A/N Ok, I have been meaning to do this fic for a LONG time, ever since I first saw the Osmosis Jones movie, but I forgot about it XD I actually remembered it while talking to my best mate over the phone, which proved to be a rather interesting conversation XD Ok, enough blabbing, more typing, got it.

I do not own Osmosis Jones, if I did Thrax wouldn't have died. I do however own my smexy OC.

Mood: Indifferent (will change as soon as I get up for my caffeine)

Listening to: Black Betty by Spiderbait (Awesome song!)

Summary: Thrax gets 'disappeared' by a nop notch Mafia Boss. Very poorly. He get's thrown into a Meat Locker to die. Inside, he finds something that will change his life forever. Now, if only the cute little Muerte Rojo would stop disappearing on him.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, bloodshed, death, nudity, YAOI, possible lemons, definitely some lime, YAOI, a little bit of OOC'ness for some and non-cannon events. This is kind of a prelude to Frank so yeah, have fun! Oh and YAOI! Seeing as no one ever reads warnings I figured I repeat myself. THIS CONTAINS YAOI, SLASH, MANxMAN AND SAME SEX PAIRINGS! If you missed that, or don't know what it means... Then you fail at life.

Now, since there is no real name for what kind of Virus Thrax is, I'll be calling his kind 'El Muerte Rojo', or 'Muerte Rojo' as that is what he is dubbed in the movie.

For the record, 'El Muerte Rojo' means The Red Death in...Spanish I think? Either way, there won't always be an 'El' in front of Muerta Rojo all the time, so it's just Red Death. Okies?

. . . .

Freezer Burn

. . . .

Prognosis 1:

Deals, Virus' and a Freezer

The City of Jason, a rather dank, run down sort of place, which wasn't unusual in itself, as poor health was common amongst the humans these days. People were just too lazy or too busy to take care of themselves properly lately. In truth though, it only made his job easier, but if there was one thing Thrax despised, it was the easy road. He was the type of Virus who loved a challenge, something to get his blood pumping, to give him a rush, something to make him sweat and have to actually work. But no, this City, just like the last four were unhealthy, easily taken down.

Another cake walk.

Thrax was annoyed.

He was a deadly Virus, he was El Muerte Rojo for pities sake!

But alas, if it meant getting his name in the medical books, he didn't care. He was determined to reach his goal, nothing would stop him, not the Immunities, not some second rate Germ mafia, and most definitely not his own pride. He'd take out the easy ones, if only to keep moving. He'd find his big score one day, and oh what a score it would be!

Smirking to himself, Thrax swaggered through the streets of Jason, somewhere in the left thigh, looking for some canon fodder to throw at the Immunities while he made his way to the Hypothalamus. He had heard from somewhere along the grape vine that there was a large club located in the left thigh, where the Germs of Jason liked to fester.

He paused along the road as he picked out a flashing neon sign through a narrow alley. He made his way through the dank and smelly alley and found the entrance to his destination. The Scab, a shabby looking place to be merciful. Thrax resisted the urge to snort at the run down place and made his way to the door, where he was promptly shoved back by a Germ three times his size.

"Bea' it punk." the Bounce barked as he folded his meaty arms over his rather mishappen torso. Thrax raised a none existant brow at the Germ and used his claws to comb his dreadlocks back from where they had fallen into his face at the sudden shove.

"Punk?" He repeated, looking unimpressed. The bouncer blinked down at him with a sickly mud brown eye and growled.

"Didn' yeh ear' me punk? I said bea' it!"

Thrax gave into the urge to roll his eyes, which seemed to piss the grammar challenged bouncer off more. "Baby, do yourself a favor and step aside, or things could get...messy." he said, leering slightly. The Germ looked taken aback for a moment, before scoffing loudly.

"Wha' are yeh gonna do, punk? Scratch meh with yer lil claw?" he asked condesendingly. Thrax's lips curled into a perverted smirk.

"Baby, that's exactly what I'm going to do." and with that, his arm moved and a streak of neon orange was all the bouncer saw before his over sized body exploded in pain and he screamed while falling backwards, scrabbling at his chest, which had a shallow scratch down the center, which had begun bubbling violently as flames burst from his veins.

Thrax ignored the idiotic germs dying screams and stepped over his thrashing body, pushing the narrow door open to enter. Inside was just as rundown as it was outside, and Thrax wasn't impressed as he waved a cloud of smoke out of his face with a slight grimace. The ground under his feet vibrated as he made his way deeper into the building, where he came across a solid door. He pushed it open easily, and winced as he was suddenly deafened by a loud blast of club music. He ignored the ringing in his poor ears and moved across the club, shoving dancing germs out of his way as he made his way towards the back. He glared balefully at any she-germs or she-virus's that got to close to his person and beheaded a bold Stomach Virus that propositioned him while trying to wrap himself around his waist.

'Pathetic, annoying pests.' He thought as he swatted yet another drunk and overly bold germ. He ignored the flashing lights, the pounding music and the heavy cloud of smoke that seemed to be a permanent addition to the building. Finally, after by passing the dance floor, bar and dining area (The condition of everything, including the patrons was still disgusting) he made his way to the back. Poisonous gold on yellow eyes scanned the area, spotting a door easily in the dim lighting. He smirked and made his way to the door, the claws on his left hand absently fidgeting with the black and indigo Chain wrapped around his wrist and tangled in his claws.

He reached the door, taking note of the lack of guards while reaching up to bang on the doors surface. He waited for exactly three seconds before the door was yanked open by yet another beefy looking germ, no Virus, this one had three eyes and walked on four legs while one of this hands held a gun to his face. He blinked down at the gun that was currently pressed against the flat surface of his face where his scent pits (Nose for the daft) were, then returned his poisonous gaze to the virus at the other end of it.

"Hello to you too." he said dryly as the virus merely raised a brow at him.

"What do you want?" he asked smartly, which drew a surprised blink from Thrax.

'An educated germ? My my, what are the odds?' He thought ironically. The virus in front of him huffed in impatience.

"I won't ask you again man." he said, obviously getting annoyed with his question going unanswered. Thrax sighed and raised a clawed hand to push the gun out of his face, its wielder allowing it.

"I want to speak with your boss." he answered tonelessly. The virus in front of him raised his brow again, then shrugged.

"Alright, but try anything stupid and you won't be leaving here unscathed, or at all." he said, and with that ominous threat he stepped aside and allowed the tall red virus through. Thrax entered the room, noticing instantly that it was in much better condition than the rest of the building. The air wasn't clouded by smoke for one, and he could smell mint somewhere in the room. He examined every inch of the large'ish room with a critical eye, taking in the corners, the wall length stained glass window and the prim looking virus seated behind a rather expensive looking desk.

Thrax felt amusement bubble up as he eyed the apparent Boss behind his desk, smoking a rather odd smelling cigar as he stroked the most freaky looking animal he'd ever seen, which was perched on his lap. He felt the door virus move from behind him and walk to stand behind and to the right of his boss, arms folded in front of him like some top notch security guard. Looking around again, Thrax eyed every security guard he saw in the room. There were seven in total, and all were well dressed, all held themselves stiffly as they eyed him in return, and Thrax actually felt slightly less confident in what was to take place. He'd met and killed all kinds of mafia bosses in his life time, but never had he come across one this well off. He was used to facing stupid, slow and big germs. These guys were all virus', low level yes, but still dangerous enough together to pose a threat. He'd have to tread carefully here on out.

He inwardly smirked.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a walk in the park after all.

"Hello gentlemen." He greeted as he stopped to stand in front of the big desk. The Virus behind it raised a brow at him, and Thrax watched as he leaned forward in his leather chair/throne to rest his elbows on the table and thread his fingers together.

"Get on with it boy." Said the Vvirus boss as he eyed him sternly. Thrax was slightly offended by the look, which was, against his best efforts making him feel like an imature child. He hated guys like this. Condescending bastards, even if he was one himself most of the time.

"I need some germs for a heist in the Brain." He said tartly, watching as the greenish coloured virus in front of him quirked his lips into a mocking smirk.

"Do you now?" he asked sarcastically. Thrax felt a tick develop on his forehead.

"I do, will you give them to me?" he hated asking, but this guy was too dangerous to order around and threaten right now, but if push came to shove, he'd burn this place to the ground with everyone and everything in it. The boss, as if sensing his thoughts threw back his large head and laughed. The weird looking creature on his lap jumped off at the sudden noise its master was making and scuttled off to who knew where for peace. Thrax inwardly bristled, while outwardly he appeared unaffected and calm. His claw twitched at his side, and he itched to drive its sharp point into this fat bastards head and watch as he writhed and burned.

Then, the laughter stopped and the virus in front of him waved his six fingered hand, which was adorned in colourful bulky rings. "Your funny, I'll give you that, now, the doors that way." he said, pointing to the door. Thrax felt his lip curl upwards into a snarl, but he fought it down and cleared his throat.

"I'll only ask once more." he said, voice dangerously low. The boss blinked, then growled.

"You threatening me, punk?" he hissed. Thrax inwardly wondered what the hell was up with everyone calling him a punk. He leered.

"I am." he purred, his claw burning to life as he raised it to drag along the virus' desk, leaving a blistering red crevice in its wake. The boss suddenly sat back in his seat and smiled nastily at him. Then he clicked his fingers.

Thrax tensed when he felt his arms being seized and forced his body to remain still, even as every instinct in his body howled at him to struggle out of their hold and tear them apart.

"You, my boy, are done here." The boss said as he stood and folded his arms behind his back, cigar still in his mouth. Thrax snorted.

"What are you ging to do, bury me?" he asked blithely. The boss turned back to eye Thrax, who was watching him expressionlessly. The virus suddenly chuckled and bobbed a finger at him.

"Oh no, I'm not going to bury you. You see, I know for a fact that you'll just dig yourself out. I've dealt with one just like you before." He said, smirking nastily. Thrax felt himself tense even further, his curiosity tickled.

"Oh?" he prompted. The boss chuckled again.

"Oh yes, I'd put money on you two being of the exact same strain, hell, maybe even related. He too came in here asking for some of my men for a hit up in the Brain. I'll admit he nearly had me bought, but then I figured out what he was up to, and what he had in mind would have been bad business for me you see, as killing Jason would inevitabley kill my whole operation. So I had him buried." He continued, waving his cigar around. "Little shit popped back in not two hours later dogging for my head. So, I did some thinking while I ran for my life. I am no fighter you see, and he took a few of my men out during his little tantrum. You lot kill with a Fever, correct? You destabilize the Hypothalamus and naturally destroy the bodies only means to keep itself from cooking from the inside out. Nasty little fuckers aren't you?" he said airily. He turned back to Thrax and smiled, only it held no warmth, it was purely malicious. "So I figured your bodies run at a higher temp then the average virus. Do you want to know what I found?" He asked, smile still in place.

Thrax eyed him warily, half of him not buying the story while the other half actually dreading the answer.

"I found your weakness, and with that weakness, I put that little shit in his place." he said smugly. Thrax blinked. Weakness?

'Potentially bad, but still laughable.' He thought, shifting slightly. The boss snorted as he watched him.

"You don't believe me?" He asked, both surprised and amused. Thrax shrugged gracefully.

"Not really. For three reasons. One, my kind are rare. I don't mean one in five baby, I mean one in five hundred thousand. Two, we're not stupid, and three?" He glanced at the guards still latched onto his arms, then back at the over confident virus boss. "I don't like you." he said simply, before retching himself easily from the guards grip and swinging his glowing claw in their direction, disemboweling both of them while three others charged him. He ducked under a punch and bent forward under a kick while simultaneously slicing his claw through a pair of legs, drawing a pained shriek as he span, drawing himself up and lashing out with his foot while avoiding another punch.

A minute later five men were down with four more circling him. The virus in charge raised a brow.

"What is it with you guys? Always killing my best men." he said moodily as he pulled a gun from a draw in his desk.

Thrax sidestepped a sloppy tackle and kicked another one in the face. He drew back his claw to slice open another's chest when a sharp retort echoed through the room and a sharp pain suddenly exploded through the back of his shoulder. He stumbled forward with a gasp and curse, and growled when strong arms grabbed him while another set was dedicated to holding his glowing claw, arm and all away from his body and anyone else's. He snarled as he was forced to face the virus boss (whose name he still didn't know) who held a smoking gun loosely in his hand.

"Tut tut tut. I paid good money for those men." He said stonily. Thrax drew his lips back, giving the man a sharp toothed snarl as he tried to remove his arm from the door virus' hold. The boss virus suddenly waved his hand to the side of the room, where a corner screen hid a side door. "Put him in the Locker." he said dismissively. Thrax blinked. What was the Locker? He didn't get to ask as he was suddenly manhandled across the room and through the door, which led into a small dark hallway with a large iron door at the end. Thrax eyed the triple dead bolt with annoyance as he was shoved into the wall while door-man stepped forward with a set of keys and set about unlocking the rather intimidating door. Thrax figured he could burn his way out quite easily in a matter of minutes, an hour at most. The door was finally heaved open and Thrax shuddered as he was hit with a blast of freezing cold air.

'Shit.' He thought, alarmed as he was dragged towards the fucking MEAT LOCKER of all things! So maybe the virus had been right when saying he had found Thrax' weakness. His kind did not do well with cold. If it was as cold in there as he thought he'd have to hurry in trying to escape, or he'd be comatose or dead in a few hours. He struggled as he was hauled closer to the locker, but cursed loudly as someone punched the bullet wound in the back of his shoulder, the pain knocking him off balance and allowing them to throw him face first into the cold room.

He hit the smooth metal floor with a noisy thud that echoed around the small room, laying with his face pressed onto its surface. The first thought to come to mind as his brain caught up with his body was COLD! He shoved himself from the floor and stood so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash as he scrubbed at the side of his face, the side that had connected with the practically frozen floor. He winced as the action pulled on his wound, and he shuddered as he felt the blood running down his back rapidly cool. He could see his breath very clearly as he felt his teeth start to chatter.

'Shit, its colder in here than I thought it would be.' He thought angrily as he whirled on the door that had closed behind him when he hit the floor. He glared death at it as his claw lit up dangerously, causing steam to erupt around his hand as he raised his claw and moved to stab it into the door in the spot he had seen the dead bolts on the other side. He paused just as the tip of his claw hissed against the frozen metal however as he spied melted iron and scorch marks along the hinges of the door. He frowned and stepped closer, using his still hot claw to defrost the ice that had accumulated over the melted iron. He blinked in astonishment as the multiple gashes in the hinges, framed by melted iron and black scorch marks. It looked like someone had taken to them with a blowtorch. He eyed his own claw. Or...

He turned, eyes scanning the small, but admittedly cluttered room. There were empty metal racks and shelves strewn across the floor, (no meat, thank god), as if someone had torn the place apart in a fit of anger or desperation. He frowned and stepped around an overturned rack, ignoring the way his body trembled from the cold and his head pounded from the pain in his body. He kicked a tray out of his path and rested a hand on another large rack. He peered around the rack as he passed it, but froze* midstep as his keen eyes picked out a black smudge/form? on the floor. Suddenly the pompous virus' story popped into his head and he shoved the rack aside, allowing more of the poor light to illuminate the unmoving smudge.

Thrax blinked in shock as his brain finally registered what his eyes were telling it and felt his mouth drop open. The smudge on the floor wasn't a smudge in the shadows anymore. It was a comatose/unconscious/dead Muerta Rojo. A young Muerte Rojo, young enough to barely be overly contagious, strong, yes, but deadly? Not so much yet. Thrax stepped forward and knelt down at the younger virus' side and reached out to poke him with his claw. No response. His frown deepened as he reached further and pulled him from his side and onto his back. He watched in grief as his body flopped over and his head lolled to the side. Thrax let out a breath through clenched teeth, thoroughly enraged. That pompous, smug, ugly bastard of a virus was going to die.

Swallowing his rage for now Thrax slipped an arm under the unmoving Muerte Rojo's shoulders and knees and picked him up bridal style. The kid was unnaturally cold in his arms as he moved over to the light near the front of the locker. He stopped next to the door and gently lowered the weight in his arms to the cold ground. He wasn't going to leave one of his so rare kin behind in this place, even if he was dead.

Taking a moment to take in the others appearance Thrax was surprised. He was young, yes, but nearly fully matured. He would have been just a hand shorter than Thrax himself if he was standing, and his dreads were uncommonly long, stopping at the small of his back and a colour closer to black then purple. His skin, which was tinged blue from the cold looked to have once been a shade or two lighter then Thrax's, and more of an orange then crimson. He had the signature claw on his right hand, which was disturbingly damaged from his now obvious escape attempts. He was clad in a pair of tight leather pants that disappeared into knee high combat boots with metal clasps. A plain black belt with a stylized buckle glinted in the dim lighting, and Thrax raised a non existent brow at the little red and silver skull with sharp fangs. His torso was covered by a plain black V-neck shirt, which was mostly covered by a black leather jacket. Thrax blinked and pushed a few dark dreadlocks from the others face, a single claw hooking into an odd little band that was tied around a single dread, its bright blue colouring a stark contrast to the rest of him. On the end of the band was a little silver charm of a dragon in flight.

Oddly he found himself wondering what colour his eyes had been.

Thrax finished his staring and sighed before moving to stand and continue his escape attempt. He paused from standing, however as he noticed a steady blue glow from under the other virus' leather jacket colour. Curious yet again, Thrax knelt back down and pulled the collar aside with his claw, what he found had a surprised chuckle escaping his throat. A Hypothalamus Chain was wrapped around his neck. It was a long Chain, it had to be to wrap around his neck so many times, but it only had six or seven glowing indigo beads in it. The kid couldn't have been classified as a Deadly Virus yet at such an age, yet he still managed to rack up a score. Thrax was impressed and disappointed all at once. Impressed, because the kid must have been good, smart, and disappointed because his talent was now wasted.

His rage renewed Thrax stood and stabbed his claw forward, allowing its orange glow to sink into the iron door. He'd get out and avenge his kin.

Because when big daddy Thrax got angry, well...

They didn't call him the Red Death for nothing.

It took him twenty minutes to melt through all three dead bolts, which just had to be a record. He retched open the door and groaned in relief as he was greeted with a blast of hot (compared to the freezer) air. Glancing down at the younger male, Thrax quickly but gently picked him up bridal style once more before striding/staggering out of the freezing room. When he was well away from the cold, but still hidden in the hall, he placed his load down on the floor and stood again, ready to kick some ass.

Unfortunately, the big boss virus was gone, he'd left to see his son or something somewhere in the Elbow, but most of his men were still there, and Thrax butchered every one of them in his rage. It would have taken him maybe ten minutes to sniff out the cowards to finish them off, and by then the building was empty, the patrons having fled in terror as he killed every guard he could find.

But none of that compared to the shock he got when he returned to the now cold hall to retrieve the younger Muerte Rojo another ten minutes later.

The body was gone...

. . . .
. . . .

A/N DONE! Tell me what you think please, this is my first ever Osmosis Jones fic! That I've posted anyway XD REVIEW!

* Pardon the pun, I couldn't resist!

Next chapter should pop up real soon, cuz I'm gonna start it now...might even be a double post, but I'm not sure!

NOTE: This fic is not BETA'd. I did a quick spell check and thats it. I will take anyone who wants to BETA this story. I already have a BETA but I lost her email and forgot her pen name T.T