~Cleoi, Oxzy's apartment~
Oxzy made it back to his apartment more slowly than he wanted. He felt eyes watching his every move, and it chilled him to the bone thinking that strangers meaning him harm would follow him for hours. He always felt this shitty afterward, and he couldn't do anything but hide from it.
Soon Oxzy walked through the door of his home, making it to his room and to the usual mess of his bed. Instead of flopping down like he usually would, Oxzy went to his drawer, opened it, and took out a few bandages, alcohol, and a pair of scissors. The hero leaned back against the headboard that held his mattress, sighing loudly at what he was about to do.
His hand shook violently as he began to move it towards his injured shoulder. Squeezing the scissors, he pressed the cold metal into his body. The hero hissed out in a silent scream. He forced his eyes to stay open, fighting off hot tears that clouded his vision.
"Ergah!"
Slowly, the hero pulled out the bullet lodged inside his bone.
Oxzy let out an agonizing sigh, sucking in a breath as he felt hot blood pour from the gaping wound. It stung, as if he were being burnt over and over with a hot iron. It seared deep inside, like his bones were pressed together between flames.
"Puah... Gahh..!" Oxzy tightened the bandage wrapped around his shoulder, pulling until he could feel his own heartbeat pulse against it. His heart raced, the sensation spiking deep in his muscles. His hand fell, dropping in exhaustion. "Ha... Hah..."
Silence returned, broken only by a moan of pain in his small room. The pain spiked again and again within him; his muscles tightened, and blood seeped into the bandage, soaking it within seconds.
His head hit the headboard, his eyes staring up into the black space above. His energy was gone. He wanted to get up and sit in his bed, to cuddle with Cirilla May or maybe Kamari, but he couldn't even feel his body.
Every part of him felt as though it had been run over by a thousand trucks. His chest rose and fell in sync with his ragged breaths. It hurt more than it should have—yes, he'd been shot, hit, and deafened by a nearby explosion—but he knew he would survive.
A normal human would have collapsed in agonizing pain, but Oxzy took it all in. Ignoring it or not, he knew it wouldn't kill him. No panic at all—he had to keep his body and mind calm to heal.
He already felt the shattered bone begin to move. It was a sickening feeling, cracking back into place with slow, grinding motions, shifting through muscle into uncomfortable positions. It hurt like hell.
Oxzy covered himself, trying to block out the pain. He shut his eyes tightly as tears fell in a frenzy.
It will be gone soon... It will be gone soon... It will be gone soon... The hero repeated the words in his head, hoping they would bring him comfort.
Soon, the pain did begin to fade. His thoughts, once a jumbled mess, slowly reconnected as his breathing steadied. When he came back to himself, Oxzy felt warmth spreading across his lap. Slowly, he looked down to find its source.
His heart leapt when he saw the cat curled there. He hadn't even felt her approach or settle into place. She lay in a tight ball, soft purrs rumbling from her small body and vibrating through his own.
Her warmth spread from her to him, melting his ice-cold body into relaxed stillness. He stroked Cirilla's fur, gliding his hand gently along her back, earning an encouraging purr in response.
The cat wasn't alone in joining her master—soon the small rodent came too, nestling between his crossed legs. Seeing the cat had claimed his lap, she settled by his foot instead, lying pressed close to him before closing her eyes as well. The two creatures offered their warmth and comfort, flooding him with a quiet euphoria that spread through his body.
No longer tense, no longer in pain, Oxzy smiled brightly on the cold floor.
~The Grubs, Pierce's home~
The sky was deep and dark, with no stars in sight. It stretched above the man who paced in the cold, open room. This night felt colder than normal—like he was drenched in icy water that soaked into his skin no matter how much fire he summoned within his body. The cold seemed to evaporate his flames instead; Pierce felt colder than usual.
He lay in his bed alone in the middle of the night. Mercy had called to say she would be coming over, but that was three hours ago, and she still wasn't here. Pierce gave up waiting and went to bed, though even lying down, he couldn't sleep. He stared up at the dark night sky for hours, his mind wandering.
God, he was lonely. God probably didn't bother to listen.
He heard the sound of his door being pushed open, and a strong smell of puke and weed reached his senses. The scent matched Mercy perfectly; she walked—or rather stumbled—into the home, tripping over her own feet and landing against the fridge. She rummaged around until her hand found the door, swinging it open and scanning everything inside.
"Motherfucker..!" she cursed, ignoring the man standing behind her.
She slammed the door shut, then shuffled forward and smacked her bare face against it. Pierce gave her a snicker, smelling vomit, alcohol, and weed radiating from her. It was intoxicating; the woman looked ready to pass out. Pierce was surprised she'd made it this far, given the state she was in.
Mercy noticed her friend looking down at her and gave a smile with crooked teeth. "Are you a fucking vampire?" she wheezed, clutching her pounding head. "You have drinks but no fucking food!"
"How much did you smoke?" Pierce asked.
Mercy responded with a giggle. "Felix gave me so much I couldn't even fit it in my mouth!"
"You ate weed?"
"I washed it down with his beer, or some shit. Wine? No, too expensive—it tasted like a daddy in my mouth." Mercy giggled at her own words.
Pierce rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched his friend's feet slip out from under her. She landed on the floor and tried pulling the fridge door open again, forcing it wider to peek inside.
"Did it taste like rich cum?" Pierce asked, kneeling down to her level.
Mercy shook her head. "No, it tasted way better—ha!"
Pierce laughed out loud, watching his friend try to pry the door wider. Her eyes landed on a beer inside the fridge. She reached for it, fumbling with the cap but failing to get it off, her hands shaking with the effort.
Pierce huffed in amusement and took the bottle from her. She looked at him with a dazed expression as he set it on the counter, out of reach of her limp legs.
"Hey! Man, don't be a cunt!"
"I may hate you," Pierce replied, lifting her by the torso and onto her feet. She sagged in his hands, her legs barely functioning as she reached weakly toward the beer. He turned toward the stairs leading to his room, his tone gentler than usual.
"But you'll die if you drink any more."
"Ughhh..." Mercy groaned in annoyance and pain, digging her nails into the worn tank top hanging from his shoulders. "Fuck... I'd rather die..."
"Yeah, but not yet." Pierce replied with a smile, reaching the top floor and making his way to the only room there. He passed the bathroom and set her on his bed, where she tossed around as vomit rose from her stomach.
Mercy held it in, the cold biting at her body from the bed beneath her. "Fucking... cold..!"
Pierce turned, glancing up at the open roof he loved so much, then back to Mercy, who lay in an uncomfortable heap on his large bed. He stepped forward and draped a cotton blanket over her, letting it settle on her small frame as he watched her expression slowly relax.
She curled into herself, burying her face in the blanket. The cold air no longer seemed to bother her, soothed by the comfort Pierce had given her sick, limp body.
Even comforted, Mercy still mumbled words of pain. "So... h-ungry... sick, sick..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know you're hungry, you horse." The villain replied, pulling on a ripped jacket from the floor. He watched her thrash lightly beneath the cotton comforter before exiting the room and heading down the stairs.
He closed the door and walked the streets, searching for any shop, though he knew there were none in the grubs. The closest options were in Highway Side, down by the markets—but at this hour, they were likely closed.
That never stopped Pierce, though.
He slipped into the shadows to his left, fading in and out of existence until he reached a clear section of the city.
~Highway Side, markets~
Returning to reality, Pierce scanned the area for something Mercy could eat in her condition—nothing hot, sweet, or heavy. Mercy loved strongly flavored foods; anything bland, she'd spit right back out.
He searched until his eyes landed on a shop tucked beneath the apartments that hung in the sky. One sold every flavor of instant ramen imaginable, alongside hotpots and soups of all kinds.
Pierce smiled at the sight, spotting one flavor he knew was exactly Mercy's taste. He placed his hand on the glass door, phased through it, and appeared inside the shop.
It was quick but draining. He grabbed what he needed, his energy already flagging from fading in and out of reality so many times. Still, he could recover the rest of the night back home.
~Highway Side, the streets~
The villain decided to walk the rest of the way home through the grubs. As he reached the point where Highway Side ended and the grubs began, he spotted a familiar tree.
His feet stopped in their tracks. Looking up at the tall tree, Pierce felt his breath catch in his throat.
The last time he'd stood here, he'd been shot, forced to watch the tree he admired splinter apart without a second thought. Now, a tall, beautiful, living tree stood in its place—no holes, no burnt leaves, only bright green foliage.
It was entirely new, regrown into something bigger and brighter.
When had Oxzy found the time? They'd fought only a few hours ago. The hero had been shot at, his ears busted from the fight—he'd taken the worst of it, even though it was meant for Pierce. Yet somehow, the mess was cleared, the tree restored, every branch and leaf lost to destruction regrown. No trace of the gunfight, no scorch marks on the ground.
Pierce found himself smiling so hard his lips began to ache. He couldn't help it.
The hero never failed to amaze him, even with something like this—something most people would call ordinary, unremarkable. Yet it touched his cold heart all the same.
"Ox." He couldn't stop himself from saying the name now filling his thoughts.
It wasn't hatred, nor amusement, nor the usual urge to kill the man. Something else lingered there, something Pierce recognized all too well. His heart leapt with joy, racing circles through his chest.
Finally catching up with himself, Pierce turned away from the tree's beauty and continued toward the grubs, the instant ramen meant for his sick friend still in hand. That should have been his only thought, but instead, his mind lingered elsewhere.
All on that damn hero.
~Cleoi, Oxzy's apartment~
Oxzy awoke to a bright light and a heavy weight crushing his entire body. It felt as though some invisible force pressed him into the ground. He tried to sit up, pain spiking through his shoulders like fire, and toppled back over, hunching against the floor.
He looked around, the light pouring in from his open curtains, and realized he was sitting in the small living room by the window. Had he fallen asleep on the floor again? It had been a while since that last happened.
He couldn't remember what happened yesterday, or even last night. He tried his best to get up, feeling like a lump of dead weight, his body sore all over and utterly devoid of energy.
What did I do yesterday? Oxzy scolded himself.
After a few minutes spent encouraging himself to finally stand, Oxzy did so with wobbling feet. Landing his hands on the windowsill, he gulped in air, then felt his way around the apartment until he reached the sink where the fridge stood.
Opening it, he scanned the food for something to eat. He was drained from yesterday, barely able to walk with his weak energy; eating could not only help heal him, it would give him the energy he needed to defend himself.
Nothing was in the fridge. He looked up at the cabinets and grabbed a can of soup to make. It was barely heated before Oxzy scarfed it down. It stung the insides of his mouth, forced down despite its bland taste.
The hero ignored the sting, eating all of the food before setting the can down. After eating, Oxzy felt a bit energized and decided to take a shower. He knew he had to anyway—his wounds and body were dirty from yesterday. Dirt covered his face, and stained blood soaked his shoulder bandage. Oxzy stared at it, knowing he had to clean the bandage and change everything he was wearing.
He had slept on the wooden floor, and his body was stiff; his clothing had tears, rips, and dirt all over it, so a shower was sorely needed.
The shower was quick, like his remaining bits of energy. He felt like a slab of meat afterward.
He fell onto his bed with his hair still dripping wet. His shoulder stung, and blood dripped onto his sheets. Oxzy saw the blood and, letting out a groan, forced himself back up.
Standing by the dresser once again, Oxzy pulled out extra clothes to patch up the wound. Ripping them apart with his teeth, the hero tightly bound the wound with the white bandage. He watched as the red liquid quickly soaked through from the other side, staining the white cloth almost immediately.
It didn't bother him; he had to change it anyway, and he had plenty of extra clothes to use for it. All he needed for the healing to quicken was rest, so he fell onto his now blood-stained bed. It was just the blankets, but Oxzy was far too tired to change them right now. Closing his eyes, he breathed with ease for once.
~The Grubs, Pierce's home~
Pierce watched his friend stir in his bed. Letting out moans of distress, she kicked the blanket off herself to feel the cold air. It wasn't that cold now that it was morning; instead, she was met with the sun hitting her eyes.
"Motherfucker..." she groaned, cursing at the sun. She turned over, stuffing her face into Pierce's pillows. After a few seconds, she raised her head again. "Did I hook up? This isn't my bed..."
"It's mine, and no, you didn't get fucked," Pierce responded curtly, making his friend jump up from the cozy sheets.
She turned to him, eyeing his clothes—he was dressed like he was going out. Suddenly, everything came back to her, and she let out a string of curses. Hitting her head on the mattress, she felt almost ready to retire.
"Oh, calm your tits," Pierce said, rolling his eyes and sitting on the end of the bed with his arms crossed. "You came over drunk and high, smelling like vomit."
"That's why I feel like I ate China..."
"No, that's the ramen you had last night."
"Ugh!" Mercy recoiled. Pierce laughed at her as he stood up and headed to the door. "Yo, where are you even going?"
Her question stopped the villain. He turned to her, thinking quietly. "I have a meeting today."
Mercy looked like she'd lost brain cells hearing him speak. She looked down, mumbling to herself. "...an idiot..."
"An idiot who made sure you didn't die," Pierce responded, opening his door before leaving.
"Hey, fucker, wait!" Mercy jumped from the bed, running after him. She found him in the hall by the stairs. Pierce turned to her. "Let me join you, I need some snacks."
Pierce looked her up and down, then rolled his eyes and turned back around. "Sure, but you're gonna have to catch up."
Mercy smirked, a snarky laugh escaping her lips. "Go ahead, I'll meet you down at Highway." She turned back to the room, tumbling over her own feet back toward the door. With the door closed, Pierce counted to five before turning to the front door.
~Highway side, markets~
The two friends began to make their way back to the grubs, passing streets that seemed empty in their presence—deadly silent. Mercy disliked the silence Pierce was unintentionally causing, so she began to pull out the snacks she had "bought."
Taking a small bag of chocolate pretzels from her handbag, Mercy let out a soft sigh. "Damn, who would have thought that salty and sweet worked so damn well?" She opened the bag and immediately began devouring the contents.
Pierce watched his friend finish everything inside the bag within seconds. She let out moans of approval. "An idiot like you would."
The sly response earned a growl. Mercy finished the bag within seconds, tossing the empty wrapper onto the ground without a care. She stretched, looking over to Pierce. He had been quiet the whole time they'd gathered food, not making much of his usual comebacks, not flashing his smile to scare off the people who looked their way.
Something was on his mind.
"What's up your ass?" Mercy finally asked.
Pierce turned to her with a confused expression, then turned back around. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, please," Mercy said, dropping her hands with an eye roll. "You've been quiet all day. This is unlike you, so something is on your mind."
"And you must know?" Pierce replied in a cocky tone.
"Uh, yeah, your business is my business."
"Nothing about your business is of interest or importance to me," Pierce replied, eyes closed.
Mercy ignored the rude remark; it didn't offend her. A few more seconds of silence passed until the two reached the edge of Highway side, where it opened into the grubs. Mercy walked in front of Pierce, forcing him to stop and look at her.
"Just tell me. We never hide things from each other."
"I'm not hiding anything," Pierce said with a groan, trying to maneuver around her. She turned to block him completely, and even though she knew he could push her aside, he didn't.
He stared blankly at her. Mercy tilted her head, trying to urge him on.
Pierce held his head in annoyance, turning his eyes to the left, where he saw a familiar sight. He hadn't even noticed they were next to where he and Oxzy had fought the other day. The tree he'd stopped to look at last night stood tall, blocking the sun from above and shading the two friends beneath it.
"Pierce," Mercy said, catching his attention. He turned to her, unable to help a small smile. "Pierce, come on—"
"I just feel happy," the villain responded.
Mercy gaped at him, eyes wide with confusion. She looked like a fish out of water, moving her mouth with no words coming out. What was she supposed to say? Pierce was never happy; this made no sense.
Pierce could hear the questions Mercy couldn't voice. He turned back to the tree before responding. "I can feel happy sometimes, right?"
When Mercy caught up with herself, she shook her head. "You're being so weird. I mean, you're so quiet—how is that...?"
"I guess my thoughts are keeping me quiet."
"Happy thoughts?" Mercy asked, studying his expression. For what seemed like the first time in a long while, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Who?"
Pierce finally looked back at her, a smirk on his face. "Who else?"
Silence fell. Mercy took a few seconds to process it all. *You've got to be kidding me*, she thought, realizing who he meant. "How—! How can he make you happy? I mean, you guys—"
"I don't know either," Pierce replied, walking around his distracted friend toward the opening of the grubs. Mercy hurried to catch up, wanting to ask more, to understand this new behavior.
Pierce ignored her questions, only repeating, "I don't know."
~The Grubs, the streets~
The police traveled up and down the roads of the grubs. No one was in sight; all the druggies had hidden as soon as the police entered with their rattling, loud vehicles. Milo had called in half the station to conduct a full search of the place for any suspicious activity. They were looking for a killer, so precautions had been made.
Unknown to them, and to the people of the grubs, the hero silently followed their search. Oxzy knew the villain might end up attacking the police in anger, seeking to "avenge himself" after the shootout.
Oxzy trailed behind the cars, moving along the rooftops. He used the dark sky and the shadows that passed over him for cover, jumping from tall buildings to short ones, careful not to use the wind to aid his travel. Last time he had done so, Pierce had found him. The villain was exactly who Oxzy wanted to keep from the police at the moment, not lead toward them.
The police made no effort to stay inconspicuous, knocking on closed, dirty doors with demands. They walked down deserted streets, calling in over their radios to what Oxzy recognized as Milo's voice. Milo wasn't with them in person; instead, Jamisen, the second-in-command, led the group. He tried to keep his men quiet, pointing out the next places to search.
The hero watched as they moved from one street to another, sticking together. Nothing seemed to be happening. They didn't find what—or whom—they were looking for.
Oxzy considered leading them to the warehouse he'd suspected during his last visit to the grubs, but the villain might be there. He pushed the idea aside, keeping track of both the police and the grubs' residents, who hid away in the dark. They looked ready to defend themselves, prepared to attack if the officers came too close. But when the police did approach, they shrank back, heads down, claiming they knew nothing.
It made Oxzy roll his eyes at both parties. They both seemed fairly useless.
For a few hours, the same routine repeated itself. The police passed the edge of the lake, walking right by the warehouse without noticing it. Oxzy tensed slightly, wanting to jump down and do something to help. The police were remarkably blind to what stood right in front of them. Instead, he retreated into the shadows with a silent gulp.
Oxzy heard Jamisen call Milo from the car; a few words were exchanged, though nothing important reached Oxzy's ears. He turned his attention back to the men outside the vehicles. Some looked eager to return home, to leave the dreaded grubs behind. Oxzy felt the same.
When Jamisen finished the call, he ordered his men back into formation. They obeyed, staying close together as they entered Highway side and made their way back to the station, blocks away. Oxzy moved along the rooftops, then jumped down silently to follow.
A sudden shift in the air stopped him. His feet halted at the smell of burnt flesh. Flesh? No—something different, though similar. It smelled of burnt cotton, a strange kind of "cotton."
Oxzy knew it wasn't wise to investigate. The smell of something burning had to mean Pierce; the villain was always burning something. But the scent confused him. It smelled almost normal, like food, nothing more. Still, curiosity pulled him forward.
He moved silently along the rooftops until he reached the middle of town. Looking down at the streets, he spotted a different roof directly ahead. This one had a hole in it, as though blasted open by an explosion.
Again, very quietly, Oxzy landed softly on the edge of the roof. Climbing with practiced ease, he peered into the room below.
His breath caught, a tight sound escaping his lips.
He didn't even bother covering his mouth—the villain was already looking up at him. Pierce sat on the edge of his bed, sorting through what looked like clothing: all black, burnt, with ashes falling as the garments were tossed aside. That must have been the smell.
Pierce gave him a smirk. "Oh no, my secret home has been found out!" He raised his hands in mock surrender.
Oxzy tried to suppress the shock of discovering Pierce's home. The villain didn't seem to care that the hero now knew where he lived. Well, what could the hero do about it anyway?
The villain set the burnt clothes down, leaning back on his hands while looking up at Oxzy. The hero edged closer; there was no point in hiding now that he'd been caught.
Pierce patted the spot beside him, smiling up at Oxzy. "Come sit with me. I'm bored."
Oxzy scoffed, remaining standing.
Pierce snickered, leaning forward onto his elbows, eyes still fixed on the hero above him. "You had time to regrow the tree? I mean, how did you manage that with a bullet in your shoulder?"
"I'm not incapable," Oxzy responded immediately. Pierce seemed oddly shocked that he'd managed it—but looking closer, it seemed the villain harbored a strange obsession with the tree. When he'd first seen it, he'd stared as if it were the only thing in the world. He'd stopped fighting the hero the moment he saw it torn to shreds, his expression flashing anger, then unease.
Now he was bringing it up again, far from the tree itself.
It was wildly out of character. But then, the villain was nothing if not unpredictable.
"I mean, I know that," Pierce said. "But it seems like other people don't. Or they refuse to see or acknowledge it."
Oxzy huffed.
"You know what I mean? Well, duh, you do—it's you they don't want to fully understand." He stood, pacing around his room, making the hero above go stiff. "Because if they did, they'd start seeing you as human. And they'd feel uncomfortable treating a human the way they treat you."
Oxzy caught on quickly. "Don't start."
"It's true, huh? You can't even deny it, yet you keep protecting these people."
Oxzy shook his head, turning to leave the man behind, still rambling below.
"But you're only doing it for your mother."
The words stopped Oxzy in his tracks. His face turned white, his body weakened. He no longer looked down at the villain, but he could feel those deep, knowing eyes on him—eyes that saw everything. He knew about Genna, Oxzy's mother. Why mention her now, of all times?
He was manipulating the hero—Oxzy knew that. But he couldn't shake the growing unease. The villain fell silent after his words, and the hero couldn't see his reaction without looking at him.
Would he continue? Would he say something else about his mother to provoke him? Would he force a fight here, in his own room?
Oxzy grew more and more tense. His knuckles whitened as his hands clenched tight. Should he say something? What could he even say?
"She's the only reason you stay, right?" Pierce said, his voice suddenly only a few feet away—on the roof. The hero hadn't noticed or heard the villain climb up; he only heard the words, close now. He couldn't react to the threat of the man standing behind him. His thoughts raced, his body refused to respond.
Silence settled.
Oxzy could almost feel Pierce's breath on his neck. All his energy surged back in an instant, and he spun around with his hands raised.
He stopped.
The villain wasn't standing behind him. No one was. He stood alone on the roof, looking around as though he'd lost his mind entirely. He had been hoping the man would be there—why?
Being alone was far worse than he'd expected.
"You should leave now, before I feel obligated to play with you," Pierce's voice called up from the room below.
An uncontrolled sigh of relief escaped Oxzy, his shoulders dropping at the sound of the villain's voice. It was a strange thing to feel about him—but somehow, hearing that mocking, deep voice was better than facing the silence of the wind alone on the roof.
Oxzy stepped back, turning to jump from the building toward home. He couldn't help but glance back once more.
Only for a second, before leaping away.
~Cleoi, Oxzy's apartment~
The hero's mind spun in a frenzy on his way home. He kept to the shadows, staying quiet and low as he entered Cleoi. Even with his precautions, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
*What was that? Why did that damn bastard have to mention her?* Oxzy couldn't stop thinking about Pierce's words. He hated that Pierce had brought up Genna—his mental state had shattered the day he lost her; he'd felt like he'd lost everything.
Even knowing Pierce's wicked games, what truly unsettled Oxzy was his tone. The villain's voice carried no mockery, no hint of joking. His words were anything but a joke. And worse, everything he'd said was true.
No matter how much the hero tried to ignore how the town treated him, what they'd done to him, he still convinced himself he needed to protect them. He was a hero, the hero of the town. What else was he worth, if not their protector?
Oxzy hated how deeply true Pierce's words rang. That truth made it even harder to keep convincing himself of something that wasn't real.
That never had been.
The hero was so consumed by his own thoughts that he dismissed the strange feeling creeping at the edges of his mind. He felt eyes on him but didn't bother to turn, too distracted to notice.
As quietly as the hero moved, someone watched him enter his apartment through the window.