#can y'all tell i'm an excat

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 22

Hannibal and y/n arrive at Camp Big Brother and receive an unusual greeting.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: guns, threats of violence, cult stuff, brief mention of North Korea 

The car ride up to the mountain introduced you to a new feeling. You thought it similar to that of prisoners on their way to be executed. The comfortable numbness of accepting your rapidly-approaching demise. 

The road only brought you so far. It turned into a dirt path, which then turned into just the imprint of tire tracks. Your car wasn’t equipped for mountainous terrain, so you had to get out and walk. You weren’t ill-prepared for a hike; you made a point to change clothes before leaving the house, and your work shoes were worn-in enough to withstand a trek through the forest. You only feared losing one of your gloves.

It was Hannibal you were worried about. You’d never seen him in anything but a full three-piece suit and today was no exception. He’d taken off his jacket and vest, but having to hike in suit pants and dress shoes was far from ideal. 

You were in the middle of a game of ‘how many 12 gauge bullets can I fit on my person’ when you heard the rumbling of an ATV coming down the track. You loaded a shell into the gun and watched it turn the corner and stop in front of you. Hannibal stood behind you, looking dignified as ever. 

The driver dismounted the vehicle and took off their helmet. The woman beneath the helmet looked like she’d either lived a hard 20 years or an easy 50 years. You didn’t pay much attention to her face. She looked nourished and had a head full of hair, so she wasn’t one of Chase’s slaves. 

“Are you ‘prefect’?” You asked, squinting at her from behind the gun. “Or ‘Aunt Lydia’?” 

“You must be [F/N] [L/N].” The woman said. “Vanguard sent me to pick you up, but didn’t say anything about a guest.” 

“What’s to stop me from blasting your head off, taking that ATV and going up there myself?” You spat. 

The woman disregarded your question. She pulled a walkie-talkie from her belt and clicked it on. “Vanguard, [L/N] is here and she brought a friend.” 

The device crackled, then Chase spoke. “Is it a cop?” 

The woman scanned Hannibal up and down. “No.” 

“Let her off with a warning, then.” Chase instructed. “She knew the rules.” 

“You heard the man.” She pulled a pistol from her holster and pointed it at Hannibal with full intentions to shoot him dead. He put his hands behind his head, but didn’t seem at all fazed. 

You aimed the gun at the woman’s head. “I don’t think you want to do that.” 

“Don’t waste your ammo, love.” Hannibal said to you. “She’s obviously bluffing.” 

“You want to find out?” She pulled the hammer back. 

“Hannibal, she’s not bluffing!” Your voice started to shake. 

“Yes she is, darling.” He insisted. “Nobody would be stupid enough to fire off a shot this close to an active naval base.” 

She lowered her pistol. “What are you talking about, there’s no military base up here.” 

“Of course there is.” He refuted. “Camp David is within a few miles of here.”

For a moment, she looked genuinely fearful. You thought you saw her cult mask begin to slip as she remembered that there was a world outside of the one Chase cultivated. 

“Oh.” Hannibal feigned surprise. “That is, unless, Chase Mulvaney didn’t tell you.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I’m his right-hand woman, he tells me everything.” 

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it seems he sees you as just as disposable as Catherine Miller. He sent you down here to kill anyone [F/N] brought along with her, catching the attention of the military personnel on base and ultimately throwing you under the bus.” 

“He wouldn’t.” She snapped. “Chase loves me like a sister.”

“I’ll bet that’s what he tells the other girls.” You commented. 

Judging by the look on her face, you were right. And you struck a nerve. 

“But, if you are so inclined to do Chase’s dirty work for him,” Hannibal said, loosening his collar. “At least try not to get blood on my suit pants.” 

She held the gun out for a few moments, then dropped it. “He would want to kill you himself.”

“That’s more like it.” You said, mounting the vehicle with your gun slung over your back. 

“Vanguard doesn’t mind two armed strangers on his property?” Hannibal asked, having to yell over the revving of the engine. 

The woman scoffed. “It doesn’t make any difference. Bullets don’t work on Vanguard.” 

You furrowed your brow. “What?” 

“Vanguard is blessed with the armor of Christ.” She said, with 100% conviction. There wasn’t a trace of irony or sarcasm in her voice. “No bullets can pierce his earthly flesh.” 

“Do you actually believe what you’re saying, or is this all some kind of fucked-up extended metaphor?” You asked. 

“Vanguard proved it in chapel.” She insisted. “He fired a gun at his chest and it didn’t puncture him! The bullet just crumpled against his chest.”

“Wow.” You said, flatly. This person’s rationality was so scrubbed away, she could be fooled by even the lamest of magic tricks. 

“The people of North Korea believe that Kim-Jong Il is responsible for inventing the hamburger.” Hannibal whispered to you. “Because they don’t have access to any information that proves otherwise.” 

“Yeah, we’re about to ‘prove otherwise’ alright.” You muttered back with a smile. 

After a few minutes, the outline of a building appeared. As you grew closer, you saw a cheaply-constructed cabin made for quantity, not quality. Next to it was a chapel, but it was only identifiable as such because of the massive cross. With industrial metal siding and no visible windows, it resembled a bomb shelter. 

The woman unceremoniously dumped you both off the ATV at an opening in the razor wire fence.

"Morning devotional is at eight." She explained. "You'll hear the bell ring. You'll be expected to attend, of course."

"I don't give a shit what you expect." You shook your head. "I don't owe you fucks anything."

"But you owe Jesus everything." She said, matter-of-factually.

“What in the Midsommar fuck is this?” You said, squinting in the early daylight. 

“Come on.” Hannibal took your gloved hand in his. “Let’s find our Will.” 

The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains off in the distance, coloring the sky as red as the blood on Chase's hands.

"It's going to be light soon." Hannibal whispered. "We only have so long before people start to wake up."

"So where do we check first?" You asked.

"At eight, the chapel will be full and the cabin will be empty." Hannibal pointed out. "That gives us fifteen minutes to search the chapel until people start filing in."

You nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

You snuck towards the entrance to the chapel and crept inside without a sound. One look and you knew you had a lot of ground to cover in only fifteen minutes.

The chapel looked like the inside of a shipping container. You knew that growing up Catholic gave you a certain image of how church should look, but this was hardly a structure, let alone a place of worship. Much like the outside, the only feature that identified this building as a church was the massive cross, which was not even mounted on the wall or suspended from the ceiling. It just laid lazily against the back wall. A couple of folding tables with some linens draped over them made up a bare-bones altar, decorated with nothing but a couple of candles. The high windows gave the chilling feeling that the room was underground.

"You'd think with ninety million dollars, they could afford some real chairs." You commented, looking disgustedly at the rows of folding chairs.

"This isn't a summer camp." Hannibal observed. "This is a military base."

Your foot hit a loose tile on the ground. You took a knee and grabbed it. A whole patch of tiles lifted with it, revealing a small secret door. 

“I think you might be on to something.” You said, looking up at Hannibal. 

You slung your gun over your back and carefully descended the ladder while Hannibal kept watch. 

“It’s dark down here.” You called up. You heard the striking of a match and Hannibal handed you a lit candle. You were about to thank him when the sharp tones of a bell cut through the silence. 

“Shit.” You cursed. “Hannibal, close the hatch.” 

“I’m not going to leave you.” Hannibal’s voice hardened. 

“This bunker is narrow as Christ’s asshole.” You said. “I can handle it. You need to investigate the cabin.” 

“Darling-” 

“Go to the cabin. Now.” You demanded. “I’m not asking.” 

Hannibal smiled down at you, feeling a sense of pride. He knelt down beside the trap door, and reached for your hand. He removed your glove and pressed his lips against your skin. “Godspeed, my indulgence.” 

You saluted. “And also with you.”