~Hallway side, the streets~
The evil man let the fire die down, looking around for the source of the shouts of anger he had heard and fueled. The people who were yelling, calling him names, had run off when he set the fire. He rolled his eyes, putting the fire out since he didn't feel like calling the station over—he didn't really want to deal with anyone, as his mood was bad.
He would end up killing someone by accident if he saw anyone while in this state of mind. When he used to feel like this, Rosamee calmed him down. Now no one could stop him from causing destruction.
He started walking back to the grubs, kicking the ashes from the ground, bored and tired. He was honestly starting to hope he could get some action—that maybe something would happen today so he wouldn't feel so bored and angry—
A loud, wincing sound tore through the air behind him. Pierce turned to see a flying black flash coming right at him. He sideswiped it but still got knocked to the ground.
His hands dug into the dirt to stop himself from falling flat. In the end, he found himself looking up, hunched over, at a pair of glaring eyes. A smirk rose to his lips the moment he could form an expression; he stood up and dusted the dirt from his jeans, still smiling at the steaming man in front of him.
"I guess you weren't busy," he joked, his eyes gliding down to the hero's dirty, unkempt clothes. The man looked like he'd been attacked, like he'd run miles just to reach the villain. "You wanted to see me that badly?"
The mockery in his voice caused the hero's face to grow red. He bent down before taking a running start at the man. Pierce wasn't expecting it, and he landed on the ground again as Oxzy speared his chest with a blast of wind. The villain caught his breath in his throat, choking lightly at the rough throw.
"Ah—" he voiced, amused despite the pain.
But the hero still wasn't done. As the villain tried to gather himself, he suddenly felt a hard grip on his arm—a branch from the tree beside him coiled around him, strangling him as he found his feet.
Pierce felt the hard hold, meant to hurt him horribly, its thorns tearing into his flesh. He felt a rush of excitement; the hero was filled with energy and rage, directing it at the one person who could fight back with equal intensity. That would relieve his pent-up emotions more than anything else could.
His hand landed on the trunk—a flash of orange and red, and the tree became nothing but a burning pile of bark and ash. He jumped away as the leaves burst into flames, smoke circling the two of them in a roiling pit.
The villain surged with energy, darting up from the fire and bouncing off the ground into the air. Oxzy motioned for the circling wind to pick up around him; it spiked in speed, rushing toward the flying villain. The villain, in turn, dropped down when the wind swiped at his legs, nearly tumbling to the ground. He turned to the hero, earning a face full of flaming leaves.
The fire burned his face, hard wind driving the flames into his skin. The villain was somewhat immune to fire, unlike others, but he could still feel the heat seeping into his skin—it stung like needles digging into his flesh. Still, it was bearable, so he chose his next attack.
The hero's arms were raised toward the villain, forcing the hard wind to blow the flames at him. The villain seized the opportunity when he saw the hero's hands open and his lower half exposed. He struck the ground, sending the pavement rolling upward. It shook the earth, and the hero's hands dipped slightly as he lost his balance.
The villain ran forward, the wind now gone since Oxzy was distracted. His left hand shot out, and a burst of flames flew at the hero's exposed face. The hero felt the heat rushing toward him at lightning speed. His hands shot up to shield his face, and an ice wall formed around him, absorbing the fiery blow before bursting into smoke.
It evaporated instantly, collapsing into a puddle of boiling water. The hero moved away from it, catching sight of the villain rushing toward him from the corner of his eye. He lowered his hand toward the small remainder of water, and it quickly began to take shape at Oxzy's will, darting upward at his command. As the villain drew closer, Oxzy raised his hand and flung the water at him.
The villain spread his arms into a firewall, mirroring Oxzy's ice wall in the air. It stopped the boiling water from burning him, and as the fire died down, the villain met Oxzy's eyes, a tired smile lifting his face.
The hero himself felt exhausted, his hands aching from overuse, especially since he'd run from the station all the way to his apartment in Cleoi. He was worn out but had still come out to stop the villain—the same villain who had put out his own fire. The hero didn't know the full story of what happened before he arrived, and he didn't bother to find out.
He couldn't help but feel guilt in his chest. He was taking his anger out on the villain, who didn't even know what had happened before he got there. But Pierce was the only "person" in town who could take and handle Oxzy in a crazed state. Even if Pierce seemed to enjoy the attention, the intensity Oxzy was pouring into the fight, he knew it would soon be too much for him.
"Too much for him" was an odd way to put it, but the villain already looked exhausted from Oxzy's repeated assault. Yet he kept going—the attention he craved was what kept him from running away from a fight. It was meaningless, yes, but Oxzy had no other outlet for his hurt and rage except to unleash it on a man who thrived on receiving it.
Even so, they both soon grew tired from the endless back and forth. All their strength and energy went into the battle, so soon after Oxzy unleashed another spike of ice, Pierce rolled across the floor before settling on his stomach.
The hero could finish him off right now, but he, too, was exhausted. Besides, he couldn't kill anyone—his rage and pent-up emotions were clouding his mind. He slumped onto the ground a few feet in front of Pierce.
The villain looked up at the sound of a falling body and saw Oxzy on his knees, face red, sweat dripping from his black curls. Pierce didn't look any better, his face flushed, hair drenched with sweat.
They both felt, and looked, the same—sitting just a few feet apart, only pants and gasps passing between them.
Pierce chuckled lightly, faint mists of smoke drifting from his mouth. Oxzy looked up at him, eyebrows knitting together in clear annoyance. He managed to lift his arm from his slumped position to aim at Pierce.
The villain noticed immediately, his hands shooting up. "Wait—wait! Truce—let's have a truce, hold on…" His voice shook as he spoke, but his defenseless stance on the ground made the hero pause for a moment.
"You're very annoying," Oxzy responded, his expression stern compared to Pierce's snarky look. "How could I not?"
"A truce. Come on… we're both exhausted," Pierce explained, panting.
Oxzy slowly lowered his hand, his expression still hostile. Gradually, he sank to the ground, legs folding beneath him, panting as well. Pierce let his hands fall to his chest, which rose and fell rapidly with his quick, shallow breaths.
"So…" His voice broke through the air. "What got you so angry?"
Oxzy looked back at him, noticing that his voice sounded quieter now, free of malice or his usual mocking tone. Instead, it carried a hint of genuine interest. But Oxzy stayed silent, letting his head drop as he drew in breath after breath. A shuffling sound made his head snap up, though it was only Pierce sitting up in the same position as him, long legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes meeting Oxzy's.
"Come on… not like I could tell anyone. Not like anyone would care."
Oxzy shook his head weakly. Still silent, the villain began to feel a little sad that the hero couldn't even converse with him. He was about to speak again, but Oxzy's voice stopped him. "You would just mock me. That's worse than anyone here who wouldn't even listen to you."
Pierce was surprised at first that Oxzy had decided to explain, to actually talk to him. Even though it wasn't an answer to his question, he still felt pleased to get a response. "I would mock you for a day. Then forget about it the next."
"Not happening, Pierce."
His response was a giggle. Pierce tried to cover his mouth as he saw the hero glare at him. "Fine. I won't mock you if you tell me."
"Terrible liar," was all Oxzy said.
Pierce couldn't help but chuckle more at his short, amusing responses. "I actually get told that a lot."
Oxzy mumbled something under his breath. Pierce tilted his head, studying the hero's distracted eyes, growing even more curious, eager to pry into the hero's clouded mind. He shifted closer, stirring up dirt beneath him with the small movement.
The hero noticed, sitting up stiffer, his hand rising.
"Hey! I said truce—put that arm down!"
Oxzy stared at him in confusion for a few seconds before lowering his hand. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from Pierce. "Terrible liar."
The words came out mumbled, but Pierce heard them clearly now that he sat closer to the slumped man.
"Alright. How about this—if I tell you what happened to me, you tell me what happened to you?" His voice sounded like a child talking about candy—odd, yet not forced at all.
Oxzy turned his head, eyes now open, waiting for Pierce to continue.
"I caught some druggies trying to leave the grubs, talking about all the stuff they were going to do!" He leaned back lazily as he rambled on. "I spoke to them, and it turned out they were high or drunk—I don't know—but they talked back to me."
"So you burned them?" Oxzy couldn't stop the words from slipping out.
The villain looked offended, clutching his chest as if it hurt. "Do you really think of me as a ruthless killer?" He faked a pout. "Rude."
Oxzy rolled his eyes, knowing the villain was getting his energy back just to be annoying. "No, I didn't kill them. I scared them until they pissed themselves and ran back into the Grubs." Pierce started to explain, Oxzy subconsciously listening. "I put the fire out since I was already tired and knew the stupid blonde officer would come and piss me off more."
Oxzy slightly froze when Pierce mentioned the sheriff. His mouth tightened, and he lowered his head to mask his emotionless features. The villain noticed the change, close enough to the hero to see all his expressions.
The villain hummed, leaning on his hand while peering at Oxzy. "So he did something?" His words came from observing the hero's face—it stiffened, lips curling, eyes sagging. Something had happened, and Pierce wanted to know it all.
Oxzy turned his face away from Pierce. The villain leaned back, a smirk growing on his lips. "I knew he would have done something to you by now. Just by looking at him, it was clear he was holding back."
His words seemed to stir the hero. Oxzy turned slightly before forcing himself to inch away. Pierce kept talking, acting as if he hadn't noticed Oxzy's movements. "What'd he do? Attack you? Kiss you, or maybe—" His words stopped as the hero turned further away.
Suddenly, the villain's voice was much closer. "Maybe he fucked you..."
Oxzy swung his head back, meeting Pierce's face only an inch from his own.
Being so close to him, Oxzy fell back on his hands to try to back away. The villain stalked forward, his hand landing between the hero's stretched thighs, his face drawing closer. "Hm? Did he?"
"What the fuck—" Oxzy managed to growl out, feeling paralyzed as the villain came closer. The man's next move was a strong hand holding the hero's chin in place.
Oxzy flinched at the touch, swiping his hand up to grab the villain's wrist as it held his face. The hero growled at him, but Pierce only smiled back, forcing the hero to look up at him, his head stretched back and neck exposed. The villain licked his lips.
"Son of a bi—" Oxzy stopped speaking, wincing at the forceful pull.
"He didn't. I know our hero is saving his virginity for something special." The villain let out a menacing laugh. His eyes darkened, glaring deep into the hero's face, his thoughts plain in the darkening sky.
Oxzy wanted to kill him. Energy rolled up his arm and into the hand gripping Pierce. Cold ice grew on his hand, while the villain's arm grew hot. A flame rose on the very arm Oxzy was trying to freeze. It became a back-and-forth between the two, Oxzy trying to freeze him and Pierce heating his hand so it wouldn't freeze.
Pierce wanted to kill the hero too—not just kill him, but keep him, tuck him away like something precious. To fight him so hard that they destroyed each other, maybe even share a bed together before their deaths.
The thought nearly drove the villain mad. The hero was in his clutches, just an inch away, their bodies practically touching.
Why wasn't he doing it?
"Errg..." Oxzy groaned, forcing energy into his hand to push the villain off, while Pierce matched the force with heat. "Fu—gah!"
The heat traveled to the hand holding Oxzy. Steam rose from his skin as he began to melt the pretty hero in his grip. The villain was lost in thought, staring at the hero wincing beneath the pain.
"But—" Pierce began, his energy slowly fading from his fingers. Smoke curled between their conjoined hands as Oxzy slowly gained the upper hand, Pierce's thoughts shifting. "I want to keep you pretty."
The evil smile crossing Pierce's face chilled Oxzy. His eyes shot open as he struggled harder to pry the death-like hand from his face.
Pierce slowly pulled away, earning a grunt and a pant in response. All he could think about was the time he melted his older siblings' faces off—how they had tormented and mocked him until he finally snapped.
The fire had been small at first, born from his little body, but it soon grew wild—untamed to his child's mind as it consumed them without so much as a blink. It struck their faces first; their tan skin melted, merging together into thick clumps that soon thinned into liquid, sliding off their bones.
The screams of pain—oh, that was the first time little Pierce realized he loved the sound.
The sound of pain, of fear. He wanted more of it. As he grew, he found new ways to get what he wanted, most of it coming from Oxzy.
The sounds he made, the look in his eyes that hadn't melted, that held no fear.
Pierce didn't know if he wanted fear staring back at him or the same stone-cold look Oxzy always wore. Maybe he wanted both.
The villain stood in front of Oxzy when he saw a flash of green. The hero ran at him, but the villain was soon swallowed in darkness. The light vanished around him, his form disappearing from view. Oxzy turned frantically, searching for the man. He heard footsteps, a rush of wind swirling around him.
He held his stance, ready for an attack. A few seconds passed before the sounds faded. Everything stilled as he realized Pierce was gone from the area.
Oxzy slumped, his hand finding his sore, burned chin. He rubbed the irritated red skin, then traced his fingers to his lips, which also ached.
"Fucking gross," he mumbled, shaking his head.
~Formay, police station~
"Milo, sir. Don't worry about him—he already ran away." Jayce sat beside the silent sheriff. The blonde man hadn't said a word since Oxzy left. His mind spun in a state of panic; he didn't know what to think after what he'd done. The hero's reaction had caught him completely off guard.
*How did I not see that coming? I've been giving hints this whole time!* the sheriff thought.
The younger officer seemed to read Milo's mind. A small smile formed on his lips. "We all saw how you felt. How obvious the relationship was." His voice dropped, and Milo turned toward him, startled. "It was wrong of him to do that. He was in the wrong, sir."
His words felt right to the officer. Some part of him still resisted believing it, a tight pull in his chest—but Milo let his anger take over instead. He wasn't wrong for how he felt. If Oxzy hadn't wanted it, he shouldn't have gone along with him.
Why else would he come over every time Milo called?
The sheriff sighed. "You're right..." he said suddenly.
Jayce flinched slightly, then turned to him with a wider smile. "He's gone now. The hero can be selfish, always worrying about himself and his image."
Milo clenched his knuckles together, jaw tightening at the thought.
Jayce shook his head and stood from the stool, watching Milo cycle through a dozen emotions, anger dominating his expression. He was hating Oxzy more by the second.
The young officer glanced around, his eyes landing on a cabinet full of sorted files. Instead of reaching for it, he turned back to Milo. "Jamisen's going to be on your case." Milo looked up. "Now that Oxzy isn't here, we should be able to finish it without his help."
The words eased the sheriff's mind. He didn't need the hero's help with his work—he never had. All he'd wanted was for Oxzy to be there, to kiss him and pull him close. But Oxzy was too selfish, and he'd played him for a fool.
The sheriff turned back to his desk, eyes on the case files. Without facing Jayce, he said, "Right. Get the men ready and tell Jamisen to come in. We'll hold a meeting and get this sorted as quickly as possible."
~The Grubs, Pierce's home~
The villain collapsed onto his sofa, a smile plastered on his face the entire way home. He couldn't help but feel giddy—happiness wasn't entirely foreign to him. He wasn't emotionless; a dark kind of joy was still a feeling he knew well.
He was pleased with the hero's reaction, pleased that he could torment the man a little more. He'd gotten the attention he wanted, and it only left him craving more.
Now that he sat alone in his dark, empty home, the villain felt the happiness fade—like a flame sparking heat in his cold heart, something he'd grown addicted to the moment he feared losing it again. Now it was gone once more. The source of that feeling, back when he was younger, had been Rosamee. She was his anchor; he still visited her photographs to calm himself.
Now he realized that the more distance grew between him and her lingering spirit, the more he relied on Oxzy. It was obvious, even with him and Mercy, that he needed the man there to stop him—to fight, yell, hurt, and shout at him.
It didn't matter if the villain got hurt or beaten in the process, as long as it was Oxzy who did it. He was anchored to this place because of him.
Now he lay alone in his home. The wind howled and battered his window as a storm approached, making his solitude all the more apparent. Mercy wasn't here—she was probably at the warehouse, getting high with his little brother.
So Pierce would spend the rest of the night alone, cooling off, drinking his sorrows away with nothing left to look forward to. He didn't feel like chasing away the loneliness tonight; the fight with Oxzy had drained him. He'd gotten enough attention and energy just from being near him—enough to last the day.
His limbs sank as he went to the fridge to grab a beer. He popped it open before slumping down right in front of the fridge. He sat on the stone floor, taking swig after swig of the toxic liquid.
It didn't do much for him. His immune system was too strong; it would take at least five bottles to get him even a little high.
He could take in marijuana, wine, vodka, any type of drug to feel something strong. After years of drinking beer every day, the villain had started to get used to it. He drank it like water, thinking of nothing.
It didn't help.
Well, it never did. Only one person could help the villain with this.
—And the man himself didn't even realize how important she was.
~Cleoi, Oxzy's apartment~
Oxzy didn't realize how much the fight had drained him until he got home. He had to force his body to move as quickly as possible. Having been so close to the grubs and heading straight home, Oxzy felt eyes follow him. He knew someone must have seen it all and tried to figure out where he lived. The hero caught on, slinking quietly into the shadows before the people passed.
He made it home after two hours, falling onto the bed. He didn't bother to eat, even though he needed it to gain energy for tomorrow. He sought warmth and comfort instead, finding it under his arm as he lay still.
The cat, muffled under the arm of her owner, let out soft purrs. She pulled her head up so it rested next to Oxzy's. His black curls dangled atop her head, and she didn't seem to mind.
Cirilla May shifted closer, licking the hero's forehead as loud purrs rumbled from her tiny body. Her warmth was intoxicating. The hero breathed it in, soaking in all the love the creature gave him.
He pulled her closer to his chest, letting her feel the slowing beat of his heart. Her purring grew louder as she nestled into his warming body.
All Oxzy had to do was rest with her in his arms. He was missing things, certainly—the love of his mother was conspicuously absent in the empty apartment. It slowly became normal the more he turned to his cat for comfort.
It wasn't as much as Genna had given him. It never would be, but it was something. Oxzy needed something to keep his sanity intact. The town was slowly breaking him apart, and it wasn't just Pierce who tore at his wounded soul.
Pierce.
The villain and he talked—talked like they knew each other. They did, in some way; they had fought each other for years. As soon as they realized how alike they were, they could only think about each other. Most of the talk and feeling was hatred. But deep down, there was a need.
The hero didn't like how he felt he "needed" the evil man. Pierce and he shared nothing but hate for each other. Even if the villain acted as though he liked him, Oxzy knew he only enjoyed messing with his head. He was evil, after all.
The evil man who had shown him a smile. His breathing, his real laugh.
It felt human…
Oxzy shut his eyes tightly, his breathing growing shallow at the thought of the man. The evil man who had revealed a different side of himself—Oxzy had only seen him act that way back in high school, when he was with his people. Mostly with the girl he knew as Rosamee.
The small girl who was always with him during school. Oxzy had never bothered to care about his personal life; he knew only that she had been his partner, not how deep it went. He only knew that Pierce had become more withdrawn after she passed.
She died on the day of the school fire.
The hero pulled his body tighter at the thought. He fought off the memories of that day. He wasn't going to be dragged into them. Not right now.
The cat in his tight embrace let out a soft whine. Sensing her master's discomfort, she moved closer.
Oxzy smiled softly, forgetting about it as he focused on Cirilla.
"Thank you…" He knew the cat couldn't understand him. He just needed to thank someone for this feeling.
For comfort.
For the soft moment of warmth.