~The Grubs, warehouse~
Mercy stood surrounded by Felix's gang members. Questions came at her from all sides, all about the villain's whereabouts. She had told the members that she would bring Pierce and show him this place—acting as if it were her "hook up" spot, but really just doing what Felix had begged her to do.
She did so, earning an infinite supply of smokes for it.
But what was taking him so long? She had walked here with him only for the villain to stop for a piss. She knew he hadn't actually stopped for that; he wouldn't take this long for something so simple. Still, she grew increasingly angry at the thought of him ditching her. He had done it before with Rosamee, more than once. So him doing it again wasn't so far-fetched.
Right as the members went to fetch Felix, the young man strolled out of the back office to see what his men were all talking about at once. It was the perfect moment for the villain to march in.
A deadly expression masked his face, his shoulder sleeves burned from the fire he had engulfed himself in. Despite that, he'd enjoyed the little chat Oxzy had given him, even without getting an answer as to why the hero had been there at all. It was still something other than fighting.
Surprisingly, the villain liked that.
The gang members looked fearful at the sight of the villain's expression, keeping a few feet of distance as he walked toward Mercy. She gave him a smirk, her eyes rolling. "Something happen while you were 'pissing?'"
"Yeah, a rat bit my dick," the villain said, rolling his eyes back, his voice thick with sarcasm.
Mercy turned her attention to the figure coming up behind him. Felix was followed by his men, fear on their faces while his was filled with excitement. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of his brother standing in the place where he'd gained all his power.
He couldn't wait to share everything he'd accomplished. Only, he stopped when he noticed the look on Pierce's face. The villain didn't seem to see him at all—or if he did, he seemed bored, as though someone were bothering him.
Felix cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to their boss. Pierce felt bored, with Mercy leaning on him while she lit a cigarette. Felix held in a growl as he spoke. "Brother, I'm happy you're here! Now I can show you what the gang has been doing."
"It smells like meth in here," was all Pierce said in response.
The woman leaning on him giggled, letting out a few puffs of smoke. The men around them sneered faintly, a prick of resentment in their chests at the mocking tone Pierce used to describe their base of operations.
"Well, we have something stronger than meth, brother," Felix replied, stepping closer to Pierce, who gave him a small eye roll. The younger brother ignored it. "That's what I wanted to show you. I want you to know what power we have—how much money we can make from this!"
"If Zella knows about this, you're not gonna be making much," the villain responded.
The younger brother understood exactly what he meant. Clenching his teeth, he considered it for a few seconds. "She may be part of it. But trust me, this will be bigger than you think."
"Then I think?" Pierce pretended to ponder, looking down at Felix, who didn't flinch away. His eyes sparkled, annoying Pierce. The villain would rather face the hero who sneered and hurled insults at him than the little brother who gazed at him like a savior. It infuriated him, making him want nothing more than to bury the boy who called him brother.
Felix read what he took for doubt in the villain's dark brown eyes. "How about I show you what it can do? Then you'll believe how much this will change everything."
His voice dimmed, his eyes darkening with a secret hidden behind them. Mercy looked up from the villain's shoulder, seeing right through the younger man. She wanted to prod, to learn more of what he intended to reveal.
The young leader motioned to the men behind him. In a quick, messy scramble, the big, grubby men hurried back to the office.
The villain and the woman leaning on him didn't know what to expect. To Pierce, Felix was just a small, nosy rat who jumped on any opportunity to please people—faking everything just to get what he wanted. So when one of the muscled men emerged with a body in tow, bound and writhing wildly, the villain couldn't help but smirk in astonishment.
Felix didn't move an inch as one of his men roughly shoved the thrashing figure onto the floor in the middle of the circle surrounding them. The man looked somewhat familiar to Pierce—he realized it was the guy who'd been with Randy in the cell he'd broken him out of. He must have escaped too, but now he was caught in the merciless grasp of the gang he'd crossed.
"Argh!" he yelled as he was dragged along the floor.
Felix reached out his hand without looking back, and one of his men handed him two small pouches of bright blue dust. It wasn't shiny—just a solid dust, as far as Pierce could tell. The young man knelt in front of the weeping, bound man, now at the mercy of the gang.
"I'll test this on him to show you, brother. I already killed Randy, and I saw this mouse poking around the lake for him," Felix explained, looking up at Pierce, who stood with his arms crossed.
The bound man looked at Pierce too, tears welling in his eyes as if pleading to be saved. The villain gave him no reaction, yawning as though bored, and Felix's smile faltered.
The villain glanced around at the shocked, unnerved faces surrounding him. He ignored them, stifling a laugh against the shoulder of the high woman still leaning into him.
"Well?" he asked, turning back to Felix. "Go on, I don't have all night to waste on you."
Felix shook his head, forcing an embarrassed smile. "O-Of course!" he said, feeling foolish for angering his brother. All he wanted was to make him proud—to show him he was worth noticing, maybe even worth liking.
He refocused on the pleading man on the cold warehouse floor, determination filling his thoughts. He held the small plastic bag to the man's face, opened it, and tapped some onto his palm before explaining.
"The drug works differently depending on how you use it. Starting with the less fun way," Felix said, bringing the blue dust to the man's nose. The man tried to pull away, but one of Felix's men held his head in place. "If the person only gets a small dose up the nose, a paralyzed, almost euphoric feeling spreads through their head, leaving them trapped."
"A-Ah…" The man convulsed, his eyes rolling back, his mouth hanging open, jaw turning white. Only the whites of his eyes showed; his mouth gaped painfully, drool spilling from his lips. A sickening sound rose from his throat. "Grr, ugrm…" It was as if his vocal cords were testing whether they still remembered words. No words came—only soft, strange noises.
"But if you put the same amount in their mouth…" Felix continued, dropping the rest of the packet onto the man's tongue. The man seemed to surge with sudden energy, lifting his head from the grip of the man holding his hair, jerking away violently.
"Grraaagh! Aggh!!"
Foam ran from his lips, a sharp cry tearing from his throat. It was loud and agonized; his throat bobbed as a sickening mix of yellow and red spewed from his cracked, dry lips.
"It acts like a poison. Once it's in their mouth, it mixes with their insides fast. It churns everything up, and he throws it all back out," Felix explained further, looking down at the suffering man with a neutral expression.
The man collapsed to the floor once the man behind him let go. Still bound, he shook violently as blood and vomit pooled beneath his mouth.
"Blarghh! Arrrahg!!" he screamed in pain, his mouth twitching.
Felix stood, glancing at the second bag in his hand. "I don't know if I should show what happens with more—we don't have a lot." He looked back down at the now-motionless man, who had stopped seizing within seconds. His eyes remained white, as if possessed, blood and fluid still seeping from his slack jaw even in death. "A human body can only take a small bag's worth before it dies."
The young leader turned to his brother. Pierce gave him a smile, his eyes expressionless—but that smile was all Felix needed to send his heart racing. His body flushed, excitement and a thrilling pleasure coursing through him, raising goosebumps on his skin.
His excitement faded when a voice cut through his thoughts. "What would happen if you put it in his mouth first, not his nose?" Mercy asked, still standing behind Pierce but no longer leaning on him, her face twisted in disgust. Her eyes lingered on the man still pooling blood from his mouth. Feeling sick, like the tall, built men around her, she looked away.
Only Felix and Pierce seemed unbothered by the display before them. Felix turned to answer her question, still buzzing with pride at Pierce's smile. "It would mute them—they'd still vomit and feel the burning pain, but they wouldn't necessarily die."
Mercy nodded, turning to study a suddenly fascinating wall, much like the other men around her. Felix kept his focus on his brother, waiting for a response.
Pierce sighed loudly. "It's interesting, Felix. It's more like a poison than a drug."
His words caught the young leader off guard. He shook his head, hands raised. "Y-Yeah! That's when it's taken orally! I mean, it has qualities of both poison and drug, brother—"
"A drug is something someone becomes addicted to," Pierce explained, walking toward the corpse, hands in his pockets, head tilted. His younger brother braced for what was coming. "I mean, it might be addictive. Have you tried it yourself to find out?" Pierce flashed a malicious smile at his frozen brother, his foot landing on the dead man's stretched, slack cheek. "Let's ask him if he wants more. Huh? Don't you feel that exciting rush?"
Felix pressed his lips together, eyebrows knitting as he absorbed his brother's words. Pierce stepped closer, blood dripping from his stained shoes. "This doesn't concern me. I can do what I do without a poison that takes dozens of men to produce." Pierce gave his brother a mocking look. "You did great on something. But it has nothing to do with me."
The villain walked past his brother, who stood frozen like a statue. The men around him watched as he strode out of the building without a second glance, bloody footprints trailing behind him, their eyes wide with dread and disgust at the man whose dreadful voice was now etched into their minds.
Mercy walked past them, following her manic friend, sparing a glance at Felix—the young leader now wearing an expression of defeat.
~Formay, police station~
The hero had gotten more calls from the sheriff. The blonde called Oxzy again and again to come to the station to talk about Randy, but whenever he came to do so, Milo started to stray from the subject. He talked to Oxzy about personal matters, getting closer and closer to the hero until Oxzy felt like ignoring the calls from then on.
He couldn't ignore him forever. Milo kept calling and asking to meet up, or to talk over coffee at a cafe or somewhere else. He wanted to do more with Oxzy, to get closer without being pushy or making his feelings obvious. Even so, Oxzy saw nothing of the affection growing in Milo's eyes. All the hero felt was annoyance at the sheriff's clingy, desperate actions.
It was already the second week after Oxzy had searched the grubs for the killer. He didn't dare go back there again, in case the villain could sniff him out for being in his "territory." So he decided to leave it to the station instead, meeting with Milo at least once every day and convincing the officer to search the grubs more and more until something turned up. Nothing seemed to come of it for weeks; all Oxzy got out of their visits was Milo drawing closer and closer.
Until today. Milo called him again to discuss what had been found in the grubs the day before. Oxzy assumed Milo had called him over just to talk nonsense again, but the moment the hero entered the station, it was obvious that something had happened—something had been discovered.
The men in uniform were rushing around, gathering papers, some making phone calls. Oxzy stayed near the door by the wall so he wouldn't be in the way, scanning the room for the sheriff's familiar blond hair.
The sheriff walked out of the back office, shouting orders to his men. They scattered to obey, snatching up scattered papers before hurrying to the back locker room.
Only the hero, Milo, Jamisen, and the new guy, Jayce, remained up front. Jayce was asking Jamisen what he needed to do. Jamisen turned to answer, unaware that the hero had arrived—or of Milo's rising blood pressure.
Milo quickly noticed the hero leaning against the wall and walked forward, trying to hide his excitement. "Oxzy, great, you're here! I have to show you what we discovered yesterday in the grubs," he said, motioning for the hero to follow him through the door.
Oxzy followed behind, hearing the door shut behind him as Milo walked past him to his seat. The sheriff sat across from Oxzy, shuffling files onto the worn-out desk. Oxzy looked down and scanned the files with indifferent eyes. At first, he hadn't believed Milo about finding something in the grubs, but now, seeing the commotion, he believed something had indeed happened.
He hoped they'd found the killer. Instead, the file showed a gruesome photo of a man Oxzy didn't recognize. The man's fate was obviously painful, judging by the police photos on file. His clothes were drenched in water, his skin wrinkled and aged as though it had rotted away. Worse still was his mouth, stretched unevenly open. Blood and mucus ran down his jaw, foam stained his pale lips, and his eyes were white, the rims of his lids red, as if he'd been suffocated.
Yet no marks marred his neck to suggest strangulation. So how had he died this way? Milo seemed to be wondering the same thing.
"My men still don't know how he died yet. The autopsy report hasn't come in, so we'll have to wait a few more days," he explained, pushing some papers aside to look at Oxzy.
The hero didn't notice. "Where was the body found?"
"The same place as Randy. The lake at the end of the grubs, away from the apartments," Milo explained, an uneasy smile on his face as he watched Oxzy flip through the papers, scanning them with sharp gray eyes. "What we assume is that he was killed by the gangs in the grubs to keep him quiet. He was probably given some kind of drug that killed him in a painful way—the sort gangs here use on their own men to silence them."
"Looks more like he was poisoned," Oxzy mumbled under his breath. The man had died quickly, and his mouth seemed to be the point of ingestion. To the hero, it looked far more like poison than a drug, as the sheriff assumed.
Milo nodded, agreeing with him. "It does look that way…"
Oxzy ignored the shy smile spreading over the sheriff's reddening face. "The answer will come after the autopsy," he said, dropping the files back onto the table—sparking a flicker of fear in Milo that he might leave.
The hero felt as though nothing was being done. There seemed little point in meeting with Milo anymore; he wasn't helping, only distracting him. The files said nothing about the killer or who he might be. It was assumed to be a gang in the grubs—an easy enough guess, but not an easy one to act on.
If the station couldn't stop these killings, the task would fall to Oxzy. The hero wanted to find the culprit himself, if only the villain weren't somehow involved. Oxzy was certain Pierce wasn't responsible for the murders—but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat to Oxzy's efforts to stop them.
The hero would have to return to the grubs and search for anything that might help the station. He suspected the station wasn't trying hard enough, that perhaps the sheriff was too distracted to properly perform his duty to the people.
Oxzy felt his chest tighten. The sheriff, talking as he drew closer, didn't seem to notice the shift in Oxzy's eyes. That strange feeling returned, and Oxzy understood exactly what it meant—the sheriff was distracted by *him*.
Milo stepped closer, his face flushed light red, his smile fixed entirely on Oxzy. His eyes stayed on him, not on the matter at hand.
The curly-haired male sighed, standing up abruptly and turning toward the door. Milo rose after him just as quickly and, without thinking, reached out to stop Oxzy, grabbing his wrist. "Hey...! We can talk about something else if you want—you don't have to leave yet!" he said, voice frantic.
"We need to stop this from continuing," Oxzy replied, turning his head toward Milo. The sheriff tightened his grip in response, drawing a wince from the hero.
Oxzy ignored it and pulled himself closer. "I know that! But we should wait until we know more before heading out—"
"It's already been a long time since Randy's body was discovered," Oxzy said quickly, trying to pry his wrist free. Milo only held tighter. "Sir, if you still want to meet, we need to talk about the cases—not only that, but we need to solve them."
The sheriff reacted as though he'd heard something absurd, eyebrows knitting together, face scrunching up. "We *are* solving them! It takes time, of course—that's why we should see more of each other—"
"Solve," Oxzy repeated, cutting him off and stepping forward to meet his eyes, "by going out and finding the one responsible."
The blond's grip loosened, and Oxzy managed to pull free, stepping back from the now-quiet sheriff. Milo seemed to absorb the words but refused to accept them. He shook his head, pressing a hand to his temple as if in pain. "W-we are…"
His voice came out quiet, but both of them, standing in that small space, knew nothing was truly being solved. Oxzy shook his head. "I'm distracting you, sir. With me coming here, nothing's getting done."
"What are you talking about?" Milo reached for his hand again, but Oxzy saw it coming and pulled away, backing up until he bumped into the door behind him. "Look—I like spending time with you. I want to solve this town's problems *with* you!"
His face flushed darker as he leaned closer to Oxzy. The hero felt himself recoil, eyes darting away in confusion as he watched the sheriff gather all the confidence he'd built from their meetings and press it to his lips.
Oxzy had been kissed before, a few times, but only by girls. This was the first time a man had kissed him. Milo moved closer, cornering Oxzy against the wall, his hands planted on either side of Oxzy's face. The sheriff's face burned beet red as he pushed his head down, deepening the kiss against Oxzy's twitching lips.
The hero stood shocked, pressed into the door, feeling his lips being sucked, his eyes wide open as he tried to ground himself. He knew what was happening, though he hadn't expected it, so his reaction came slowly. He didn't want to hurt the sheriff—he knew he was stronger than the man pressed against him—but he wanted it to end. He felt uneasy, overpowered by someone he'd thought was only trying to help.
Oxzy tried to push him away lightly, his hands on Milo's shoulders. The sheriff noticed the small push and looked at the hero, tightly pinned between the wall and him, as if he were being suffocated—eyes closed tightly, neck exposed from the force Milo pressed into him.
"Mhm...!" Oxzy growled through his throat, his lips still tightly closed, refusing the sheriff entry.
Milo felt an erection pulling at him, and having lost control to an ugly lust, he forced his tongue inside Oxzy's mouth, pushing in deep, prodding every corner of his warm mouth.
The hero's eyes shot open; disgust and fear ran through his entire body, jolting him with energy like a bullet. He roughly shoved the red, lust-filled sheriff off him, sending him tumbling onto the desk behind him.
The curly-haired man brought his hands to his mouth, covering his red lips as a wave of disgust rushed through his body. A feeling of betrayal followed as he realized, in that moment, what all those times Milo had called him over—all those times Milo had turned red and acted kind—had really meant.
He had only ever wanted to do that to him.
The hero didn't want to admit it, but hot tears swarmed his eyes, the feeling growing stronger as he watched the sheriff stand up. His gaze shot up to meet Oxzy's bloodshot eyes. Anger crossed his face. Instead of the embarrassment or apology the hero expected, Milo looked back at him with fury.
"What the hell!?" he yelled, stepping closer once he found his footing.
Oxzy stepped back and bumped into the door again. His jaw tightened as the memory of a hot, wet tongue invading his mouth in a crazed rush—while he was unprepared and, frankly, unwilling—clouded his vision. He could no longer think clearly.
His hand reached behind him blindly, grabbing the doorknob before he turned and rushed out of the office. He heard Milo calling after him but caught no words as he dashed away from the station. The hero crashed into a shorter figure but didn't stop, even as the man fell to the floor with a yelp. He kept running from the station, wanting nothing more than to throw up and sob alone.
The person he'd run into lay on the floor, staring after the hero with a shocked expression.
"Jayce! Oh my god, are you okay, man?" Jamisen appeared in front of him. Jayce, still sitting on the ground, grabbed the outstretched hand and let Jamisen pull him up. He turned toward where he'd seen the hero run off, but the man was already gone. "Why the hell did he run off like that—"
"Oxzy! Oxzy, wait!" Milo rushed out of his office, sweat dripping from his red face. He looked around for the man he was calling, but saw no one. He looked down, covering his eyes with one hand, and let out a sigh.
Jamisen and Jayce turned to their boss. Jayce understood what had happened without having witnessed it. Jamisen, on the other hand, shook his head. "What the hell happened? What'd he do?"
Milo looked at his men, ignoring Jamisen, before turning back into his office and slamming the door shut. Jamisen looked taken aback, his face settling into a clean, annoyed expression. He turned to Jayce. "Can you believe this guy is our sheriff?" he joked, earning a laugh from Jayce.
Jamisen kept ranting, knocking on the office door and calling for Milo to explain himself, but getting nothing in return. Jayce stood by and watched, already knowing what had happened just from the look on Milo's face.
It was, honestly, such a good opportunity. Jayce had arrived at just the right time, and it seemed he now had an opening to do what he'd come here to do. He stepped forward to the door Jamisen kept banging on and set his hand on it, stopping the angry man, who turned to look at him.
"How about you let me talk to him?" he asked with a small smile.
Jamisen looked at him as if he'd grown two heads, then shook his head in defeat. "Go ahead."
Jayce smiled, opening the unlocked door. "I'll be quick," he said, smiling once more before softly shutting the door, leaving a confused officer on the other side.
~Cleoi, Oxzy's apartment~
The hero entered his apartment, sweat rolling down his red face. His hair felt damp with sweat, his breathing heavy, his mind racing. The moment he stepped through the door, he sank to the wooden floor.
The tears in his eyes felt hotter than ever, but he held them in. Closing his eyes, he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head against his legs. He didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to think.
All he could think about was Milo.
Why would he do that? What was he thinking!?
The hero suddenly felt an urge to throw up. He hadn't eaten anything since morning, so nothing came up. He hunched over on the floor, trying to calm his quick breaths. He needed to think of something else—reliving the kiss, the invading feeling of a man's tongue in his mouth, disgusted him too much.
After a few minutes on the cold floor in the dark room, Oxzy finally lifted himself up. He held his chest, still wanting to cry and throw up, though he kept a straight face. He walked to the sink, took a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with water.
He chugged it down quickly, set the glass aside, and looked into the sink. He breathed deeply before sticking his finger down his throat; a violent rush of water came back up and out of his mouth. He looked down and threw up everything, clutching hard onto the sink counter as his insides emptied.
"Guh... Urgh!" He tried to throw up more, but nothing else came out. He hunched over, eyes closed, drool falling from his clenched jaw. "Gruhr..."
He didn't want to look up or even move. A soft meow sounded behind him—he knew his kitten stood there, worried. The small sound made him smile faintly, a feeling of relief pressing into his chest, comfort settling in at the thought that something he loved, loved him back.
That relief turned to anguish when he heard a distant crash from outside his closed window. His head snapped up, and he rushed to the window to find the source of the noise. He saw fire a bit farther back. Looking closer, he watched wild smoke rise from the top before the fire extinguished itself just as quickly. Oxzy stared out in shock and confusion. He'd never seen a fire go out on its own; he had to make sure nothing bad was happening.
Since a fire always meant Pierce.