Arriving at the party, Oliver wasn't surprised when Dave was the first person to spot him- Dave's rainbow colored costume likely distracting everyone from his own entrance. Oliver's costume, though much more subtle, suited him well. A patterned doublet, blue and brown striped pants, knee high leather boots, and an actual lute thrown over his shoulder perfectly blended his love for music and gaming.
Dave grinned broadly as he clapped Oliver on the back. “I should have expected you would be a Bard! The lute is a nice touch. I'll come find you again before your set. Try not to drink too much before then!” Like a whirlwind, Dave had come and gone before Oli could even respond, leaving him to chuckle to himself.
Oliver grabbed a drink and settled in to enjoy the party. He was sad that Poli couldn't join him for it, but understood that her job was important to her and sometimes took her away from things like this- especially around holidays when the police tended to be extra busy.
He was amused at the variety of costumes, and watched a parade of monsters and action heroes passed by in a near constant stream with the occasional sexy nurse or fantasy character thrown in. His roommates showing up as the Three Stooges sent a ripple of laughter through the entire party, and Oliver smiled as he waved them over to join him.
As more people filtered in to the party, the atmosphere gradually grew rowdier until the music started. A quick progressive scale ringing out drew everyone's attention to the pair of pianos set in a corner. Oliver marveled for a moment that someone on the football team not only had access to this massive mansion out in the countryside, but that they brought in two grand pianos for the night. The sheer excess of the party would have likely intimidated the pre-system him.
With the party in full swing, he relaxed with his friends and waited for his turn to play. While some would get nervous and anxious at the prospect of playing for so many people, Oliver just looked forward to it with a smile. Stage fright wasn't something he had ever considered, much less worried about.
As the time for him to perform drew closer, Oliver excused himself from his friends and made his way closer to the pianos. When the song ended, a music student he only knew in passing excused himself with a wave and Oliver took his spot, smiling across at his partner for the next half hour, Jen. While she looked like the shy next-door neighbor type, he knew she had the voice of an angel and could really belt it out.
Just as Oliver wrapped up his quick warm up, someone dropped money in the jar for song requests. Glancing up at them to ask what they wanted to hear, he hesitated with a frown at the sight of Carl looming over him with a sinister smirk.
“Hey Oli, how about you play something nice for my girlfriend. You know, the ex that you couldn't satisfy?” With a malevolent chuckle, Carl walked away before Oliver could respond.
Shaking his head, Oliver waved off Jen's worried look. Wracking his head for what to play, a vicious smile crossed his face that nearly made Jen flinch. “I've got this one Jen, but feel free to jump in if you want.”
Setting his fingers on the keys, he flew straight into the song. The party quieted for a brief moment at the sound, and several people frowned as they tried to identify it- and Jen's shocked look told him she knew exactly what he was playing. Locking his gaze onto Carl and Jess across the room, Oliver made sure to project so the whole party could hear.
“Oh, well imagine
As I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor
And I can't help but to hear
No, I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words
"What a beautiful wedding
What a beautiful wedding", says a bridesmaid to a waiter
"And, yes, but what a shame
What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore"
Oliver couldn't help the moment of satisfaction he got at seeing the angry and embarrassed looks on the faces. When others joined in on the chorus, the room nearly thundered with the sound of the popular song. He watched as, emotions getting the better of them, Carl and Jess stormed out of the room, shoving people out of their way as they went.
The performance, and the party, went well in Oliver's opinion. He was slightly concerned when he heard that Carl had left the party entirely, but shrugged it off as another of the jerk's tantrums. Hours flew by with him mostly hanging out with his roommates, though he also took time for his other friends, especially Dave and Tyrone.
When the party started winding down, he volunteered to help clean up, wanting to be helpful and figuring it would give him a chance for the little bit of alcohol in his system to pass so he could drive home safely. Before he knew it, it was closing in on 3am and he was one of the last people to leave. Waving goodbye to the people that would be crashing there, he climbed into his truck and started the long drive home.
Oliver was part way home and driving slower as he did his best to stay focused, the long night weighing on him. A loud bang and the steering wheel jerking in his hands snapped him fully awake in an instant. He eased off the gas pedal slowly as he struggled to keep the truck straight. Just when he though he had it under control, a second bang, sounding like a gun shot, rang out. His truck jerked hard again, and started spinning out of his control.
For several long moments, he fought to correct the truck and pull it out of the spin as it steadily lost speed. Just as the last of its momentum bled off, the truck slid off the side of the road and into the ditch. With the vehicle finally stopped, he put it in park and slumped in his seat, the tension and anxiety slowly ebbing as he breathed deeply.
Turning it off, he hopped out to check what had happened. Pulling a flashlight out of his warehouse, he frowned when he shined the light across the truck. Two tired blown... What were the odds of that happening? Especially since they weren't that old.
A metallic glint caught his attention, and he leaned closer to one of the intact tires only to find a nail sticking out of it. Quickly checking the other, he cursed quietly when he found another nail. Someone had spiked all of his tires at the party and nearly killed him!
And he had a strong suspicion of who it could have been.
Pulling out his phone, Oliver cursed again when he saw he had no signal here. Looking around, all he could see was forest. No driveways or houselights at all along this stretch... But there was a pair of headlights heading his way.
Before he could raise his arms to wave the person down, some instinct tickled the back of his mind. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw another car coming up from behind him. Squinting through the glare of the lights, his breathe caught in his throat for a second at what he saw before he threw himself into a sprint straight for the nearby woods. He recognized the SUV, and knew exactly who owned it.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Carl.
The pair of SUVs screeched to a halt and a dozen people piled out quickly, each of them clutching some form of weapon- baseball bats, tire irons, knives... and the bodyguard had a pistol comfortably holstered on his hip. Most of them hesitated for a moment, watching as Oliver ran into the woods. Until Carl stepped forward and shouted.
“That's right, run you little bitch!” Chuckling to himself, he turned to the group with a sneer. “Not that it will do him any good. Come on, lets get this asshole.”
Carl waved casually for them to follow him as he marched off. Before he made it two steps, his bodyguard was beside him, speaking in a low voice only the two of them could hear. “This is a bad idea, Mr. Harden.”
Carl glanced at the man and scoffed. “Seriously Rodney? He's practically pissing himself in fear. There's nothing he can do with this many of us, even if he wants to. Little Oli needs to learn his place.”
Rodney hesitated for a second before he spoke. “I don't think he's afraid, Mr. Harden.” Seeing Carl's condescending look he pressed on, trying to voice the strange feeling he had. “It's hard to explain, sir, but something about this... The way he moved, the look of him... It's not fear. It's anger. And that man, Oliver,” He waved his hand in the direction Oliver had run, ignoring the frown forming on Carl's face. “He's dangerous. I can feel it. It's the same feeling I got before being ambushed in Afghanistan. We-”
Carl cut him off with a contemptuous sneer. “I thought you were a soldier, not a chicken.” Waving off his guards concerns, his voice filled with stern arrogance as he spoke. “He's a band geek. I bet him sucker punching me is the closest to a fight he's ever been in. Now, either get your shit together or wait with the car. We need to catch up to him and fuck him up!”
Rodney watched as Carl started jogging, the rest of the group quick to follow his lead, scowling at the level of foolishness his charge was showing. And the casual disrespect being thrown at him for trying to protect the spoiled brat. His scowl only deepened when Carl's useless girlfriend passed him, already struggling to keep up. Why that girl wanted to come along, and why she hated her ex so much, he couldn't figure out. Not that Carl would listen if he brought up concerns about her.
Just like his concerns about tonight were instantly insulted and ignored.
With a sigh, he started jogging to catch up. He was already starting to regret taking this job.
The mob ran through the woods for several minutes before slowing in confusion, not having caught even a glimpse of their target. Milling around, their flashlights waving about as they searched for any sign of them, a few soft mutters sounded out as Carl cursed. “Where the fuck did that asshole go?”
Rodney offered them an exasperated look as he caught up, shining his flashlight on a line in front of them. “He's running straight ahead; you can tell by how the leaves are kicked up.” He frowned slightly in worry, shaking his head. “There's no effort to hide his trail or, hell, just for him to hide period. It's just a straight run leading us on.”
Carl started marching forward almost instantly at his words, waving the group to follow. “Let's go th-”
His words cut off as his bodyguard grabbed his arm and spun him around. Rodney cut off his angry exclamation before it even started, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “He wants us to follow him. This guy isn't running afraid, he's planning something.” Seeing the mulish look on Carl's face, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I'm telling you, Mr. Harden, this is going to get ugly.”
Carl roughly shrugged off the hand grabbing him. “He's unarmed and running like the chicken shit he is, so, yeah, its about to get ugly. For him. Now come on.” He waved the group forward and started on the trail again. Rodney's only relief being that he had some of the others take the lead this time. Maybe his words had finally gotten through to the hot-headed young man.
Ten minutes of following the obvious trail and Rodney could feel the tension and anxiety building with each step. His head turned left and right constantly, and he glanced over his shoulder periodically just to be careful. He knew he had to be extra alert as most of these... kids wouldn't see trouble until it jumped up and bit them. Because he realized that's what they were: Spoiled, ignorant children.
He was almost relieved when something finally happened.
He had no real warning. Just a small click and one of the guys in the lead was suddenly on the ground, coughing and sputtering even as he tried to scream. Shining his light on him, Rodney could see blood streaming from a busted nose and some sort of powder covering his face. As the other's milled about and shouted in confusion, he quickly stepped closer and scanned the scene. Grabbing the still swinging tree branch that was roughly at head height, he saw a pair of plastic tubes tied to it. Reading the labels on them, he almost wanted to laugh but knew how serious this really was.
Garlic salt and onion powder.
Spinning back to the group, his voice crackled with authority as he snapped at them. “Anyone have bottled water? Hand it over. Now!” He practically yelled at the hesitating group before snatching away the bottle one of them offered. Grabbing the injured man, he quickly began flushing his eyes with the water.
“What the hell is it? Some sort of poison or something?” Carl's voice wavered with fear.
“It's garlic salt and onion powder.” A hint of irritation wormed its way into Rodney's tone, despite his efforts to suppress it.
Carl chuckled with disdain, quickly regaining his arrogant attitude. “What? Is Oli trying to season us to death? How dumb-”
“Shut up Carl.” Rodney snapped at him and ignored the indignant squawk from his charge. He glared at the group as their amused expressions rapidly faded. “This isn't a joke. Ignoring the fact that getting this shit in your eyes can potentially blind someone, this was obviously a warning. A pointed, yet fairly tame, warning.”
Jumping to his feet before any of them could stupidly respond, he gestured at the offending tree limb. “This is a variant of a spring spike trap. Instead of using a couple jars of seasoning, he could have easily sharpened a few stakes and tied them on there. Then, instead of worrying about maybe going blind, your friend would have a hole or two in his face.”
Sweeping his gaze across the now worried looking group, he hoped they had finally understood the seriousness of the situation. Carl's obstinate look nearly made him curse, but he pressed on, hoping to convince the man he was quickly realizing was a spiteful fool. “Whatever your grudge with this Oliver guy is, you need to drop it and we need to leave. He's not playing, and if we keep after him... Someone's going to get hurt.” Waving his hand at the man still on the ground, he corrected himself. “Someone else is going to get hurt.”
Carl's face wavered between fear, concern, and anger for a long moment, and Rodney thought he might have gotten through to him finally. When his expression suddenly shifted, filled with hate and venom, Rodney knew he had failed.
“That asshole may have trick or two up his sleeve, but we all saw his outfit at the party. He's barely carrying anything! I don't know why that freak had fucking spices on him, but he can't be carrying much else. We are not giving up just because he pulled this stupid shit out of his ass. We are going to find him and break his fucking legs and make him CRAWL BACK TO THE ROAD!” Carl was practically shouting by the end of his little speech, spittle flying from his lips as he quivered in rage.
Rodney resisted the impulse to punch Carl in the middle of his tantrum. His shoulders slumped as he resigned himself. As much as he hated this idiocy, it was his job protect this man-child. Even from himself, apparently. He gestured to the injured man as he spoke. “Fine. You and your girlfriend take this guy back to the car. I'll come get you when we catch Oliver.” Seeing Carl start to argue, he cut him off with an icy tone. “Don't argue, just do it. Or I'll drag you back myself. Understand?”
Carl flinched at the look in his bodyguard's eyes and looked away, silently nodding his head. As Rodney led the rest off into the woods, he reluctantly did as he was ordered, pouting like a scolded child.
Neither group noticed the cold eyes watching them from the tree above. Or the vicious smile that briefly appeared.