Aftg react

Part54

Foxes react: chapter8 part1

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For once Neil woke up before Matt's alarm sounded. He lay still for a minute, then rolled over and switched his own alarm off. He flipped his phone open to stare at the date. It was Friday, January 19th. "Neil Josten" was supposed to turn twenty on March 31st. Today Nathaniel Wesninski turned nineteen years old. Neil had never made a habit of celebrating his birthday, but each one he was alive for deserved a moment of silence. He rubbed his thumb over the date on his small screen and made a wish that they'd win against Belmonte.

They didn't know how this was possible they had went to bed the night before and had woken up here the next morning but somehow they are now watching something that has yet to happen, it was so shocking they almost bypassed what day Neil said it was but they didn't say anything.
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By the time they left for the stadium an hour out from serve he was going crazy.
The locker room smelled faintly of bleach and window cleaner. Neil had never understood the point of cleaning the locker room before a game, but a small crew came by every day. The smell was usually gone by the time the Foxes showed up for practices, but Neil assumed game day campus traffic had slowed them down. It explained why Wymack was sitting on the entertainment center instead of holed up in his office, though. Wymack claimed he was allergic to cleaning materials. Abby thought it an uncreative excuse for the unkempt state of his apartment, but Wymack stubbornly maintained his story.

Wymack protested against the laughter that was happened and against Abby's sigh "is it that hard to believe" said Wymack ignoring whatever answer came next.
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He twisted his combination into the lock on his gear locker and pulled the door open. There was a split second of unexpected resistance, then a sharp pop of something breaking.

This was weird from what they know there really is nothing in their lockers that could cause something like that and somehow it gave them a awful feeling about what was goin to happen.
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And then—blood.
It exploded in his locker, triggered by the door opening, and Neil recoiled as it cascaded over everything inside. The smell of it was so thick it clogged his throat and choked him.

For a moment they thought it was a joke and there was no blood maybe a hallucination from staying there watching the screen for so long it happened to quickly but then it started to come together, horror and shock was everywhere there even was more than just a hint of surprise on Andrew's face.
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Neil's shock only lasted for a white-hot second before panic took over. He dove at his locker, grabbing for his uniform and gear. It was too late and he knew it, but he had to try. His jersey squelched in his hands like a swollen sponge, spurting blood all over his fingers. He dropped it and scrabbled for his helmet. His fingertips grazed hard plastic but couldn't latch on before Matt grabbed him.

The scene before them made them sick in their stomach and breathing felt hard, question was who and for what?
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"No," Neil said, but Matt hauled him away from his locker. "Wait!"
He dug his feet in, but the tread of his shoes were soaked and slid across the ground. The blood had hit the bottom of his locker and was now spilling onto the floor in a swiftly-spreading puddle. Hanging from the top of his locker was an empty plastic bag, rigged to tear open when the door pulled too wide. It looked big enough to hold at least two gallons; it was more than big enough to destroy every single piece of gear Neil owned.
"Nicky," Andrew said, "get Coach."
Nicky bolted. Neil elbowed Matt as hard as he could. Matt cursed as he lost his grip on Neil. Neil ran back to his locker, skidding a little as he got closer. He had to catch himself on the neighboring locker to keep from falling. As soon as he had his balance he frantically unloaded everything piece by piece. He couldn't tell his Home and Away jerseys apart anymore. Even the padding on his armor was wrecked. Neil picked his helmet up and turned it to watch blood slide off the hard plastic face guard.
"Neil?" Matt asked. Neil dropped the helmet to the pile at his feet and punched the back of his locker. His fist hit plastic instead of metal, and Neil wrenched the broken bag off its hook. When he turned to throw it Andrew caught his wrist. Neil hadn't even heard Andrew cross the room toward him. Neil stared at him and through him, heart pounding in his temples.
"It's ruined," Neil said, voice ragged with an awful rage. "It's all ruined."

It broke them to see Neil like that and to see all of his things destroyed, they knew that whoever it was that did this they wanted him to pay for it.
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Wymack burst into the room with Nicky on his heels. The sight of so much blood stopped him short for a moment before he strode for Neil. "Is that yours?"
"Coach, my gear," Neil said. "It's—"
"It's not his." Andrew let go of Neil and went back to his own locker. "He's fine."
"Peroxide," Neil said. "Does Abby have any in her office?" When Wymack just looked at him, Neil started for the door to find some himself. Wymack put an arm in his way to stop him. "I need to clean my clothes before the blood sets or I won't have anything to wear tonight."
"And I need you to derail that one-track fucking mind of yours for two seconds and focus on the fact that you are covered in someone or something's blood. Are you okay?"
"Andrew already said I'm fine," Neil bit out.
"I'm not asking Andrew," Wymack said. "I'm asking you."

Somehow even after knowing Neil for so long and knowing that this was his default reaction to everything serious it  frustrated them how he didn't just say the truth at asked for help.
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"Here, I've got an extra towel," Matt said, and dug one out of his
open locker. He hurried to the bathroom to soak it in the sink but jerked to a stop as he was turning back to them. His startled voice echoed off the bathroom walls. "What the hell?"

They were even more worried know they didn't know what Matt had seen but they all had a feeling that it had something to do with what happened in the locker room they just hopped it was not the body of whatever's blood it was.
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Neil knew better than to look, but he went anyway. Wymack and Andrew were right behind him. Neil followed Matt's gaze to the far wall and felt his stomach bottom out. Written in blood across the tile was a bold message: "Happy 19th Birthday, Jr.".
Neil's head filled with static and screams. The strident mumble in the background was out of place and it took Neil an eternity to realize that sound was coming from his teammates.

It was better than what they thought but they saw that whoever has done this knew how to hurt Neil and did that exactly, their anger grew more and more by the second.
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The world came back into focus in jagged pieces, just in time for Neil to hear Wymack mutter something about calling the police. Neil grabbed his elbow before Wymack turned away and squeezed so hard he felt bones creak.
"Coach," he said, as calmly as he could. "You're going to have to leave them out of this one. Okay? Let's just get through the game. I'll clean this up afterward. No one else has to know."
"Give me one good reason not to cancel the game and pull security in here," Wymack said.
"I can't give you that yet," Neil said, slanting a look at him. "I told you to wait until May."
He willed Wymack to remember the promise he'd made on New Year's Eve when Wymack challenged his lies and scars. He hadn't told Wymack he was on the run, but he'd cut it close enough Wymack should have put the pieces together. Neil needed him to remember that now and figure out the obvious: Riko's men wouldn't have left evidence behind, but Neil had prints all over the place. Wymack said nothing but studied Neil with a disquieting intensity.

"There is no way that he suggesting to just push all that under the rug and not call the police" said Alison with white anger in her voice and she had the right to be, it was absurd how Neil just wanted to let it pass "if you paid attention that is what he said" said Andrew with a bored tone, he was doing it to just mess with her and it worked as she send him a glare.