My Billionaire Neighbour from Hell

Chapter 8: Tic - Toc

CHAPTER 8:
TIC - TOC

There was something unbelievably alluring in Vincent's offer to help Nikolas that he just couldn't say 'no'. Imagine the situation where you had  perfect strategist to destroy one person, Satan even, by your side and you were to chose between dismissing him or letting him help. Exactly, you wouldn't even think about making a choice, you'd immediately accept him.

The same goes for Nikolas.

That explains why is he sitting at the attic of the house he grew in unpacking all boxes looking for something he wasn't sure off. All that Vincent told him was to look upstairs for "little devils" before ushering him inside and leaving for who knows where. Another thing he said was that the whole box was full of them, so he'll know what it is once he sees them.

He groaned, he finished unpacking over thirty boxes in the last fifty minutes and there were still no traces of box with same "devils" inside. All he ever found were photos, some weird toys he never saw before, rope, even more strangely shaped things, old clothes, two diaries, six guns, few knives and one shotgun. What the hell were they used for, he didn't really want to know.

"Nikolas!" he heard a voice of his father calling from the downstairs as he groaned. He forgot about him.

"What?" he yelled back as he closed the box he was currently dealing with before standing up. The hell with it, he gives up, whatever was supposed to be there, it was obviously not.

"Hurl your posterior I've been raising for thirty years down here right now!" he continued, "Or else..." Nikolas groaned, he was a real pain in the butt. Although his father seemed like a jerk - he won't, no he can't deny that fact - he was a really good person. Unless you get on his bad side, which was hard, but if it were to come to that point, he wouldn't hesitate to abandon you naked at the top of Big Ben. Lovely, isn't he?

"I'm coming," he sighed once again before he headed downstairs to Vincent.

He wasn't so surprised when he saw him eating pizza in now demolished bedroom as he dragged something from under the bed.

"Sorry, this was my fault. It was never among the rest, I left it under this bed," was all Vincent said with a shrug as Nik glared at his way silently cursing some incompetent words. Luckily for him, Vince heard nothing.

"Why are you standing there?" he pointed at Nik who's leaning on the door frame, "Serve yourself," he added as Nik saw box of pizza on the chair near by before shrugging. He hadn't eaten anything since he woke up thanks to the certain midget. Getting inside and taking a piece of it, he turned to see what was in the box his father took.

"What were those things upstairs used for?" he casually asked when Vincent groaned.

"War," he simply replied trying to remove all those tapes from the box as Nik scrunched his eyebrows I'm confusion.

"What war? Did it belong to grandpa or something?" he asked before taking a bite. Good ole Italian pizza.

"What, no! You know he wouldn't settle for anything but sword, some stupid pride of our ancestors or whatever. This family is fucked up," he almost choked on pizza upon hearing that. Vincent critiquing their family was something he never witnessed in his thirty years. It was no secret that Vincent hated it, but he never really gave a damn about it or spoke it out loud.

"It belonged to me and your mother. I told you we fought often," he continued making Nik rise his eyebrow. Shotgun? Why the hell did the use a shotgun for?!

"There was a real shotgun upstairs, what the hell was it even doing there?!" he cried out in desperation. What was wrong with times they lived in.

"Ah, that? She tried to kill me on the first night she came here. Missed my ass by pure luck. Feisty woman, I'm telling you," he gently chuckled. Nikolas wanted to say something, but the tired look in his father's eyes prevented him from doing so. All of sudden, Vincent stood up, cursed loudly before climbing on his bed and taking one of two swords from the wall, he used it to slice the tape from the box.