~The Grubs, the warehouse~
Felix watched the screen stay the same, his expression tense, his eyes straining for any sort of pop-up. He held tightly onto the desk, waiting and waiting. Still, the screen stayed the same.
He had seen the video marked as read almost an hour ago. He waited in temptation for a response from Pierce after seeing it, only... nothing came. Felix stayed unmoving, watching the screen for something. For anything.
He felt extremely desperate. Why wasn't Pierce responding?
"Fuck!" Felix threw himself against the back of his chair, letting out an annoyed groan.
He looked at the seat near the window; Mercy wasn't there. He pulled himself up, watching in confusion. He hadn't heard her leave, hadn't seen her leave, if anything. What had happened?
As soon as he had seen that Pierce had read his message, he had been fully focused on a response. So much so that he hadn't realized Mercy had left. Where would she have gone?
Felix turned the screen up to look at his other messages. Without a second thought, he dialed Mercy's phone. He waited in silence as the rings flooded the office room. A few seconds later, Mercy picked up.
"Mercy, when did you leave? Why did you leave already? I thought you wanted to stay for when my parents get here—"
He stopped mid-sentence when he heard a few sniffs from the other end. He didn't say anything, listening quietly as Mercy silently wept on the other end of the phone. It wasn't until Mercy caught her breath that she gave a slow sigh.
"Huh, I thought you were too in love with your phone to notice," Mercy said, a smirk clear in her voice.
It would have made him laugh at the sarcasm, but instead it stirred his insides. He felt his blood pump, his mind racing with ideas. It wasn't normal for Mercy to be like this; something had happened. Felix believed he knew what it was, but he wasn't so sure.
"Mercy... what happened? Are you with Pierce?"
Pierce couldn't have hurt her. He was a bad person, but not to someone like Mercy. Felix was sure of that, but the hitch in Mercy's breathing made him think otherwise.
"Not anymore," she replied shortly.
"What happened? I know he saw the video—" Felix stopped, realizing what he had just implied. A small thread of excitement crept in, hiding behind fear. "He's coming over, right?"
The smile was clear in his voice. His eyes widened as he stared ahead. Mercy didn't respond right away; the line went silent.
Suddenly, an emotionless voice answered. "I don't know."
The line went dead—Mercy had hung up. Felix pulled the phone from his ear, staring at the screen for a few seconds to let the information sink in. It was good, if he was right.
Pierce was coming to thank Felix, to learn more about the video, to go along with the next plan. Felix knew that.
So why was he suddenly afraid?
Was it what his mother had told him? Was it the tone in Mercy's voice? What was it?
Felix's thoughts raced; he didn't know what to believe. But he was sure this was what Pierce wanted. He hated the hero, wanted to kill him. He knew that for certain, so why would he be upset?
The little leader was lost in thought when one of his men burst through the office door. Felix jumped back, ready to shout at the man—Alex—for barging in, when the buff gangster spoke first.
"The police are on their way to the warehouse! Someone gave them the address—they're almost here!"
Felix shot forward, pushing past the man to see his whole gang in chaos in the open room. Without a word, he barked out orders. "Get the bottom floor cleaned out! I want the three groups to split up around the stash and blend in." He turned to Alex, a stern expression on his face. "The fourth group will bring what was made downstairs to the city's edge with me."
Alex understood the order, though he couldn't help a stiff reaction at how quickly they had to clear their base of operations. The look on his leader's face told him not to argue, so instead he turned to relay the orders to the respective groups.
Felix turned his attention to the three people who had spotted the police. "Go back and see how far away they are. Report to me the moment they arrive!"
The three dashed outside, slamming the large doors shut behind them as they carried out their orders.
The little leader turned his full attention back to the chaos in the warehouse. He was so focused on escaping with his supplies that he forgot the anxiety he'd felt in his office. He barked orders left and right, watching as the bottom floor was swiftly cleared.
Felix yelled at some men to clean up the office, telling the others who had finished their tasks to load up. Soon enough, the large room emptied of men.
Those downstairs returned to the top, where the blue drugs were piled up—the most important things in the room to Felix. He turned his attention to loading the bags with group four to ship them to the cities.
He was almost done when the warehouse doors were suddenly slammed into. The men in the wide room froze, their bodies tensing as the door was struck again, followed by silence.
Felix stepped forward, reaching behind his back for his gun. He was sure it was the police; his body shook with anticipation. How had they gotten past the men guarding the warehouse? It made no sense to him, but still, he kept his guard up.
His men looked around in fear behind him—the rest of the drugs weren't loaded onto the car yet. They needed to be gone, shipped out with group four, before the police arrived.
The warehouse door went silent; nothing came from the other side. Felix turned his head, growling under his breath in irritation. "What are you shits doing? Get the rest loaded up!" he yelled, raising his gun toward the door.
The men obeyed, scrambling to load everything onto the car inside the warehouse's vast interior.
Felix's shout seemed to trigger the door, which swung open. He and the others braced for a swarm of uniformed men to storm in. His gun was raised, eyes narrowed in a sharp glare. The other men mirrored him, guns ready, as the doors were forced open.
All of them stood frozen, mouths agape, staring at the intruder.
A tall man strolled in, hands clasped behind his back in a formal manner. A faint smile played on his face, shadowed by something dark and grim. The villain fixed his gaze on the young man before him.
He was met with guns, but it didn't seem to faze him. He walked in without a trace of worry, his footsteps echoing through the silence. As he advanced, the men in the warehouse shifted back, watching as bloody shoeprints trailed behind Pierce.
Felix noticed it first, lowering his gun, his breath catching in shock. The warehouse doors behind Pierce swung shut slowly, swallowing the light into a dark abyss.
Still, the young leader saw it—the bodies lying just outside the doors, covered in the blood that trailed in with the villain. They were the men who had been watching for the police, along with those who had guarded the entrance on his orders.
Felix finally looked up at Pierce, who had stopped a few feet in front of him, back to the closed doors, posture straight, eyes forward.
The villain shook his head, a low laugh escaping his lips.
"I didn't like the welcome I was given," he said, his deep voice echoing through the silent warehouse as his arms moved from behind his back into the dim yellow light.
Blood dripped from his stained arms. Flexing his fingers, Pierce raised his bloodied hand to his lips, a chilling smirk spreading across his face, filling the room with dread.
"I have some business to do."
The deep-rooted words struck Felix in the chest. No fear, no excitement remained—only a profound sense of dread.
~The Grubs, the streets~
Oxzy followed silently as the police led the search to wherever they needed to go. The hero didn't feel like checking into the business or probing further. He followed quietly, keeping his guard up while in the slums.
The man Jamisen led the group, ordering people around, while Milo kept his attention on the hero behind them. He kept glancing back, eyes shifting between Jamisen and Oxzy. It wasn't until Jamisen called out for his attention that the sheriff rushed forward.
"Where is it?" Milo asked once he got close to his men.
Jamisen shook his head, eyes squinting into the darkness. "All that was reported to me was by the lake in the slums. I think it's by an abandoned place."
"The best place to make meth..." Milo shook his head, turning to the group of men following them. "I want groups of three to search different places near the bottom of the lake!"
Oxzy looked up, taking in the information and realizing that the police were searching for the warehouse. That horrible place. His muscles tightened as the memories and thoughts hit him in the chest. He let out a sigh, turning his gaze up to the sky as Milo began forming groups.
As the hero let his gaze drift across the dark sky, his eyes landed on something that didn't blend in right—a quick shot of black that swallowed the bright stars into complete darkness. Oxzy stopped walking, squinting slightly.
A sudden breeze rushed past him. The hero watched as the dark shape descended and landed on the ground, slowly forming into a person. The villain brushed his hair back, making no move toward the police as he walked to the edge of the slums.
The hero shifted slightly, hearing the man's pounding footsteps, each filled with purpose. Pierce gave no glance to the oncoming policemen, nor to the hero, who blended in with a spare uniform.
He had a purpose. He was creating a full distraction.
Realizing Pierce was heading to the warehouse, Oxzy formed a few ideas about what he intended to do. The hero, without meaning to, followed the villain, watching him disappear into the darkness hidden behind a few buildings. Pierce was heading to the warehouse for a reason.
Oxzy swallowed hard, hearing a few policemen talking behind him. He stopped at the end of the street, turned around, and sprinted forward.
He ran into a group of policemen searching this side of the slums. They stepped back, looking at him in confusion.
"What? What happened?"
"Did you find it?"
The men stepped back, asking questions while glancing over the hero's shoulder. Oxzy felt his blood run cold; he didn't know what he was doing, but he knew it wasn't a good idea.
Still, his mouth moved on its own.
"I checked over here—there's nothing there." The hero spoke loudly enough for them to hear. The men turned their heads, looking past his shoulder with grim expressions.
A short brunette officer took a step back, nudging his fellow officers. "Let's go tell Milo to give us a different place to search." The man he nudged looked back at him, then at the hero, clearly confused.
"Are you sure we should—"
The brunette pulled him forward, earning an annoyed growl. The other officer thanked Oxzy before following. The man under the brunette's arm shoved him away.
"It's the hero who searched for it," the man said in defense, met with a confused whine from the other officer.
The third officer shook his head, stepping between them. "The hero knows how to search." He glanced over his shoulder, watching Oxzy nod as they left, then turned back to his men. "Plus, why would he, of everyone, lie?"
The hero heard every word pass between the men. He waited until they were out of sight and out of earshot from Milo. Once they were far enough away, he walked forward into the darkness. He knew where he was going, even in the dead of night.
He didn't know why he was going—it was a terrible idea for his already frightened mind. Yet he couldn't stop his legs from speeding up. His thoughts raced, eyes scanning the darkness for the clearing where the warehouse would be hidden.
His eyes landed on the large building with no windows to let light through. His legs stopped moving, his body overtaken by memories of what had happened to him there.
This is a bad idea. I'm crazy for following that man!
Oxzy shook his head, cringing at the choices that had let the villain and the criminals in the warehouse slip away. Even so, he knew the police wouldn't leave the slums without finding this place.
The hero had simply given the men enough time to escape. It wasn't his plan—he was only following the villain. The evil man was here for a reason; he wouldn't let anyone escape.
That much became clear when Oxzy saw at least five dead people outside near the large doors. He forced himself to walk forward, to look at the dead men and the few women lying motionless with bloody, open chests.
The hero knew immediately how they died. Their chests had been punched inward, the holes covered with torn muscle and blood that stained their clothes and skin so dark it looked almost black in the night. He understood then that the villain could only kill this way—his fists carried so much strength that a single blow could punch straight through a human chest.
The kills had been quick, bodies piled atop one another, blood soaking everything. Oxzy swallowed down his rising fear, grateful he hadn't witnessed the killings themselves.
Even though he was the hero, meant to save everyone and anyone, he found he didn't care much for these slum dwellers. They were bad people—they deserved to die. Oxzy was simply thankful he hadn't had to throw the punches himself.
The hero glanced nervously at the footprints leading to the doors—bloody, sticky prints that led into the warehouse. He hesitated. Yes, it was his choice to do this, his choice to follow the villain, to lead the police away from where they needed to go.
It was his choice, and he had to live with the consequences.
With a heavy sigh, Oxzy walked forward, trying to avoid the bloody prints as he circled around to the door. The smell of death hung in the air behind him—blood mixed with a faint hint of vomit. The hero closed his eyes tightly against the foul odor and pushed the door open slowly and silently.
Inside, the dimly lit interior revealed a huge open area where a group of men stood in a loose, organized circle. They held their guns ready, hands trembling with fear. At the front, Oxzy noticed everyone's attention fixed on a spot a few feet from the door.
The hero turned his head, watching silently as the villain came into view—along with the boy, Felix. Pierce's back was turned to the door; no one noticed it opening.
This gave the hero an advantage, though all attention remained fixed on the villain. It was clear why Pierce's hands were covered in blood. Large shoeprints trailed behind him, and a dark haze of dust surrounded his form. His entire demeanor was grim and dangerous. Even without seeing his face, Oxzy could tell exactly how he looked from the expressions on the men's faces.
The hero scanned the room—dark, except for a single yellow light at its center. His body jolted slightly as he recognized the group of men who had...
Oxzy gripped the door tightly, his body trembling. He was about to leave; seeing them was too much for his emotions to bear.
"B-Brother, business? Right now?" Felix spoke with a touch of fear, shaking his head as if to steady his thoughts. "The station's coming any minute. We can handle it later, of course—I have a lot to show you—"
"Not your 'childish' business." Pierce shook his head, a tight smile on his face as he walked forward, his footsteps echoing in everyone's ears. "The video of Oxzy. I want to have a chat about it..."
Felix flinched, taken aback by the sudden shift in his brother's words. He glanced around, noticing some of the men relax. It must be good news, then—the villain wanted to discuss the video. That was exactly why Felix had arrived early today. This was his chance.
A burst of hope rose in Felix's chest. He stepped forward, forgetting his earlier dread at Pierce's demeanor, hands outstretched as he approached his brother. "Yes! The video—you saw it, right?"
Pierce gazed at him with evident confusion.
Felix laughed lightly. "Of course you did. I knew you'd like it—that damn hero deserved to be fucked like the animal he is." He laughed loudly, drawing a few chuckles from the men forming the circle.
"Huh," Pierce sighed, looking up at the warehouse roof.
With no emotion visible on his brother's face, Felix felt a bit unsettled. Still, he kept his confidence up, waving his men back to work as his thoughts wandered. "It's something I was hoping to save for you. I wanted you to have that pleasure yourself, but my men and I couldn't help ourselves."
The hero's breath hitched. He felt disgusted to be spoken about this way—dehumanizing, even for someone who wasn't entirely human. It still stung to be reduced to an object. He meant to leave, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Pierce. The fallen villain—he found himself hoping Pierce would say something. Why? Why did he want him to respond?
Leave. Leave now.
Pierce suddenly let out a low laugh, turning to face Felix. "You really should learn to control yourselves." His words were meant for everyone, and the remaining men in the warehouse turned toward him.
Felix took an unconscious step back. "Yeah—I said I was sorry—"
"I think you have a problem, Felix. You assume too quickly." Pierce shook his head. "You're so quick to assume shit. You think I'd want this? Am I really that fucked up to you?"
"N-No, brother, that's not what I meant, you know I—"
"I didn't want anyone else to do that to him." Pierce stepped forward, eyeing Felix, who stood stiff as a board. "Only I have the privilege of breaking the hero at his worst. But you and your men took that away from me." The villain shook his head, now a foot from his younger brother, glaring at him. "So tell me—why would I thank you?"
Felix stepped back, trying to process what he'd just heard. Of course Pierce would thank him—why wouldn't he?
"You hate the hero—"
"I do. But you don't." Pierce cut him off, advancing as the smaller man retreated into his own gang. "You have no real reason to do this—it serves no purpose for you. The fact that you thought I'd thank you angers me almost as much as your personality does. The way you went about it—I have no reason to thank you..."
Felix let out a nervous chuckle, struggling to understand. Some part of him still clung to the belief that his brother was thanking him. The evil man had something on him—he did what he wanted to do. So why wasn't he grateful?
"Pierce—brother, that's where the rest of my plan comes in. The hero—you can do whatever you want to him once we lure him back here. Drug him again; he'll be defenseless!"
"What's the fun in that?" Pierce let out a sarcastic sigh.
Felix shook his head as his men behind him tensed. Some backed away, while others loyal to him and the gang stepped forward. They watched as the villain cornered the younger brother, forcing him back with nowhere to go. On edge, they gripped their weapons with trembling hands.
"I don't feel the need for you anymore. That whole poison scheme is worthless—it can't do a thing for you now, can it?" Pierce laughed, taking another step forward as his younger brother dropped to the ground. "I told you, I have business to attend to..."
Felix's men surged forward, but before they could act, their leader threw out a hand. "I told you—no one goes against my brother!" He looked up at Pierce, who wore a dangerous smile. "I did it for you. Even if it was wrong, I did it for you, brother."
"I never asked you to."
Felix swallowed, casting his eyes down, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He no longer knew what to expect—all he wanted was for his brother to accept him, to be proud of him.
"I have to make everyone who touched him pay. If anyone gets in my way, I'll simply return the favor." Pierce stretched out his arms, and the room flinched as one. His words struck them all in the chest, sending a wave of hesitation through the crowd.
The hero, still at the doorway, took in the scene. It was strange—not just hearing the villain speak about him this way, but witnessing such extreme reactions. He really does radiate fear like a bullet.
There were far more men than Pierce alone, enough to overpower him through sheer numbers. But the fear—the undeniable proof of what Pierce was capable of—made them hesitate, made them afraid to even try. These drug dealers, murderers, and other hardened criminals were terrified. The villain didn't need to do much to provoke that fear; his words alone were enough.
Oxzy swallowed, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. He shouldn't feel this way about the man, yet he couldn't help himself. His body had changed because of the evil man beside him.
What was he thinking? What was he feeling? It was as if he were going almost as mad as the villain himself.
The hero caught movement from the corner of his eye and focused on a tall man within the group. The man's gun was rising, shaking in his tight grip as he aimed it at Pierce.
Oxzy glanced toward the villain—the younger brother nearly clinging to his legs, desperate pleas spilling from his lips. Pierce listened with a faint expression of annoyance, seemingly unaware of the man shifting within the crowd.
The man stood close to the door, in full view of the silently watching hero. Oxzy saw him raise the gun further. Even without orders from their leader to kill the villain, their lives were clearly in danger.
The man understood that if Pierce was there to kill those responsible for what had happened to the hero, he would be among them. The hero recognized him faintly, his vision clouding with blackness as old memories surged to take control.
Maybe it was his racing thoughts. Maybe it was the blankness swallowing his vision, stripping him of all sense of reality. Whatever it was, his grip on sanity slipped as his body moved on its own.
The gun rose. The hero lunged forward, hand outstretched.
A gunshot rang through the warehouse.