th grade," Alex shrugged. "Maybe we'll do it then and there after all."

"I'd prefer here," Richard said, in the clear tones Mark knew so well from a twelve-year-old Henry in 1993.

Ten-year-old Richard looked and sounded almost identical. It was unnerving listening to him. That face and voice had belonged to a friend. Mark's brother. Now it was owned by… something else entirely.

"Yes," Alex agreed, like it was just occurring to him for the first time. "No witness, and, we get to keep your souls." He flashed a grin. "Forever."

Suddenly feeling an impulse to do something extremely fast and extremely permanent, Mark took a few steps forward without even realizing it.

"Of course you could kill us today," Richard continued.

"But we know you won't do that. You love us too much," Alex taunted. "You want to show us how much you care. You want to see us grow up."

"As long as you can, anyway," Richard added.

"I could keep you alive," Mark whispered fiercely. "I could do it now, or anytime you want. I could drag it out for days. I could make you suffer and no one would ever know!"

"Mark," Henry said gently, setting a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"Henry," Mark answered, almost frantic. "We're just gonna let 'em- make us see that?"

"They're growing up, just the way we always wanted."

"Fuck that. Fuck them."

"Think about how fucking deadly all our boys are gonna be by the time we leave them. The world's never gonna see them coming."

Mark wanted to argue. He would have gladly killed the two little twerps here, with their smug little faces, handsome, almost angelic, identical to Henry and Mark at that age. But Henry just kept that steady gaze on him, that acceptance to the bigger picture, and the future they both wanted for their sons.

"Fine." Mark pointed at Alex and Richard. "You two better watch it. And you better appreciate what we're doing for you!"

"Oh, we do, Dad," Alex answered.

"That's why we're gonna make it quick for both of you," Richard went on, "when we actually do it."

"Dude, you made a villain speech."

"Yeah, but it was a good one. And I did kill 'im quick."

"Boys," Henry said, deliberately lightening his tone. "How about we go get you a couple more dumbbells for your room? And Alex can make Julie think she has a spider on her hand again."

"Cool!" Alex and Richard chorused. Mark, who had shifted in and out of different faces and personas as needed for so long now, couldn't help but be impressed.

They really looked happy and carefree. Like they loved their dads and appreciated them. Like they only wanted to just have friends, go to school, have fun and grow up.

Like any other kids.

A/N: 9-19-2023. Made it to the end of another chapter! Most of it was in 2009, and that's where the 'canon' of the story is now, but the vision that Alex and Richard got the house to create was set in 2017, when Alex would be about 18 and Richard about 17.

As always, the genuine love and affection between Henry and Mark, and also toward their sons, was natural and easy to write and imagine. Henry and Mark, and through them their sons, are monsters. They are evil by any definition. But they really do love each other and their sons, appreciating one another greatly in countless ways.

Feedback is always welcome. Feel free to leave a review for this chapter, and you can also send a PM if you have any questions or comments about the story.

To fear2breathe: I know it's been years since I started writing in this fandom and I appreciate you for writing and reading yourself. Thank you for that review of Chapter 8. I hope Chapter 10 is up to your expectations.

To AM83220: You were the one who talked me into writing a sequel to "The Second Face" to begin with, and here we are. Finally continuing a third sequel to it. Been a good time and I look forward to writing out the rest of Henry and Mark's 'canon' storyline together.