~Cleoi, Oxzy's apartment~
The hero woke up with a start. Sweat dripped down his face, and his mind raced at the sound of loud booms coming from all around him. Panting, he looked around his room, thinking the sound had come from within—only to quickly realize it had come from outside his window.
He shot up from his bed, almost falling back down from the pain rushing through him. He drew in a sharp breath. "Aahrg…"
Ignoring the pain, he quickly located the window and looked outside, trying to find the source of the sound. Distant sirens wailed; looking to his left, he could make out only smoke.
Smoke could have come from anything in this town, but Oxzy knew better. It had to be something from the villain—the reason he had woken with such adrenaline and fear already coursing through his body. He hadn't even felt the pain when he first woke, too on guard from the blast.
The hero slowly sank to the carpeted floor, his legs trembling beneath him as his bare skin, exposed below his shorts, caught a cold breeze. He sat on the floor in front of the window, holding his ribs in pain, breathing growing difficult as his heart raced.
"Mhhh… Errrg…!" *Calm down… calm down!*
He repeated the comforting words in his mind, trying to slow his racing heart so he could heal. Slowly, he convinced himself he was safe, that the villain and the people had no way of knowing where he was, that the blast hadn't killed anyone, that it hadn't been near him.
A small amount of worry remained, but he knew everything he told himself was true, and the more he repeated it, the calmer he became. The calmer he grew, the faster he would heal. He had already mended some of his broken ribs, though much more healing was still needed before he'd return to normal.
The longer he stayed in his safe home, the more his mindset settled into calm. He would heal everything himself—his body could mend quicker and more easily than a "normal human's," much like he guessed was true for Pierce.
"Aahhh…."
Sighing as the pain slowly faded into a dull ache, Oxzy curled in on himself, arms covering his head as if for protection, legs drawn close to his wounded chest.
The calmness spreading through him would not last long.
~Daylight, marketing circle~
Breathing out a heavy sigh, Mercy crossed her arms with a tired look. She had been waiting for Pierce for the past hour, leaning against the brick wall outside the circle market. She and her friend had planned to spend the weekend shopping—or, in their case, stealing. Mercy wasn't stupid, though; she knew that if she wanted free stuff, she needed Pierce's help.
Yet he still hadn't shown up. She let out a frustrated sigh, pulled away from the wall, and walked forward, dialing Pierce's number again.
The beeping stopped as she moved the phone from her ear. She growled under her breath, realizing he had turned it off. Still, she didn't want her day ruined, so she turned around, fumbling through her black leather purse.
She didn't find what she was looking for. Glancing around, she caught sight of something interesting—a sly smile crossed her lips as she rounded the corner toward an old couple just leaving a small bakery. The woman wore bright jewelry; her husband's rings shone as brilliantly as his glasses.
Bingo.
Mercy smiled, quickening her pace, heels clicking with each heavy step. The couple heard her approach but were too absorbed in conversation to notice until she bumped her shoulder into the woman's purse.
The old woman stumbled, nearly falling if not for her husband catching her. She groaned, looking down at Mercy, who had dropped to one knee.
"Sweetie, are you alright?" the woman asked, bending down to help her up. Mercy gave a shy smile and nodded. Once both were standing, the old woman smiled sweetly. "In a rush, huh?"
"Yeah, sorry about that…" Mercy said, brushing back her short brown hair with a shy smile. The old woman returned the smile, patting her on the head. "Thank you," Mercy added, waving the couple goodbye and walking off in small, timid steps.
Once they were out of sight, Mercy examined what she had taken from the woman's purse—a small bag of coins. Opening it, she realized she was luckier than she'd thought: the coins were all dollar coins, and there looked to be around forty of them.
*That's enough for a drink and smokes,* she thought, slipping the pouch into her pocket and heading toward a Starbucks.
After grabbing a drink, she sipped it while checking for the nearest smoke shop. Finding none within walking distance, she considered calling Pierce again—but just as her finger hovered over the call button, someone called her name.
Felix, grinning brightly, strode toward her, his hand raised in a wave. A few thuggish-looking guys trailed behind him, wearing matching grins. Mercy rolled her eyes, unnoticed. She took another sip, waiting for her younger brother and his "friends" to close the distance before she spoke.
When they were near enough, Felix flashed a joyful smile that almost passed as genuine. Mercy saw something lurking behind it but gave no reaction. "Are you waiting for Pierce?"
"Is it obvious?" Mercy responded with a smile.
"I mean, when you're bored you always call him."
Mercy gave a sly but knowing smile. "You're good at observing, huh."
One of the guys behind Felix, who had a shaved head, a scruffy body, and clothes barely covering his tattooed skin, smiled proudly. "Our boss is incredibly smart and observant!"
Another one who looked almost the same but was a bit shorter and had his hair pulled back replied, "Exactly! I don't even know why Pierce can't notice it."
Felix's eyes twitched lightly, unnoticed by the men behind him. A man next to him put an arm around his shoulder, grinning like the rest. "Yeah, I mean, since he's the most feared man here, you'd think he'd be smart enough to see it!"
Laughter followed from his fellow companions, but Felix stayed silent. The man who had spoken looked down at his boss. His face turned pale, fear rolling across it. Recoiling into himself, he pulled away and gave a bow of apology.
Mercy gave a shocked look, seeing how the younger brother reacted when someone talked down about Pierce. She couldn't help but feel more interested in Felix. When she'd first met the young boy, she'd thought of him as a little nerd who followed his elder brother everywhere.
Now. Now something clicked in her brain.
A smile formed on her lips, and just then Felix turned back to her. He gave a small smile of apology. "I'm sorry. They don't know how to shut up sometimes."
"Of course." Mercy replied, licking the coffee from her lips. She gave the younger man a look, ignoring the goons who tried to draw attention away from him.
He's good, she thought to herself.
A buzz came from her jeans pocket. She pulled out her phone to see a text from Pierce. She smirked, put the phone away, and turned around.
"Fun talk, boys." She waved them goodbye.
Before disappearing, she turned her head and looked at Felix walking away, a few ideas forming in her mind.
The ideas followed her, and she only stopped when a familiar voice called out beside her. "Thinking about your vibrator?" Pierce said in a low, emotionless tone.
Mercy gave an annoyed huff. "Strangely enough, no." Turning to him, she shot a glare. "What the fuck took you so long? I've called you and waited almost an hour."
"I've taken longer. Don't let your panties get in a twist."
"Seems like yours already are," Mercy replied snarkily.
Pierce smirked, seeing how easily his friend read him. She didn't bother prying; having known him since middle school, she already knew all his drama and angst. "Well, you don't seem bored. I'm guessing you found something to keep you entertained." Pierce glanced at Mercy's drink and shook his head. "Something that could please you."
"Coffee is great at making me wet," Mercy replied, taking a sip from the drink.
"Well, you know what I mean. You're a slut for something stronger than coffee."
Mercy pondered for a moment, brightening when she realized what Pierce meant. "Boys?" she asked.
Pierce gave her a look, showing she didn't need to ask to know what he meant. She hit his shoulder with a growl. "That's only sometimes! Unlike boys, coffee can satisfy me till the end."
Pierce laughed loudly, shaking his head and causing the already watchful eyes nearby to fearfully look away. Mercy stuffed her drink into his hands, shushing him before he drew more attention. Pierce took the drink and sipped some of it. He didn't get the same high from coffee that his friend did, and he handed it back without any reaction to the taste.
"Why act so nonchalant?" Pierce asked, noticing her looking around. "You're with me. You're going to get attention no matter what."
"Well, since you were late, I got thirsty but didn't have any money. So I stole from a little old lady."
Pierce made a pff sound, looking around mockingly. "Really? Is she going to swoop in with the police?"
"Shut up! It was a good amount of money," Mercy defended, earning an eye roll from her friend.
"How much?"
"Forty bucks, asshole," she replied confidently, pulling up the pouch to show the coins. Pierce looked it over, patting her on the back with a phony smile. She elbowed him in the chest, making him stagger away.
Pierce held his chest with a tight look, moving his hand over his shoulder to steady himself. "Could have waited longer. You know I could've gotten something better." He winked at the already annoyed woman.
She looked at him, noticing how he held himself. "Is the wound still hurting? It's been a few days—shouldn't it be gone by now?" Mercy had been with him after bad fights before; she'd seen him heal in just a day. Sometimes it took longer, depending on how serious the wound was and how calm his environment was while healing.
Normally, his environment was chaotic, so healing took longer in some cases. But this wound was small.
Pierce could feel a small amount of concern from the woman—not seeing it, but sensing it nonetheless. "It's almost done. I just reopened it yesterday, so it should be gone by tomorrow."
"What the fuck did your dumb ass do?" she asked. He tilted his eyes away in a falsely "shameful" look. She could tell he didn't feel bad about it at all. She could also guess what he'd probably done—used too much energy to power that side of him, causing a rip in his already broken skin.
It must have taken a strong amount of energy, she thought. Maybe he'd fought with someone, or been attacked and fought his way out. That seemed the only reason for him to use that much strength.
Instead of letting her mind wander, Mercy thought it better to ask. "What even happened to get you so worked up?"
"I don't know," he replied with a shrug. Mercy only growled at him, seeing that he was bothered by the thought yet refused to explain. He normally told her everything—he was closer to Mercy than to his entire family.
Only one person was closer to Pierce than anyone.
"Was it Rosamee?" Mercy decided to ask. She noticed a small twitch in his jaw at the mention of her name.
Right.
"Even if it was, I handled it on my own. It's done and over with." He gave her a slight glare of warning. "So don't talk about it."
"About what you did yesterday, or about Rosamee?" Mercy prodded, no fear in her voice or in her look at Pierce's threat. The villain growled under his breath in clear annoyance, knowing Mercy would just keep pestering him about it, and went along with the tattooed woman.
His hands went behind his head, and he closed his eyes as if meditating. Mercy kept prodding with more questions, finally giving up when Pierce started commenting on the weather.
~Formay, Police Station~
Milo had just gotten a call back from the hospital. He was told that his partner would have to stay for over a month due to serious burns, meaning he'd need to find a replacement for the time being.
Jamisen had been badly shaken after everything. When he got calls about an incident involving Pierce, he was tempted to hang up. He made it seem unimportant so he wouldn't have to deal with it. He visited Ronny a few times, checking on his health and secretly wanting revenge.
He was too afraid to actually seek it, though. He only thought about it, then left to finish his work and return to the station to continue his dull routine. At one point, a few officers rushed past him. He turned to his sheriff in concern. "Sir? What's going on here?"
"They're training for the new position," Milo answered without looking up.
Jamisen stopped in his tracks, turning to his officer. "You're replacing him already?!" he said in a rush, anger flashing at the thought.
Milo let out a frustrated sigh. "We need to, Jamisen. Someone has to take that position for the time being." He looked up, seeing the hurt in his partner's eyes. "When Ronny gets better, he'll be back in his position. But for now, someone needs to take over."
"Then what are you even doing? That lack of leadership when Ronny was on fire made the burns even worse!" Jamisen yelled, stepping closer and drawing the attention of fellow officers. "If you had just stopped the fight, it wouldn't have gotten this bad!"
"I did stop the fight! Ronny's alive, isn't he?!" Milo shot back, slamming his hands on the desk and sitting up.
"That doesn't mean he's fine! You're our sheriff—I trusted you to handle the situation, but no! Not only was Ronny injured, but the prisoners got away!" Jamisen argued, making his point while his sheriff shook with anger. "And what are you doing? Looking for a damn replacement?!"
"I'm doing what I'm supposed to do!" Milo looked down, his blond hair covering his rage-filled face. "Once the replacement is finalized, I'll start looking into the missing prisoner. I already know where the fuck he is, since Pierce got him out." Milo looked up at his second-in-command one last time. "Now piss off."
With those hateful words, Milo sat back down, ignoring the anger radiating from Jamisen. The officer spun around and stormed out the door, past the concerned looks of his colleagues. Milo stayed hunched over his desk, shuffling through papers, his thoughts spiraling and frustrating him further.
Milo pushed the papers aside and pulled out a new stack listing his partners. Skimming through the names and information of those who had signed up for the position, his mind couldn't help but wander to the hero.
He kept thinking back to the moment after the officer had dropped him off. The man had limped into the dark without looking back at Milo, who watched him go. Milo had been tempted to run after him, to bring him home and heal him under his own careful watch. It was a strange urge, one he'd never felt before.
The officer felt his face heat up, thinking about how he'd held him—his body close, light, soft, and slim, easy to hold. Milo blushed furiously at the intrusive thought. He shouldn't be thinking about the hero this way. He'd never thought of him like that before…
Oxzy was the strongest and bravest man in town—not someone meant to be fantasized about in lewd situations, not someone meant to be imagined on the bottom. But Milo couldn't help himself. His face reddened, his body ached at the mere thought of touching him, of running his hands down his back and further still, his whole body flushed with heat.
He used to think of Oxzy only with annoyance, seeing him as reckless, lucky, and spoiled.
But now… he imagined something different—the slim, curly-haired man with pale, porcelain skin and delicate eyelashes.
"Ugh!"
His hand slammed the desk, sending papers fluttering to the floor. Milo sat in silence, his body trembling, his feelings churning in his mind like a damaged washing machine.
He couldn't help it.
He had to see the hero again.