The Hangover, Part 1. (Phil Wenneck X OC.)

Chapter 12.

Walking back into the hotel, and receiving looks from people who were definitely confused why the 4 was beat to shit, they piled into the elevator and ascended back up to their villa. Brooklyn had received her gun back after Phil repeatedly told her to keep calm as he gave it back.

All she wanted to do was just go home.

Nap in the car on the way back to let her body heal before watching her big brother get married to the love of his life.

Have a much needed conversation with Phil regarding everything they'd been put through.

And shower.

"Wait guys. Guys," Alan said quietly from behind Stu as Phil was just about to open the door. "What about the tiger? What if he got out?"

"Oh, fuck," Phil groaned. "I keep forgetting about the god damn tiger. How the fuck did it get in there?"

"I don't know," Stu answered, turning to Alan in annoyance. "Because I don't remember," He finished, his voice louder than it should be in a quiet hallway of a hotel.

People were probably in their rooms minding their own business, and here was Stu being loud.

"Shh. Stu, Stu, keep it down," Phil hushed, carefully and quietly opening the villa door.

"Because one of the, uh, side effects of, uh, roofies is memory loss," Alan said as if they weren't aware of that already.

Brooklyn shook her head at him, her hand clenching into a fist which she fully intended on socking Alan in the face with before taking a deep breath. "Yeah, we know that. For fuck's sake," She whispered angrily.

"You are literally too stupid to insult," Stu tried to insult, staring at Alan dumbfounded.

"Thank you."

"Hey," Phil whisper-shouted at the two, continuing to open the door, quietly yelling at Alan and Stu to follow him and Brooklyn in.

As they entered the villa, music was playing in the surround sound speakers, bringing Phil to turn to Brooklyn. "Did we leave the music on?"

Brooklyn shrugged as the door to the room slammed shut, Alan being the one who did it, to which they hushed at him once again. "Don't make any sudden movements," Phil ordered, slowly walking through the entryway of their room.

Brooklyn felt so much like she was on a case—slowly walking through a dark room, being quiet with her gun and flashlight drawn while she tracked down a criminal—, that her muscle-memory made her pull out her gun and hold it out in front of her, obviously not intending anything, her hands reacting before her head could.

Just as he began to turn the corner, Phil bumped into someone, scaring him and his 3 friends. "Who the hell are you?!" He shouted as Stu screamed, Alan jumped and Brooklyn aimed her gun at the intruder.

"No, who the hell are you?" A large black man, with a goatee and wearing a fedora and other really nice clothing, asked, before realizing he had a gun on him. "Would you mind asking your lady friend to lower her weapon?" He asked, his hands up.

"Brooks," Phil nudged her shoulder, gently lowering her hands with his own.

"Quiet! Quiet!" Another man said from across the room, sitting at the piano.

The group turned their heads towards him as he turned around, revealing himself as Mike Tyson.

"Mike Tyson?" Both Phil and Brooklyn said in shock, and awe, and bewilderment as Mike rose from the piano bench. Alan and Stu were just as shocked, their jaws pretty much on the floor.