Chapter Text
Nathaniel woke up Saturday morning to his alarm going off at 8 a.m. sharp.
Like most every other morning, he followed the same routine. Turned off the alarm, turned on his lamp, and made his bed. Used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and combed his curly red hair out of his face, all while he avoided meeting his own eyes in the reflection. Once finished, he got dressed before heading down stairs for breakfast.
One must wear proper clothing when outside of their bedroom.
Be downstairs and seated before they come down.
He beat his parents to the dining room table, of course. He had long since perfected his routine and timing as a way to limit his fathers punishments. Not like it helped, really. He sat with his back straight, head held high, and hands folded on the table in front of him as his parents entered the room. His mother, Mary, had on a white sundress that fell to her knees and a pair of sandals not adding to her short height in the slightest. Whereas his father, Nathan, had on an exquisite blue suit with a white button up under the jacket. Brown dress shoes tapped quietly against the tiled floor until they became silent on the rug under the dining table.
”Good Morning, Father,” Nathaniel greeted from his seat, “Mother.”
Nathaniel and his mother shared a small smile while his father ignored him completely, attention already on the newspaper in his hands.
The household cook waltzed out of the kitchen 5 minutes later carrying two serving platters of breakfast foods. Eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, and breakfast potatoes; Coffee, tea, and juice along with it. Nathan served himself first, then Mary, then Nathaniel. Nathaniel didn’t rush his eating, in fear of not eating again for the day. He knew that his mother was taking him out on their special outing today, and she would get him something to eat while his father’s attention was elsewhere.
If you were to ask Nathaniel, he would say that Saturday was his favorite day of the week.
On Saturdays, Nathan took trips out of state. Lola and Romero went with him, while Plank went to the office to catch up on work, and Dimaccio stayed at the house. Mary herself knew a thing or two, and it seemed Nathan had forgotten that over the years. She convinced Dimaccio some time ago that she and Nathaniel had a standing appointment at a gun range for Saturdays. Which was true. She knew to mix in some truth with a lie to make it convincing. The lie being that Nathan had ordered such an appointment, and if Dimaccio dared question it, he could ask Nathan himself.
Dimaccio never mentioned their weekend outings after the first inquiry.
While his biggest tormentors were states away, and the other two enforcers were busy, Nathaniel's mother took him out for the only sliver of freedom she could afford at the time.
As Nathaniel took another bite of toast, he looked up to see his father kiss his mother on the head as he stood. The man sent his son a cold glare before turning on his heel and leaving the room. His father never acknowledged him unless to berate him, but he must have zoned out for the entirety of the meal and his parents' conversation. He hadn’t realized almost 20 minutes had passed, if the time on the grandfather clock in the corner was an indication.
After hearing the click of the front door shutting, Mary appraised her young boy slowly before a smile graced her face and she nodded to him. He returned a toothy grin and got up from his seat to walk over to hug her.
“Hurry and go get ready now, and I'll pull the car around. Once you see me pull in front of the steps, come on out and we'll leave.”
“Yes, Mother!” Nathaniel agreed easily while already walking briskly, not running, to the stairs.
He did what his mother instructed, changing his short sleeve dress shirt for a plain clean tee, and his slacks for a pair of athletic shorts and slipped on some sneakers. Once finished, he made his way back down stairs and out the front door once he saw his mother stop the car at the steps.
From there, they went about their free day as they usually would.
First, they went to a gun range in Fort Meade, 30 minutes away from their brick Baltimore estate. Mary led Nathaniel through target practice with both a Glock and a revolver. She assured him it was for self defense only, and the employees were paid off heavily to keep their lips sealed.
“Remember, Abram,” his mother said, “focus your aim just below your target until you can handle the kick back.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Next, they went to Nathaniel's Exy practice in Annapolis. They drove over an hour there and back each weekend in the name of discretion. The trainers and coaches couldn't know who Nathaniel was, or what family he belonged to. So, while on his little slice of heaven called an Exy court, Nathaniel was known as Abram.
He played as a backliner in a small recreational skills program. Most of the other kids played for their schools, and only came to brush up on their positions. He didn't go to school, however, and didn't have a team, so these skills classes were everything to him.
He enjoyed his time with other kids on the court, with it being the other social interactions he was allowed. He was homeschooled, a way to keep Nathaniel's frequent injuries away from prying eyes. So he listened to the others stories about school and drama between siblings. He didn’t know what that was like either, being an only child. Sometimes he dreamed of having a sibling, a built-in friend, to have at his side. But after considering what he goes through in his home, he’d never wish that upon another soul.
After he was exhausted and sweaty from an exhilarating workout, Mary took her son to his favorite restaurant for a treat. Subway. Maybe it was finding the small sense of control, something he could finally decide for himself, but he loved it. Half a meatball sub, a water, and a cookie for dessert.
Once he finished his meal, Nathaniel and his mother went back home. They never mentioned their time outside the house once they returned. Mary made sure her son knew it was all a secret between the two of them, and to not breathe a word of it. He already knew, as his father ruined everything else he had ever held dear, and would never let it slip.
What’s one more secret, anyway.
Nathaniel's father returned home Sunday morning, along with Lola and Romero.
That afternoon he silently and obediently followed Lola's instructions with knives down in the basement. It was drafty and cold thanks to the underground tunnels, and had the ever present smell of musty copper.
He dutifully organized the large collection of blades on the table as she called them out by name. Then demonstrated the correct way to handle each of them. How to hold it, how to unsheath it quickly and silently.
He worked on evasive tactics with Romero, skillfully avoiding the large man when he charged him. Wiggling out of holds and elbowing soft tissue and cartilage to get away when caught.
He screwed his eyes shut and tried his best not to scream as the siblings showcased various locations where you could cut someone to elicit extreme pain without them bleeding out.
These training sessions were deemed necessary and normal in Nathaniel's mind from a very young age. He questioned it sometimes, why he was hurt when he followed the rules, but never voiced them out loud. The first time he was brought down into the basement he was 5, and it was all in his best interest, surely. But he could never figure out why, after his time with the Malcolm siblings, his mother came to his room beaten and bruised. He’d lie still with his own bandages in place, while his mother slid behind him against the wall.
“Did you mess up in your lessons, Mother?” Nathaniel whispered into the dark to his mother.
“I suppose I did, my dear boy,” she whispered back. “My tongue slipped my teeth today. Don't be like Mummy. Focus on your training, and don't talk unless spoken to. Understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“You'll be coming with me today, boy,” his father announced at breakfast Monday morning. His voice was deep and smooth, carefully crafted to accompany his professional persona. However, it would remain the voice of Nathaniel’s nightmares, having heard it while witnessing the most horrific acts.
Nathaniel's hand stopped halfway to his mouth, along with the spoon full of oatmeal in it. His eyes darted to his mother before snapping them back to his father and giving him a curt nod.
“Yes, Father.”
His mother faced her husband, a ring of bruises around her neck in the shape of a hand already starting to fade. “What is this about, Nathan?”
His father's eyes were back on the newspaper as he replied to her, “I have a business deal in West Virginia. Nathaniel will come along and observe.”
To most of the world, Nathan Wesninski was an established business man operating out of Baltimore, MD. A married man and a loving father to a boy who looked just like him.
Only the world didn’t know that Nathan Wesninski was actually the Butcher of Baltimore himself. Few people could stomach what The Butcher did to his victims, using a meat cleaver to chop them into unrecognizable pieces before discarding them. Nathaniel had to watch it for the first time at age 8.
Nathaniel was only curious which side of the family business this deal fell into.
Kevin Day stood tall and proud, even only being 2 years older and 3 inches taller than Nathaniel. His face was serious but he had an excited look in his fierce green eyes. He swiped his brown hair out of his face with one hand while he shook hands with Nathaniel with the other.
“Nice to meet you. Kevin Day, Striker.”
”Nathaniel, Backliner.”
Riko Moriyama stood at the same height as Nathaniel, but seemed to look down his nose at the younger boy all the same. His hair was raven black, a fitting color, and he had dark brown eyes that seemed as soulless as Lola's.
He took that as a sign alone to watch his back around the shorter boy.
His father's orders were clear when they arrived at Castle Evermore. He was to listen to the man who was introduced as Tetsuji, and play Exy until he came back to collect him. He knew who Tetsuji was, one of the creators of Exy, and was honored to even be in his presence. And he would be playing with Kayleigh Days’ son on top of it?
Nathaniel followed his father’s orders, happily for once.
Kevin and Riko played as strikers against him, while he played as a backliner. He lost himself in the game as he usually did, and Kevin seemed to eventually let loose and have some fun as well. Riko, however, kept his scowl in place. Tetsuji, who the other two referred to as The Master, called out plays and the boys executed them. At least, to the best of their ability with only 3 players.
The older boys were good, great even, but Nathaniel had his speed. He used his skills training to his advantage and flew around the court until Tetsuji called for them to do drills. He had done precision drills before, but was more adept at footwork, so he was a little embarrassed and felt out of place when Kevin executed them perfectly. Kevin placed the cones back up in a line along one wall, while Riko explained the Ravens Drills. The objective was to aim and launch the ball at the wall, with the intention of knocking down a specific cone with the rebound. Seemed easy enough.
Just when Nathaniel was lining up for his first shot, though, Tetsuji called them to a stop. When he looked back at the man, the small smile he didn't know he was wearing fell from his face immediately. His father stood beside the Ravens coach, suit rumpled, and red hair finger combed back. The smile on his fathers face was a sharp thing, and as cold as his icy blue eyes. Nathaniel knew exactly what to expect when he saw it, and rushed to his fathers side, taking off his gear as he went. At his obedience, Nathan's smile grew larger.
The Butcher led his son to an elevator and up to the 5th floor in tense silence. When they stepped off and into a large room, Nathaniel felt the switch flip in his head.
It did that, without him even having to consciously think about it anymore. He could dissociate, pull himself further from his body and his surroundings, when his mind felt threatened. At that moment, seeing a naked man strapped to a chair in the middle of a conference room, his mind felt fragile.
There were other men in the room, most appeared to be Japanese, while he also spotted Lola standing in a corner. One wall was made completely of windows, overlooking the collegiate court below, while The remaining walls were a deep red, and the men sat around a rectangular conference table. He didn't look away from the man in front of him, even while he scoped the room for threats and escape routes. He noted the tarp beneath the metal chair, and the black bag secured over the man's head. He saw his father move from beside him in his peripheral vision, and kept tabs on his every move.
Keep your eyes open and head on a swivel. His mother’s voice.
His father walked around his latest victim until he was standing at the man's back. He then raised a blade in his right hand, having gotten from the small table against the wall, and Nathaniel took that as his notice.
Don't watch the weapon at first, Junior, watch the attacker. That was Lola’s.
His reactions were sharp, they had to be, but his emotions were muted. He met his fathers eyes with a blank expression, only for his father to tilt his head ever so slightly. He had never noticed Nathaniel's absent mind before, and the boy hoped he didn’t then.
“Nathaniel. I’d like your assistance today. Join me?”
“Of course, Father.”
Nathaniel had done this dance before. Only speak when spoken to. Make precise comments, not orders. Do not show weakness.
“Where shall we begin?” His father asked.
He thought for a moment, not wanting to mess up his first public test.
“Do we need answers from him, or only to punish him?” He asked in turn.
It earned him a cruel, yet pleased smirk.
“I've already gotten our answers, but he still must be made an example of. He’s disloyal, and needs to pay for his blabbering.”
“Yes, Father,” Nathaniel conceded.
Over the course of the next hour, he told his father where to cut the man. How deep to go, and how long the laceration should be. The man's cries went in one ear and out the other while Nathaniel himself remained calm. He assumed the room was sound proof, considering no one else seemed bothered, so it must be a common enough occurrence. The man died at some point, and The Butcher wasted no time gathering his cleaver and chopped him into bits. Nathaniel stood perfectly still, as he had the whole time, until he heard a gagging noise behind him.
He turned his head slowly, making eye contact with Riko first. The older boy's eyes trailed his face, and he felt a warm liquid trailing down his cheek. He lifted a hand and swiped it away, then looked down at it. Blood. It was inconsequential to him, so he simply wiped it off on his shorts with a grimace. He heard another gagging noise as he did, and he glanced up again, this time eyes meeting Kevin’s. The taller boy had his hand to his mouth, while his eyes were frantic and filled with tears.
Nathaniel wasn't allowed to gag. Or cry. No matter how badly his body wanted to, his dissociation knew to keep it at bay. To save himself the effort of fighting the urges off more, he turned back around and ignored the pair.
After another hour of discussion in Japanese, at which time Nathaniel sat silently at one end of the table and Lola dealt with what was left of the man, they were finished. His father instructed him to address the older man at the head seat by Lord, and Nathaniel did so while saying goodbye with a bow. Satisfied, The Butcher took his son and his enforcer back to Baltimore.
At dinner that night, Nathan announced that Nathaniel would be accompanying him back to Castle Evermore the next day to close the deal.
By the next morning, however, Mary and Nathaniel were gone.