~Cleoi, Oxzy's apartment~
Oxzy got up bright and early with not much on his mind. He didn't have anything to do today besides getting cat food and some pebble fruits for Kamari. Speaking of Kamari, the small rodent was chewing up her small cloth bed from outside the cage.
Oxzy never planned on getting a rat for a pet, but believe it or not, the small critter actually came with Cirilla May. The rodent and feline were surprisingly close—closer than one would think prey and predator could be. They would play, eat, snack, sleep, even bathe together. They were like a family, with the hero being a new addition.
Kamari gave no indication that she noticed her owner kneeling right beside her. She was fully focused on ripping up the bedding until he gave her back a little tap. The fuzzy animal turned to his finger, rubbing lightly against the tip before giving a little nibble. Oxzy only chuckled, petting her head fluff before standing up.
He put on his usual attire: a white dress shirt paired with a big sweater bearing a dull pattern, and long black jeans to keep warm. He dressed and headed out.
His mission might seem small and less action-packed compared to what he usually did when leaving his small, secluded apartment. Where he lived remained unknown to everyone in town, mostly for his own safety—so that when a villain or some thieves decided to come after him or seek revenge, he wouldn't have to move so much. He still did move occasionally, just to be safe, but not often.
Everyone close to him always ended up hurt in some way.
The town was lightly scattered with people, some going about their normal routines. Oxzy drew a few looks as he rode his street bike; most people recognized him. Some saw him as heroic and brave, others as foolish and overbearing, but most viewed him as an impractical hero—one they blamed for every misfortune that befell their city.
He reached the pet store fairly quickly, ignoring all the eyes that followed him. He walked straight to where he needed to go, reaching the counter within seconds.
The woman behind the counter began bagging the dried fruit pebbles, the cat food, and a small bedding while the hero pulled out what he needed to pay. He heard a few hushed voices nearby; he already knew where they came from and didn't need to look. He looked anyway.
Glancing behind him, his eyes caught a few clusters of people whispering while watching him. Some words drifted his way—a few he couldn't quite catch, others he refused to listen to.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, forcing himself to ignore them. He had to get used to it, though by now it had become an everyday burden he simply endured.
"Uhh... if you don't mind me asking, Oxzy..." The woman behind the counter pulled his attention back. He turned to her and raised an eyebrow in his usual quiet fashion. "...is there a way you could use your... 'powers' so that your own town doesn't, well, fall?" Her last words came out as a nervous giggle, as though she'd said something awkward and hoped it would pass as normal—it only made things more awkward.
Oxzy looked down, a bit uneasy and unwilling. A part of him felt annoyed and offended. He wanted to voice that to the ignorant lady in front of him, but his heart stopped his instinct. "I do my best to keep everything intact. But stuff still happens... I can't keep everything perfect."
The answer seemed only to fuel the lady's curiosity further. She seemed keen on asking the hero more, all seemingly related to how Oxzy uses what he's given to destroy buildings. More and more. Only, there wasn't enough time, nor did Oxzy have the patience to answer any more of the lady's questions. Even if he did tell her—not just her, but the people around who couldn't keep their eyes off him—how he fights the villain who loves to destroy things...
The villain enjoyed seeing things crumble and burn, light up and blow apart. Oxzy did his best to counter that and fix as much of the mess as he could without making it worse. But like he said, he's not perfect.
"Also, do you-"
"Thank you, have a good day," Oxzy interrupted before she could finish, packing up the pet supplies before heading off.
He couldn't hear what she said after him; he didn't turn around to check. Yes, it was rude to walk off when someone behind him was calling, but Oxzy was only human, and he too couldn't always be nice and decent.
He couldn't be perfect.
~Grubs, Pierce's home~
Pierce had just gotten off the phone with a friend he'd asked to come help with the job he'd gotten that day. His friend was a handful filled with poisoned treats; her favorite thing to do was light paper on fire and throw it at unsuspecting people to watch them jump in fear. She also smoked to keep herself calm—if that was just an excuse, then that was just an excuse.
The 29-year-old was on her way while the villain stocked up on food. He usually spent a long time out doing his jobs, so he brought snacks to keep his spirits and energy up. That, and because his friend was always high and hungry.
The villain stood leaning against the counter in the small, dirty, brown kitchen. He took small sips of his beer, waiting for his friend Mercy Whitney to arrive. At that moment, his father walked in—a scruffy, short man with tufts of auburn-brown hair. He stood at least a foot shorter than most men there; Pierce got his height from his mother's side. She stood 5'10", while her father stood around 6'7".
"You're up early," the old man chuckled. He grabbed a beer with the now-broken handle, opened it, and leaned on the counter next to his much taller son. "So, when are you leaving to do the job...?" the father asked hesitantly, looking over to Pierce with a bit of awkwardness in his voice.
Pierce kept his eyes forward, not bothering to look at him. "Waiting for Mercy," he replied.
Azeral laughed lightly, running his palms over his dirty jeans. "Right, right. You always do..."
The awkwardness hung clear as day around them. They didn't usually talk like a father and son; most of their conversations consisted of the father trying to start one and the son ignoring him. In truth, Pierce didn't care—he'd never liked any of his family members, especially his older siblings, and lucky for him, they'd moved out. They'd moved out mostly because of him; they were scared of him, scared of what he'd done to them. That, and because they now lived with their partners—though not far away. They still lived in a close-knit area of town, near the grubs and the homeless, like Pierce, Zella, Azeral, and all his other younger siblings.
It grew quiet after that, nothing but the two men sipping beer. The quiet broke when the front door was shoved open aggressively. Both men went on alert, turning to see the chocolate-brown hair of a pale-skinned woman. Mercy strutted in with no regard for the half-broken door she'd just made worse, finishing her smoke and dusting the ashes off the wooden boards before turning to the two men.
Pierce gave her a smile, standing up and tossing her a beer. She caught it, smiling back at her friend.
"Took you long enough, dumbass," he laughed, dusting himself off and shoving a bag of snacks into her handbag. She hissed at him in annoyance, pulling her bag away from his hands. "Oh, hush, don't whine. I know how hungry you get when you're high."
"Could at least say something before doing it, asshole," she shot back. The old delinquent opened the glass bottle of beer and took a sip.
"Slut."
"Fuckface."
The two laughed at the insults they threw at each other, gathering what they needed before heading to the door. The father watched the pair pack up; he stood from the counter, intending to say something to his son before he left.
"H-Hey-"
But they left before he could finish, his son not even bothering to acknowledge his father's words. He'd heard the old man, but in truth, he didn't care.
~Formay, police station~
The job, the mission the villain was on, was fairly simple: he had to rob the sheriff's office. He had to rob it for a man he needed to get out—a drug trafficker. If the police dug deep into the man's record, he could rat out everyone else in the business, getting all the money and people involved locked up. It would be a disaster for everyone who lived in the grubs.
So that was one of the reasons Zella wanted the villain out to do it quickly. Obviously, Pierce didn't care. He didn't need the money. He could take whatever he wanted, get whatever he needed to live.
The only reason he keeps doing these jobs he's given is that his parents want the money. They want to keep their horrible life the same. They just use him to make things easier.
Mercy swung her head back in a loud, dramatic sigh. She turned to her friend, clad in dark gray sweatpants paired with a black ripped jean jacket over a simple dark gray-blue tank top. The outfit faded him into the background, if not for his hair, which made it obvious who he was.
The brown-haired girl noticed his outfit choice. She snorted with amusement. "You know, with that choice of style, it would've been smarter to cover that mess of hair." She laughed out loud. "That spiky hair of yours makes it really obvious to everyone around what you're up to."
"Maybe I don't care," Pierce replied, a smirk in his voice. "I don't plan on making this quiet and slow." What he said was true. He didn't want to do it slowly—not only was that his style, but he also knew that even if one person recognized him, they'd think the worst. Call the sirens. Ruin everything, just at the mere sight of him.
"Of course you'd take the fast route," she said, smirking over at him. "Or maybe... you want to call over a fellow curly idiot."
Pierce knew what she was getting at, and well... she wasn't exactly wrong.
"What can I say..." He looked away from her before finishing his sentence. "I do enjoy his company..."
"'Company?' That's a bit of an understatement. You can come up with much better words to describe him being with you." She smirked, her eyes darkening. "Or better yet, describe what you wanna do to him~" Giggles coated her last words.
Pierce shoved her shoulder, not denying what she said one bit. A smile crossed his face, but annoyance was clear in his eyes. She knew what she was doing—she loved riling the evil beast up. "Right. And you know, why don't you look at what you're wearing? Trying to be stealthy? You look worse than me."
"Worse??" Mercy looked him over, then glanced down at her own outfit and laughed out loud. She wore a tight turtleneck tank top, no jacket, only tattoos and bracelets covering her arms. Her face had a nose piercing and long lashes that fluttered along with her black makeup. She also wore short, ripped, ruffled shorts, her legs covered in tattoos just like her top half.
"I came with style, and enough of it to keep me under the radar."
"You look like a gothic hooker." Pierce rolled his eyes, countering her snarky remark with one of his own.
"And you look like the Grim Reaper's son going through an angsty phase."
"I didn't choose my hair color." Pierce looked back at her.
Mercy kept her eyes forward, a laugh escaping her red, painted lips with a ring through them. "But you did choose that style."
Pierce smacked the back of her head.
The conversation had to end quickly now that they stood in front—or rather, behind the building, where trees covered their approach. As Pierce had told Mercy, he preferred to work fast, perhaps leaving a few piles of rubble and fire behind before leaving.
"So," Mercy said, interrupting his train of thought. He didn't bother glancing at her as she turned to him. "What's the plan?"
"I'm gonna surround and cover the station while you distract them," he replied.
She smirked, knowing exactly what he meant. "So you brought me along to use me as bait?"
"You're the best at it."
She laughed, standing up and dusting herself off. "And here you were, talking about my outfit choice~"
"No, I was right about it, you hooker."
She shoved him before heading into the building. Her role was simple, at least in their eyes. All she had to do was keep the officers' attention—however many were in today—on her. From what she could see, only two people stood up front, talking and typing at a computer.
As Mercy approached, she puffed up her chest when another man walked in. Her steps slowed; she turned to lean against the wall and listen in, pulling out her phone to seem busy. The men didn't even notice her.
"Did you find anything?" the one who'd just walked in asked.
The blond-haired man wearing the sheriff's hat, clearly in charge of the station, shook his head without even glancing up. "Not yet. But trust me, I know that man has some hidden dirt on him!" He seemed certain, scrolling through the computer file on the man brought in yesterday.
That man must be the one Mercy and Pierce needed to free. The sheriff looked thoroughly irritated and stressed. "We just have to dig harder to find something."
"Well, he's already here, Milo. We have time to find something."
"Yeah, but sexual assault won't keep a man in for long." Sheriff Milo Clay sighed. Mercy shot him a confused glance. "So instead of walking around doing jack shit, how about helping me with this, Jamisen?" The blond sheriff looked to the man leaning back against the table. The man in uniform growled but did as his superior ordered.
Seeing most of them getting back to work instead of sitting idle, Mercy stood up and put her phone away. Moving forward, she put on a flirty smile. "Why the long faces, boys? It doesn't seem so busy today." She strutted forward, catching the attention of all three men, including the one who'd been standing, who now stopped to listen.
"Uh, we just have a lot on our hands," answered the man seated beside the blond sheriff—Jamisen Ted.
Mercy glanced at him, letting her soft brown curls dangle. She smiled lightly. "Really..." Her voice dropped as she leaned her front half onto the counter before the sheriff and Jamisen, her backside angled for the standing man to see. She tilted her head and gave them a look. "I'm sorry. It must be so hard for you guys right now, dealing with all those horrible people living in the grubs."
The standing man smirked, giving her a full once-over before replying with confidence. "Thanks for the compassion, but we can handle them. We know how to deal with useless people like that." He stepped forward, intending to flatter the woman before him.
Mercy was anything but flattered. Inside, she felt frustrated and annoyed, yet she hid it and gave the men what they wanted. She was good at that. "I bet you guys could. You're really good at your job..." she said, eyes lowered, cringing inside.
The sheriff scoffed, growing annoyed with the officer. "Enough. Go finish what you were doing, Ronny." He shooed the standing officer away. The man growled but moved off toward the hallway.
Mercy, growing annoyed with the sheriff, turned her body toward him, moving closer to his face. "You're very stressed, Milo..." She let her voice turn sultry, lowering her eyes to give him a seductive look.
It worked, to some extent—it made both men at the computers look at her simultaneously, their full attention on her. Mercy smirked when she saw Jamisen gulp, something stirring beneath him. Milo cursed, shaking his head, and Mercy lost his attention entirely.
Well, aren't you a bit of a buzzkill, she thought, making a face at him.
Jamisen still had his eyes on her and moved closer to where she perched. "You... are you... maybe busy later—"
The thirsty man was cut off by a scream, accompanied by the building shaking. The sounds of rocks and steel crashing sent both men up front tumbling down; Milo shot to his feet, alert. Alarms blared, mixed with a man's screaming. Milo shouted at Jamisen to follow him before sprinting toward the source of the scream.
Mercy stayed where she was, not even flinching at the destruction that could be heard but not seen. "About time..." she mumbled, leaving through the front door.
While that was happening, Pierce had made his way to the top of the station and to where the prisoners were held. He had broken into the station a few times before, but this time he was bored. He wanted to make this time different, so he steered away from the plan he'd told Mercy about "surrounding" the station.
How would he do that? First, he needed to locate the man he had to break out. Once the man was free, he could do whatever he wanted—breaking him out in style.
The man he was after sat in front of a chained door, with no key or anything else required for escape. Pierce got in easily, since Mercy kept the two guards occupied out front and they never saw him slip past. That, and the fact that he could teleport. He moved past a guard doing nothing but patrolling the halls, then phased through to reach the holding cells.
The man they needed wasn't the only one there. Another man sat in the cell beside him. They seemed to know each other, and Pierce could hear them whining about getting caught. He didn't care; he just wanted to have some fun while doing what he'd been told.
The man groaned from within his cell. "Stop trying to seem cool about it! I'm busted. Zella's gonna fucking kill me for this!"
"It's all because of that damn hero!" the other cursed, hunched over. Pierce slowed his steps upon hearing them mention Oxzy, a small smirk crossing his face. "If it wasn't for him..."
"And that damn bitch."
"Man, you guys whine a lot," Pierce said, making both of them jump in shock. When they realized who had spoken, a flicker of fear crossed their faces. The villain found comfort in that. "So you got got by Oxzy?"
The question made the man who'd mentioned the hero step back. He looked confused but knew he had to answer. "Yeah..."
"That must mean he'll come here when he hears you're out, no?"
The villain wasn't wrong. Every person Oxzy caught and put away, if they ended up free again, he came running to put them back. And that was exactly what Pierce wanted.
Pierce walked straight to the cell and, without missing a beat, lifted his leg and kicked the barred door. It flew open under his strength, snapping apart at the ends and crashing down, nearly crushing the prisoner inside. "Get out and get going."
Pierce didn't even wait for the stunned man to move before turning to leave, only to find an officer blocking his path. The villain laughed at the sight of the gun pointed at him, while the officer stood shaking, sweat rolling down his fearful face. Pierce knew the man could and would shoot him. Only one thing stopped him.
Fear.
Knowing he held the upper hand, Pierce moved closer slowly, forcing the guard to take a threatened step back. "D-Don't come closer...!"
"Or what? You gonna shoot me?" the villain cooed in amusement. Behind him, he could hear the freed prisoner stalking forward, ready for whatever came next. "If you're not gonna do it, I don't have to wait, then."
With his final words, he turned his hands toward the wooden floor. Fire erupted and tackled the officer. A loud, pained scream tore from the man's mouth, and the villain shivered in delight at the sight and sound. When the officer's lower half burst into flame, Pierce knelt down and slammed his fist into the wooden tiles. The force triggered an explosion that tore through the boards and up into the top half of the building.
The blast was directed beneath the tiles, between the two halves of wood, to keep the top floor standing. Now that the building shook from Pierce's power, both halves began to collapse. The man's screams still echoed, mixing with shouts coming from the stairwell. "Looks like it's our time to go."
The villain walked backward toward the now-open roof, then jumped and used his strength to balance on a long wooden panel hanging a few feet above the ground. Behind him, the man he'd freed yelled for him to wait, but Pierce only rolled his eyes. Other officers shouted after them as well.
"H-Hey! Help, help!" the freed man screamed, his voice full of hope and fear. Two officers rushed behind him, one trying to put out the other's flames. "Please! Help—!"
The villain silenced him with a crushing motion of his hand in that direction. The man vanished in a flash of black light and dust. Only Pierce knew where he'd ended up.
"You son of a bitch! You're not gonna get away!" Milo raised his gun and aimed it at the unbothered villain.
Pierce chuckled, dark veins pulsing visibly through his deep amber eyes. His voice carried no real menace—only pure amusement. "Who will stop me?"
Milo cursed and growled, firing off a few shots, all of which missed. Pierce didn't even flinch, didn't even move. "Fucking monster," Milo growled, firing again and missing once more. The villain's laughter only fueled his rage. "Just you wait! Oxzy will come! He'll put an end to you, so go ahead and keep trying!"
The explosion hadn't even finished echoing when the sirens began.
Pierce smiled, unfazed by the chaos erupting behind him. "Actually..." he said, his voice dripping with mockery as yells and alarms pierced the air. He knew exactly what that meant—Oxzy was already on his way, mere seconds after the station went up in flames.
"That's what I want."