~The Grubs, Pierce's home~
The hero's sobs echoed within the small bathroom. They felt like needles digging into the villain's ears, hitting and stabbing at his heart. The man said nothing; he stood outside the bathroom with his head against the wall. Oxzy sobbed from inside, throwing up his insides with violent gagging.
It hurt for some reason. It hurt to listen to the sound, to be unable to do anything to stop it. If anything, he had encouraged and caused it. But he was the villain—that's what he does.
So why did he feel bad about it?
He shouldn't, and he knew that. The man turned around, setting his back to the door. He closed his eyes and listened. All he did was listen to the man. He took in the sobs, and no matter how much it hurt his heart, he listened silently.
He didn't know how long he stood there. He just stayed in the same position, silent, waiting for the painful sounds to end. He said nothing; it had been almost ten minutes since Oxzy had run into the bathroom.
Pierce sighed. He knew the man was waiting for him to leave—it would feel awkward for Oxzy to come out with the villain still standing there. With a hesitant look, the villain walked away from the door. He glanced around his room, grabbed a few things, and headed downstairs.
A few seconds later, he came back up, wiping up the mess they had made. He finished cleaning and looked back toward the bathroom. With his heightened senses, he tried to listen to what Oxzy was doing. The man was panting with tired breaths—at least he wasn't crying anymore. Pierce went back downstairs, keeping his senses alert in case the hero left the bathroom.
Still, Oxzy didn't leave, so the villain stayed near his room. His pathetic excuse of a family had already left, which made things easier for him in the living room. His father had cleaned up as ordered, and boredom crept through the villain as he waited, senses still sharp.
He was hoping to hear the hero leave the bathroom, but instead he heard something outside his house. Normally it wouldn't be an issue, but this time it was directly outside his home. A small group of men whispered as they approached the door. Feeling slightly annoyed because of Oxzy, the villain decided to confront them.
It was easy enough—he stood in front of his door, leaning against it to listen. The men reached the door, whispering and hushing each other, until one said something that caught the villain's attention.
"—Felix said to just do it—"
The villain heard the sound of the knob turning and smirked. With a swift, silent motion, Pierce pulled the door open, and the man whose hand had been on the knob fell flat. He yelped in shock, landing on his hands, and looked around.
He didn't notice Pierce standing behind him by the door. What he did notice was a shadow blocking the light from outside. Looking up in shock, he found the villain staring down at him, the other man's collar already in his grasp. Pierce held them both—one by the shirt, the other pinned beneath him. Neither could escape.
"Felix said what? Hm?" The villain glared at the man below him.
The man began to shake, raising his hands in defense. "I- I- sor-sorry!"
Pierce rolled his eyes; pleading and raised hands wouldn't keep them safe. He leaned down slightly, pulling the man in his grip along with him. The man cried out in pain, collapsing to the floor from the villain's effortless pull. "I'll ask you again, nicely." He kept his expression neutral, tilting his head in a way that made the man flinch. "What did Felix tell you to do?"
The man sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut. "He- He told us to check! Jus-just to check on y-you...!"
"Hm..." The villain hummed, eyeing him skeptically.
"It's true!" the man in his hold cried out, struggling harder to break free.
Pierce tightened his grip, summoning small flames to sear the man's flesh. The man screamed, trying to push the fire away, but the villain only made the flames grow. He burned his flesh slowly until the man stopped moving. Only then did Pierce let the flames vanish, turning his attention to the other man.
That man looked up in horror, certain Pierce had just killed his companion. He didn't want the same fate. With a shaky gulp, he faced the villain.
"Your b-brother... was told that the h-hero was here...!" he whimpered. The villain's eyes darkened, and the man grew even more frightened. "For your sake! He was just worried!"
"I don't need a rat like him to worry..." Pierce leaned down, eyeing the man, who shrank back and tried to scramble away. Pierce shook his head. "Well, I see you have nothing else to give..."
The man flinched as Pierce seized his collar, now holding both men in his grasp without breaking a sweat. He writhed wildly in fear, fighting back for his life, but Pierce ignored him and turned toward the open door, dragging both men out. The man pleaded to be released.
His pleas fell on deaf ears. Pierce stopped just beyond his porch and, without a word, hurled the unconscious man into the street. He hit the ground with a sickening crack. The other man shrieked, grasping desperately at Pierce, missing every attempt, before he too was lifted into the air.
A scream tore through the street, echoing off the houses before a loud crash silenced everything. The man now lay bloody and still in Pierce's hand. Pierce sighed in relief.
"Finally, you shut up." He smiled to himself, dragging the man off the porch before dropping him into the street. He didn't bother checking whether either man still breathed; he simply made his way back to his door.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Immediately, he heard sounds coming from upstairs—faint, but enough to make him hurry up the steps. It sounded like Oxzy had left the bathroom, and indeed he had.
Pierce entered his room to find the hero holding the black undershirt he'd been found in. The villain had washed it and left it in the dryer beside the bathroom; it seemed Oxzy had retrieved it and put it back on, discarding the sweater Pierce had given him. The hero looked up, surprised, as the villain entered the room.
Pierce tried to piece everything together as Oxzy shuffled in place. The hero stared at the ground, searching for something to say. But before he could speak, the villain spoke first.
"Leaving looking like that?"
The hero flinched, glancing down at himself, his face heating up. He wore only the wrinkled black undershirt and a large pair of red sport shorts that belonged to the villain. Still, what else was he supposed to wear?
He had nothing else—nothing to his name.
Only the black shirt he'd been assaulted in.
Pierce chuckled at the hero's silence. Shaking his head, he stepped forward. "Where are you gonna go? You got some safe house I don't know about or something?"
The hero's face burned with embarrassment. He tried to shake it off, clutching the shirt to his chest.
Instead of answering as Pierce had hoped, Oxzy stood in silence, his face flushed red, his body shifting uncomfortably. The villain couldn't help but find the whole thing amusing.
"You have nowhere to go, Ox. You have no home. No family."
The hero gritted his teeth. "Shut up..." he whispered, shifting uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on the ground so he wouldn't have to look at Pierce.
Still, the villain moved closer. "You know it's true. The hero has nothing left. He doesn't even have powers to defend himself."
Oxzy felt his eyes water. He wanted to say something—anything—to defend himself, but he felt so weak. He had to be cared for by the villain, and that wasn't even the worst part. Worse still, everything Pierce said was true.
Pierce watched Oxzy's every move, every reaction, and drank it in. He wanted to be heard; he wanted the hero to look at him. He was telling the truth, after all—even if it was harsh, everything he said was true. Oxzy had nowhere to go.
"You lost everything. You have no one left—no home, no pets." The villain's blood rose as he stepped forward, hands raised, a crazed look in his eyes.
The hero remained silent, though the words hurt. They struck and sank beneath his skin, his body tensing as tears clouded his vision.
The villain was nearly touching him now, yet still there was no reaction. Why wouldn't he say anything? It only angered Pierce further—he wanted Oxzy to understand that it was true, that he had nowhere to go, that he was stuck here.
Stuck here with Pierce.
"Everything is gone. You'll be weak out there. You have nothing left—not even your own mother."
Those words finally made the hero react. He swung his hand with lightning speed, striking the villain across the face. Silence followed the loud smack, filling the room completely.
The villain felt a hot sting spread across his cheek. He turned back, his eyes falling on the man whose hand still trembled from the slap. Oxzy's eyes were red, tears streaming down as he glared with hatred. The villain stared into his eyes, stunned, barely comprehending what had just happened.
"I know...! I know that!" the hero yelled, tears falling freely. "I don't need some sadistic asshole to tell me such things... I know I have nothing, but I'd rather live with nothing than stay another second with you...!"
The villain looked at him, his eyes open wide at the shouts of hatred. The look of hatred in the man's eyes was intoxicating. It felt different; it wasn't the everyday hate the hero usually looked at him with. It was a new one. A new type of hate—it was the bad kind of intoxication. It swarmed around inside Pierce's body, making his mind and eyes wander.
He didn't feel like himself. He was overcome with anger, with rage. The man smiled, looking back at Oxzy, who had put his arm away. He laughed lightly, shaking his head as he looked away.
The motion made the hero flinch, and he turned slightly. He feared the outburst he saw about to explode. The villain's reactions scared him; his body language was rigid, as if he were being played by strings.
"You're acting REAL stupid, hero.." He shook his head, his hand in his messy hair, and shot a look at Oxzy. "Really.. Really..."
He walked forward, each step echoing in the hero's ears. The man walked back on reflex, trying to hold in his tears as the man before him stalked forward. He didn't have enough time to react when Pierce grabbed his face harshly.
"Real fucking stupid, aren't you?" He smiled madly, looking down at the hero in his hand. He squeezed his face, watching as Oxzy looked up in fear, tears running through his fingers. "You have nothing!"
Oxzy closed his eyes tightly, crying silently while Pierce shook his head violently. His fingers dug into his flesh, leaving red marks that sank into his skin and down to the bone. It hurt. The hero tried to shove away, but he was too scared. He couldn't do anything; he tried to use energy, to push and fight him off. But nothing came—he was completely defenseless. Nothing could save him from the mad villain holding onto him with a death grip.
"You should just stay here. Stay with me.." His voice dimmed, his hold on Oxzy's face slowly relaxing.
"Mgh..!" The hero gritted his teeth in pain, pulling away with the little energy he had. Still, Pierce held on; he shook and pulled, earning nothing but a confused stare from the villain.
"Ha.." Pierce laughed out, shaking his head as he watched tears fall from his hands. They hit the ground in silence, leaving the man motionless.
Soon only the sound of Oxzy's sobs filled the room. The villain couldn't tear his eyes away. He looked deep into the hero's eyes; it was very evidently fear looking back at him.
It shocked him.
Real fear was coming from Oxzy, looking back at him in a silent plea. It was everything Pierce had wanted. It was what he craved to see, to fight out of the stone-cold man who would throw him to the ground.
Now it was here, looking back at him. But now, Pierce didn't like seeing it.
After spending time with the hero, who was weak and in need of safety, it changed—the look, the feeling.
Pierce didn't know what it was, but he didn't like it. He hated it.
He wanted to stop it.
"Mh.." The hero whimpered in his grasp, pulling Pierce out of his thoughts. He looked at him, pulling him away, leaving a trail of red stains and falling tears.
The hero was shaking, pulling himself away as much as he could from the man. Pierce felt the hand he held onto Oxzy shiver, a cold feeling running up his spine, leaving his body shaking.
His hand felt heavy, sore, and painful. The red marks on Oxzy's face hit him right in the heart, along with the tears that fell past them, running down the marks.
The marks he made. The marks he said he wanted to make.
But not marks that would leave the hero in tears. He didn't want that.
He didn't want this.
The hero found some energy left, and with a shot of courage, he ran past the motionless villain. The man didn't react in time, feeling the wind fly past him as Oxzy ran away. He dashed down the stairs, escaping from the home.
Pierce was going to run after him; he tried to grab him, but the man was already gone. Only the open door of his home remained as a trace of the escape.
The villain looked on, a hollow opening in his chest.
~The Grubs, the streets~
The hero ran and ran. His intention was to reach the end of the Grubs; the streets were brightly lit, and some people watched as he ran past them. Oxzy didn't even think about his condition—he just wanted to get out of there.
The haunting evil of the Grubs chased after him; the exit into Hallway side seemed so far away. His bare feet hit the ground over and over, stinging into his flesh. His face hurt, the burning marks of Pierce's fingers glowing red on his cheek.
"Hey! HEY!" Shouts came from behind him.
Oxzy held the shirt close to his chest, his vision burning with stray tears. Still, he ran. He didn't look behind him; the sound of pounding footsteps mirroring his own made him run faster.
"The hero! The hero-" The voices came closer.
The closer Oxzy got to the exit, the louder their voices grew. One was right behind him, and the hero felt a surge of energy rush into his hands. He dashed along the streets, men who wanted him dead following close behind, running as fast as he could with adrenaline coursing through his bones.
Why was he the one running?
The hero growled in anger as a hand grabbed his shoulder. Oxzy shot his hand behind him, striking a man with a light spike. It was a bright flash; energy pent up inside the hero gave his skin a bright glow.
The man grunted, falling onto his back, steam rising off his burnt hand. He looked up in shock, eyes falling onto the hero.
"Don't fucking touch me," the hero growled out. The energy in his body healed everything broken inside him; he breathed with ease, a lively stance with hostile intent directed at everyone around him.
The people stopped, realizing he was using his powers. They slowly stepped back, and one person dashed off.
The man on the ground yelled, jumping up with his hand outstretched. Without a second thought, Oxzy swung his hand up, his body bending as a large root shot from the ground. The cement broke as it freed itself from the earth, hitting the man in the chest. He flew, hitting watchers as they sprawled onto the ground.
The hero didn't feel afraid anymore; energy ran up his arm and into his hand. The root fell back to the ground as Oxzy turned around and exited the Grubs.
~Formay, police station~
"Sir! Sir!" An officer ran into the office, opening the door without warning. The sheriff stood up, about to shout at him, when the officer spoke first. "We have a sighting of the hero!"
Milo shot up from his seat, tossing papers around as he walked forward. "Where?"
Without a second of hesitation, Milo took off in the police car. The men had found the hero in Daylight, near a ruined old construction site. It was bizarre—the hero must have gone back to his old home. But there was nothing there. Only a large mound of piled-up dirt and tree stumps, hidden in a dense small forest that no one visits.
Even so, the sheriff went straight there, with a few other men trailing behind just in case. Jamisen had tried to go after him, but Milo ignored his fellow officer. He was only thinking about Oxzy.
How sorry he was.
~Daylight, ruined old home~
Oxzy didn't know where else to go. He traveled where he could, hiding in the shadows to avoid people. His feet felt sore, the burst of adrenaline soon dying, along with his energy. He wanted to rest, but no place felt safe.
He went to the only place he believed to be safe—his old home, where Genna and now Crillia were buried.
His knees dug into the dirt, his body dripping with sweat. He felt exhausted after using his abilities. He hadn't eaten since Pierce fed him; it had been a while since he ran away. He ran and hid all the way to Daylight, part of him wanting to book a hotel, or find anything for the night. But it was too dangerous.
He would have to gain some energy while here. At that time, he hoped no one would see him—that he would be alone there.
He tried to shake off the thoughts, his head aching with anxiety. His hand went to the ground, ruffling the soft dirt as he looked at the gravestone in front of him.
He was the only one at his mother's funeral. A few people knew about it, but it was obvious no one would come—he didn't want anyone to. It still hurt that his father, who had left when he was young, didn't show up. Oxzy was told that his father knew about everything. But still, living in a different place, he didn't bother to come.
It was better that way. Just him and his mother were enough.
Even with Oxzy's powers and the dangerous life they lived, they found peace. She was the best mother in the world; she made the best soup when he was sick. On lonely, stormy nights, she would pick him up and fly him into the sky.
Of course, Oxzy was much younger back then. He was also afraid of many things—the loud sounds of the storm, the dark that swallowed the outside. But Genna was always there, her soothing voice and deep smile making his whole body relax. She swung him around in her arms all night, singing songs she had listened to as a teenager.
All the while, Oxzy fell asleep into the stormy night. He didn't hear the thunder; all he heard was the sound of her voice, the warmth of her chest, the heartbeat echoing within his ears.
The hero hung his head low, tears falling from his sore, red eyes.
They were good memories—something he could never feel again. She was gone. She and his beloved Crillia May were both gone.
He only had the small open space left for them, a space in the very town that had destroyed them, destroyed his life.
All of it gone, because of them…
Oxzy gritted his teeth, seething with his wet eyes closed tightly. He could do nothing but cry and cry, pitying himself. What was he going to do?
He couldn't take revenge like he wanted. He couldn't kill anyone.
He stayed there for an hour, letting the silence absorb him. It was cut short by a distant sound; Oxzy's senses sharpened. Still, it was weak, a faint wincing noise coming from a small stepping path that led to this closed-off area.
When the hero managed to turn his head and body toward the sound, the person was already there. To his shock, it was Milo.
"Oxzy…" the sheriff breathed out, taking in the state of the man right away. The hero wore only a long black undershirt and red shorts, no shoes. His legs were littered with dirt, faint purple bruises visible.
The sheriff rushed forward, coming closer as he realized the hero began to stir. Oxzy stood up, stepping away from the oncoming sheriff. Milo stopped, breathing out quickly. "Oxzy… I-"
He didn't know what to say. Closer now, he saw ugly purple marks on the hero's neck—a few faint bite marks he could make out, his face looking tired and red.
The marks made his body stiffen.
Who would do that? When did this happen? The questions kept coming; he shouldn't let his mind wander, he had other things to think about, to worry about.
The hero slowly backed away, casting his head down so his black curls hung over his neck. Still, the sheriff saw it all—Oxzy knew that, but he couldn't help trying to maintain some dignity.
Milo still didn't say anything. Oxzy took that as a sign to flee. He didn't want to, of course; this was his place, his last remembrance of his family. It was Milo who should leave. Oxzy wanted to make him go away—he had his powers, and even weakened, they could still help him.
The blonde sheriff took a hesitant step, watching Oxzy's every move. The hero was on guard, eyeing a possible exit, almost ready to run like a cat. The sheriff stopped himself from stepping closer.
"I'm sorry, Oxzy.." He held his hand out, making the hero look back at him. "I won't do anything to you, I promise. But you shouldn't stay here. You could catch a cold…"
Milo gave a pointed look at the clothes Oxzy was wearing. The hero looked away. Suddenly, something was draped over his shoulders; he shot his head up, facing Milo, who was putting his coat over him.
Oxzy tried to pull it off, but Milo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I promise not to do anything, Oxzy. Please, just let me do this for you…" His voice was low, his eyes almost pleading.
"I-"
"You don't have anywhere to go, right? I know about your home…" Milo interrupted, looking at the ground sheepishly. "It's getting dark, please. Let me take you to the station. Or somewhere…"
Oxzy shook his head, taking a step back. Milo followed, and as Oxzy nearly fell, Milo offered his outstretched hand. "Anywhere. Just let me bring you somewhere safe."
The hero looked at the hand, his eyes growing hot and heavy. What else could he do?
How long had he been making stupid decisions? What would this change for him?
"Alright.." the hero replied shortly, turning his head away from the hand.
Milo pulled his hand away with a tight smile on his face. Still, he led Oxzy to the car, making sure the silent man followed with every step.