Behind the Mask: A Hannigram Fanfiction

16- Maiali

     As promised, Margot and Alana were nowhere to be found when the men arrived. Mason opened the door, greeting them with exaggerated hospitality, and they all entered the thankfully empty house. It felt hollow and soulless.
     "Gentlemen, gentlemen," Mason teased, "allow me to give you the tour."
     The house was unremarkable on its own— William suffered through Mason's unbearable jokes as he was shown around to bedrooms and dining rooms and rooms that honestly didn't seem to serve a purpose. He thought of Hannibal's unnecessarily massive entryway, the one that was only for show.
     "And here.." Upstairs, Mason stopped at a large set of wooden doors, quirking an eyebrow. "This is where the real magic is."
     He pushed the doors open to reveal a massive walkway, positioned over the barn where he kept the hogs. Sunlight streamed in through high windows, illuminating the otherwise dark barn. William looked over the fragile railing and saw hundreds of pigs, all squealing and packed together. They had no space at all, they were pressed against each other, and they were thinner than William thought they should be. They somehow got louder as Mason's voice rang throughout the room, as if there was some desperate hope that he would give them food.
     "The Verger supply." Mason grinned. "We boast the most efficient pork production in all of Italy, my friends, and you are now witness to it." He gazed over the railing with pride. "Up here, I can deliver their rations without them getting too vicious. One thing you may or may not know about hogs— they'll eat anything and everything. Including you or me. Can't get too close."
     "Then how do you kill them?" Hannibal asked.
     "That's a whole other room. I won't show you unless you're particularly interested." He gave a knowing smirk. "It kind of preserves the magic if it's hidden, doesn't it? Erases the guilt?"
     "I don't feel guilty for eating anything."
     Mason cackled loudly, leaning against Hannibal and slapping his arm. William had never met a man who acted so drunk when he was actually sober. "Good way to be!"
     William watched Hannibal's gaze harden the second Mason turned his back.
     "Now, my manners. God." Mason shook his head. "Drinks, Signores."
     The kitchen was too bright. Everything was too bright. He missed the cozy yellow aura of Hannibal's home.
     "Speaking of.." Hannibal gave William a meaningful glance. "We brought a host gift."
     William plastered on a smile and pulled the jar from his jacket pocket. "The finest olives in Florence. Can't get anything better than this. I personally know the family that grows them— only the best."
Mason cackled again, snatching the jar from William's hands. "You two are saints," he said, not offering any other type of thanks. "I'll fix you drinks."
They watched in silence as Mason prepared the gin and vermouth. He dispensed some ice into the mixing glass and stirred everything up, pouring the liquid into martini glasses.
"No olives for us, please," Hannibal interjected before Mason could garnish the drinks. "They're all yours. Don't waste them on guests."
Any decent person would shake this offer off and give their guests olives anyway. However, the selfish logic seemed to make perfect sense to Mason Verger— he gave the two their drinks without olives. William held back a sigh of relief.
"Anyway, come sit. I want to discuss some things with you two. Bring that mixer, if you think you'll want more."
The looks the two gave each other both had the same message behind them: this was an ominous statement. Did Mason know something he wasn't supposed to know? Were they finished before they could even begin?
William grabbed the pitcher and the jar of olives, impulsively pouring the arsenic-rich juice into the pitcher. He made sure that he set everything right next to Mason's chair. The olives were in front, right in his field of vision.
"Remind me not to refill," William hinted, glaring heavily at Hannibal. "Have to get up early tomorrow."
Hannibal gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"So." Mason pulled his olive off of the toothpick and stirred it around the drink. He began to pick his teeth. "You're aware of what happened to Frederick."
Hannibal nodded. "Indeed. I was apart of the autopsy."
"Really now?" He leaned forward. "Anything suspicious there?"
"We know something poisoned him. That's about it. We don't know the type, or when, or what exactly did it." Hannibal shrugged. "As much as I adore forensic examination, it's rather limited."
This was the exact reason that Hannibal could be scary sometimes. His lies rolled off the tongue as easily as the truth, and he had somehow found a way to poison someone without William even noticing he'd left the house. He could examine the body and cover his tracks while hiding the real truth.
"It's such a shame, isn't it?" Mason shook his head, but there was no sympathy in his eyes. "Y'know, my eyes are on the wife. But that's neither here nor there." He waved his hand dismissively. "The problem is that Frederick and I were business partners. We had a little arrangement going, and now it's all been cut loose."
"An arrangement?" William furrowed his brow.
"I shouldn't be telling you. It's a massive risk on my part." He drained his glass and refilled it, popping the olive in his mouth. "Wow. You're right, these are fresh. Good pick."
"Mason." Hannibal set his drink down. "We've been colleagues for many years now. Talking to me is not a risk. If I do not approve, the worst I can do is refuse and move on."
"Oh, there's a lot worse you could do in this situation. Send Crawford on my ass, is what you could do." He laughed. "Thing is...Chilton's the one who suggested it. Never really crossed my mind until he brought it up, swear on mia madre."
"Brought what up?"
"Frederick loved money, Dottore. More than he loved human life, if you catch my drift." He rubbed his thumb across his fingers.
Both of the men raised their eyebrows. "Mafia?" Hannibal asked.
"Oh, please. That codardo would piss himself if faced with the mafia. No, he was just a little crazy in the head, get me? Willing to do whatever he could for a bit of cash."
"So what did he offer you?"
"You will think I'm insane for taking it." He leaned far back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"A life for a lira?"
"All I will tell you is, the Verger fortune is massive." He took another swig. "And it is split evenly between Margot and myself. And Alana, well.. she's a Bloom. Plenty of riches under her little belt."
William was too stunned to speak. Hannibal didn't flinch, but there was something festering in his maroon eyes.
"You planned to kill your wife and sister for the money?"
"Hey, hey, Dottore, I never said that." He put his hands up, smirking. "He offered that to me. That's it."
"You said you accepted it."
"I accepted something." Another sip. "Does it really matter in the end? He's gone now. Whatever we agreed on is no longer in fruition. I'm guessing Bedelia got all of his money— the main reason I think she did it. Money is the ultimate corrupter, isn't it?"
"Certainly." Hannibal went the nonchalant route, as he typically did. He shrugged off the conversation and turned the tables towards another topic, one that William was only half paying attention to. As the minutes ticked by, each one unbearably long, Mason slowly began to grow less and less animated. He looked grey in the face as he sank into his chair. He set his drink down.
"Are you alright, Mason?" Hannibal asked with false concern. "You look ill."
"One too many, friends," he said, his voice quiet. "Give me a moment, please."
He shut his eyes for a second, then attempted to stand. He didn't make it far; mere seconds after he was on his feet, he collapsed to the ground, groaning.
"I..I'm not sure what's wrong." He clutched his stomach. "Help, Dottore."
Hannibal crouched on the floor next to him, feigning concern. "Mason? Do you feel faint?"
"Very."
"We will help you." He placed a hand on Mason's forehead. "You're not warm. Perhaps your liver could not handle this much alcohol. Is this your usual consumption?"
"I'm a rather heavy..heavy drinker.." Mason's eyes fluttered open and shut, open and shut, until finally they closed and his body went limp.
Hannibal moved quickly and with purpose. He scooped Mason off of the ground, reminding William of the way he'd been carried the night Hannibal drugged him. He set off for the stairs, carrying Mason like he weighed nothing.
William opened the barn doors for him. At the sound of the hinges, the hogs below them went wild. They could sense that something big was coming.
He didn't have to create a hole in the railing— much of the wood was already rotting. He gave one sagging area a few rough kicks, and it created a realistic break in the fence. It would look like Mason had tumbled over in a drunken state.
He stood by Hannibal, placing his hands under Mason as well. They shared a nod.
They pushed Mason over the railing.
His body fell limply like a doll's, and he landed in the pen with a sickening crack. They ran to a more sturdy part of the walkway and peered over at the action.
The hogs struck instantly. It was the most visceral sight William had ever seen, and this was only from a distance. He thought he could be violent— that was nothing compared to the pigs. They cried out in triumph as they dug into Mason's flesh, ripping it from the bone and spilling blood onto the hay. Their teeth sank into skin. They tore Mason's hair out in chunks, and then they went for the brain. No part was left unscathed. William saw red and pink and yellow and white and brown and even blue. It was an intriguing sight.
"Perhaps I was too rash in using 'pig' as an insult." Hannibal stuck his hands in his pockets. "There's clearly a use to them."
"The animal kingdom is more brutal than we give it credit for."
"We did it." Hannibal turned to William, and he was smiling. "We did it."
"Not yet, exactly," William reminded him. "Let us cover our tracks."
     They went to work making sure any trace of themselves was gone. They straightened the couch cushions and poured the contents of the pitcher into the yard, refilling it with the normal martini ingredients. They took up all three glasses, dumping out the liquid and placing two of them back in the cabinet. The other one was thrown over into the pigpen as well, to make it look like he'd fallen with his glass. If the pigs had the audacity to eat glass, that was their problem.
     It looked like there had been no guests in the house at all. They left the barn doors ajar and scurried out the back door.
     They then went to the market. Hannibal took off his hat, showing his face to everyone in the crowd, and as they walked around they exchanged friendly conversation with everyone they came across. Abigail was at home that day— William had sighed in relief when he saw she was missing. He didn't want to rope her into this.
     Witness after witness saw them in the market at nearly the exact time of day Mason died. No one knew they'd even been at the house— Margot had kept their visit from Alana. They even bought a few scattered goods to really make an impression.
     Right as William's watch struck three, Margot and Alana entered the market. Margot and William exchanged a glance, and a few minutes later the women were approaching them.
     "Doctor Lecter!" Alana beamed. "What a pleasure. How are you?" She was so much happier when she wasn't in the house, William realized. It was sad.
     "Mrs. Verger, so good to see you." Hannibal kissed the back of her hand politely. "I'm very well, thank you. I hope you're the same?"
     "Oh, we just got back from visiting my mother. It was such a lovely visit.."
     Her words dissolved as Margot turned to William, her eyes determined. "Where is he?" She asked him softly enough that only he could hear.
     William avoided her strong gaze. "..Feeding the pigs."
     Margot smiled. It was the first true sign of joy he'd seen in this woman.
     "Perfect."
She glanced quickly around the market, checking for onlookers, before slipping something from her pocket into William's. William didn't dare check now, not in front of everyone. He would have to wait until they got home.
"William?"
His head snapped up, and he saw Hannibal and Alana looking at him expectantly. Hannibal smiled.
"I was just telling Mrs. Verger about your origins," he said. "She says she has visited Louisiana."
William brightened, and the two were soon engaged in a lovely conversation about William's home state. William felt guilt eating away at him as he stared into her dark eyes, realizing that she would have to wake up tomorrow to a dead husband. Abusive or not, something like that would completely shake her. He hoped that the relief would outweigh that.
"We ought to get back before it gets too late," Hannibal finally said. "With everything going on lately.."
"Of course, of course." Alana's brows drew together. "It's horrifying. Luckily we're just around the corner. Shall we go, Margot?"
"I suppose we must." Margot shook hands with William and the two women stood next to each other. William recognized their body language, the way their upper arms were nearly pressing together. He and Hannibal were doing the exact same thing.
"Be safe, you two," he said. Margot nodded.
"Thank you." Her voice was serious. "Thank you."
And with that, the two women walked away.
"Now we've done it," William said.
Hannibal turned to him, looking just as casual as if they were having a normal conversation. "I want to kiss you very badly right now," he murmured over the chattering crowd. "I really want to."
"Save it for after dinner." William smirked. "I want to cook with you again— since I've gone to the trouble of providing the meat."
"In that case, I've decided I'm starving. Right now. Let's leave at once."
William laughed and ran to catch up with him as he speed-walked away from the market.
It hit him that a human heart was on the menu, and then it hit him that he didn't care.