4

So it happened to be that the "event" former student council president, Strawberry Milk, mentioned earlier was in reference to a far grander scheme:
In which she would have branched out to establish a number of milk "farms" in public areas, where multiple people were known to gather for easy pickings.
Then she would proceed to distribute her special breast milk for consumption, taking over practically all of Daten's citizens and the dairy market.
"And the world too, no doubt." Socks said musing.
"Of course," Vanilla said, laughing, then wincing from the pain that caused him.
The sinister ghost-made machine did not disappear or dematerialize straight away—as Socks suspected it should have done after Strawberry Milk's defeat.
As Socks made the point to inspect it once more, it turned out that the machine was a hell of a lot bigger as a whole, with the means of mobility on spindly, spidery legs.
Obviously, it would have had to be removed from school premises, which in itself would have been a painstakingly long project for even two bona fide angelic brothers to do, let alone a team of professionals; Heaven forbid there is an organization of experts on "Demonic Milking Machines and Their Dis assembly and Removal from School Properties".
And if they did call in a professional clean-up crew, there's no doubt that someone would try and report it to the masses, garnering unnecessary, unwanted attention, and likely causing the school to shut down.
Neither Boxer nor Socks were equipped to handle any legal ramifications, and be that as they are not totally bound to this Earth, it's safe to assume that earthly laws do not [strictly] apply to them by any stretch of the imagination.
Although, Socks, being ever curious and inquisitive, humored the idea of Boxer in a court of law, facing life sentences out the ass for all the crimes he's surely committed throughout his unnaturally long life.

As Boxer occupied himself with the task of pleasing four girls at once, Socks contemplated this recent turn of events.
Since it had been their first ghost, he couldn't have possibly expected anything as perplexingly absurd as this.
The plan was to find and eradicate the ghost as soon as possible, which, in theory, shouldn't have taken more than the whole damn day.
Inexperienced though they were, they were still competent fighters. Sure enough, they took Strawberry out with little difficulty.
But it was her plotting, and the care in which she took to setting up such an advanced operation, that would have been all the more large in scale had Socks and Boxer not intervened, that made it all the worse for the boys, and by extension the whole school. Their intervention caused Strawberry to get anxious and she made the fatal error of trying to hurry her project.
Socks could have only imagined how bad it could have gotten... .
To make matters even worse, Socks had already made plans in advance to update his blog, in which he cataloged the confectioneries that tickled and satisfied his sweet tooth the most.
Sweets that ranged from simple candy bars, to masterful confectionery artwork of foreign origins; decorative, and built upon meticulously by expert hands to please the eyes as well as the taste buds!
Those delicious, sugary objects of fantasy, made to tingle the very tongues of royalty!
"You all right there, Socks?" Nail nudged him in the side. "You're drooling."
"Huh? What? Yes. Yes, of course!" Socks lowered his head and smiled impishly. "I was, well, never mind. Anyway! It's probably for the best if we call the authorities in on this one. What happened to the staff while this was going on?"
"Drenched in breast milk and passed out." Nail said with a surprisingly straight-face.
"That's unfortunate," Socks said, forcing himself to sound the slightest bit sorry. "Urn foresaw it, they'll have to close down the school while they get this beast out of here."
Socks gestured to the basin and its flaccid tubes with his thumb.
"Mm," Vanilla nodded in acknowledgement, then glanced away, seeming distracted.
"Your buddy seems to be enjoying himself." Vanilla groaned, willing himself to ignore the moans and musk of sex in the background.
"Excuse him, he was born butt-first as an infant." Socks groaned alongside him, rubbing at his temples in irritation.
"I don't like what he's doing," Vanilla stated with a subtle twitch of his eye. "And if he so much as looks at Mocha—! Well he ought to be glad I can't walk straight right now."
"You really do seem to care for your cousin," Socks glanced at her as she slept beside them.
She only vaguely resembled her cousin, with shaggy, dusty hair, yet disconcertingly pale skin.
Though her eyes were closed now, Socks saw, from earlier when Vanilla first introduced them, that she had cataracts in her eyes.
This suggested that she may have been blind.
"Yeah I guess," Vanilla allowed himself something of a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "She can get along well by herself. She's very resourceful, but sometimes... I dunno, I guess I worry."
Socks suspected that there may have been a little bit more to that story, but decided not to pry.
"What about you and Almond, Nail?" Socks couldn't help but grin a bit teasingly, and wider when he saw Nail blush.
Almond was a porky boy, with chestnut-brown hair, and the sweetest smile and dimples Socks had ever seen.
Almond was especially grateful for Boxer and Socks's help, and blushed at the concern Nail had shown for him throughout the ordeal.
"Ye—ah, we were friends since Kindergarten," Nail rubbed his arm. "That's it!"
That was so obviously not just it, but Socks left him alone out of courtesy.

The students that felt well enough went on their way out of the gymnasium, to either get their cellphones and call their parents, or rouse the sleeping faculty.
Vanilla was left slouching on the stands, sighing.
Nail went around tending to the others that weren't in fit condition to move just yet.
Knickers saw to Mint, Blackberry, and the aforementioned Page.
The concern she expressed for them seemed as a surprise to them, but was very well appreciated.
Boxer was taking a break from his earlier rutting, but he seemed tense and uneasy, and Socks saw why as he spotted Cocoa kneeling not too far away from him, seeming forlorn herself.
Socks couldn't help but laugh at his brother's misfortune, but he chose to sit beside Vanilla instead of baiting the poor thing.
"Earlier you said you couldn't bring yourself to care about Mocha," he said. "Why did you lie like that?"
"...I wasn't lying." Vanilla closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
"But it was clear you did care for her. I don't understand."
He really didn't, and he felt like a fool for it.
He didn't like that feeling at all.
"When I heard that she was gone I didn't feel one way or the other about it," Vanilla sat himself up as best he could. "I thought that I should have, so I tried making myself care. Frankly I don't understand how I could not. I really do want to care—I mean we're family!—and so I figured if I said it enough times, to myself and others, I'd convince myself that it was for real."
"You're trying to convince yourself that you care for your family?"
"...Basically," Vanilla turned to look at Socks. "Listen, I don't want you to think I'm strange! Mocha and I only see each other at school, and she's in a different grade than I am. So we don't even see much of each other, even when we can. There are times where I even forget she exists, and I have to be reminded she does."
"I have no idea how that feels, seeing as how Boxer and I live, and are constantly together; we always have been." Socks didn't seem too happy about that fact.
But what if it wasn't like that? Socks couldn't help but wonder.
"I envy you," Vanilla said. "I was born an only child, and my family is rather estranged. I only know about more distant relatives because I've been told about them. My parents showed me the pictures, but I can't match names to faces, let alone remember where they stand on the family tree. They're... nothing to me."

"You probably don't give a damn," Vanilla cut across Socks as the latter opened his mouth to protest. "It's all right, I'm not asking you to. I just... wanted to tell someone."
"You haven't told any of your friends?"
"No. If I had, well, I'd risk losing them, right?"
"I don't know," Socks stared out over the crowd. "They all seem pretty committed to each other."
Vanilla followed Socks's gaze.
He saw some of those he knew he cared dearly for; those he didn't even know, and those he hated, and those that were hated by others.
And yet, here they all were, tending to each other's wounds and voicing their concerns.
"...Maybe."
Socks could only see half of what Vanilla was seeing, and he felt sorry for it... .

...

"Why didn't ya'll call and tell me it was this damned serious!" Suspender yelled, spraying spittle as she did on the boys faces. "And where the hell is Mink!? I had to run all the way out here in high heels, down that motherfuckin' slope!"
"Our bad," Boxer and Socks said in unison, lamely.
"Is that your mom?" Knickers asked, peeking out from behind Boxer.
Boxer and Socks glanced this way or that, forcing smiles and thinking that she (Suspender) might as well have been their mother.
"...What a lovely little lady," Suspender's demeanor made a 180 flip, and changed from Strong Independent Woman, to Kind, Caring Mammy.
It tended to do so.
"Oh, Boxer what's her name?"
"What're you askin' me for?" Boxer snapped all of a sudden.
"It's you she's taking refuge under; I just assumed ya'll were intimate. Like every other woman you come across in your peripherals."
"It's, uh, um..." Boxer scratched his head, as if he'd totally forgotten.
"Knickers." She said through a pout.
"Yeah, that's it."
"Hello, Knickers. My name is Suspender, I'm the priestess of Daten church. Feel free to drop by sometime and visit." Suspender winked, causing Knickers to shiver.
"Boys!" Suspender hollered at the top of her lungs, making nearly everyone within earshot jump. "We're goin' home. Find wherever the hell Mink is and pick me up out front!"
With that, Suspender took her leave of the gymnasium.
"I say we grab Mink and leave without her." Boxer murmured.
"I'd be inclined to agree with you, but she's just going to find us and leave our asses sore for it." Socks sighed.
"Um..." Knickers reached out to touch Boxer's shoulder.
"What?"
"Er, never mind." She turned the opposite direction, shrugging her Proton Backpack up higher on her shoulders and beginning to walk toward the exit.
"... Ginger," Socks said suddenly. "Are you walking home?"
"Huh?" Knickers turned back to face him. "Yeah, I don't live too far from the school, so it's okay."
"We'll give you a ride." Socks stated matter-of-fact.
"Who the hell is 'we'?" Boxers demanded in open protest.
"'We' as in 'me and you' shit-for-brains."
"I object!"
"You think I'm going to heed any of your objections when you ignore mine?" Socks snorted. "Do it, or I'll let word spread of your Trap-Humping ways."
Having been reminded of that, Boxers was readily more compliant.

Boxer drove Knickers part-way to her apartment. She told them that she'd rather walk the rest of the way, partially out of embarrassment.
She thanked the boys and Suspender for giving her a ride and left.
Boxer swerved and raced back up Celetubby Hill, wanting nothing more than to be home, and sleep.
It had been a long day, and a lot has happened.
He felt he deserved the rest.

Once Boxer had gotten in bed, it seemed that not even a howler monkey could wake him up.
He slept well into the afternoon the next day, and when he awoke, things were unusually quiet.
Boxer climbed down the steps, one at a time. He hadn't any plans for the day, and he was just now waking up anyway.
The only reason he got out of bed now was because of his bladder, and then his stomach.
Now that he was awake he couldn't see himself going back to bed now.
He had his breakfast and went to the front room to watch TV, finding that Socks was already there.
To Boxer's surprise, Socks was eating parfait while surfing the web on his laptop.
"Aren't you afraid that that was made with human breast milk or somethin'?" Boxer asked, taking a seat beside his brother, finding the remote and flipping through the channels idly.
"I've come to realize that it isn't really that big of a deal, after all, human breast milk was intended for humans anyway, and our physiology is astonishingly similar... Who'd've thunk it?" Socks said airily. "It's more a wonder why they rely so heavily on cattle—or goat, or sheep milk—but it really makes no difference. I see neither enhancing the taste, and it already tastes damn (he paused to take a bite to further emphasize his point) good!"
"That's sick, man," Boxer face contorted to that of disgust.
"Of course, I always have the option of ordering from Heaven, but unfortunately, Suspender won't let me spend the very little coin we have for that." Socks seemed distraught about this, because in all honesty, the sweets from Heaven were [relatively speaking] unmatched in flavor and sweetness.
But Suspender would no doubt give him another two-hour-long lecture on wise spending habits if he tried.
"So what're you doin' now?"
Boxer leaned in to see the screen.
"Aren't you a nosy bastard today?" Socks snorted. "I just finished updating my blog; I'm in Skype chat with Vanilla."
"You chat?" Boxer raised an eyebrow.
"I do now."
"Right..."
Boxer saw it perfectly natural to read the chat log, as Socks took another spoonful of his parfait.
He saw that Vanilla had invited one or two other friends during the chat session, but they've left now.
They weren't talking about anything important, aside from recent events that caused the school to close until further notice.
Then Boxer saw that Cocoa had been mentioned.
"Are you finished digging in other people's business, asshole?" Socks said in a casual tone.
"Yeah," he leaned back and directed his attention back to the TV.
"I don't suppose you keep track of the whores you fuck?" Socks asked at length.
"... A few," Boxer admitted. "They were the really good ones."
"I'm surprised you're capable of gauging any quality in the affair," Socks turned up his nose. "I always thought that if it simply had a vagina, it was vulnerable."
"Goddammit, I have standards!"
Boxer's face turned brilliant red as Socks laughed boisterously, to the point where there were tears in his eyes.
"Really, brother you expect me to believe that tripe?"
"Why the hell did you ask anyway?"
"I was curious. Because it seems to me that you find it peculiar that I'm chatting with Vanilla."
"Well yeah, it is! Besides, I'm the older brother. I gotta look out for you, and I can be all up in your business if I want to. It's practically mine anyway."
"Who told you nonsense like that? Obviously you couldn't have thought of it on your own. But then, what I want to know is why you're all of a sudden committing to such a thing. Heaven knows you never cared beforehand." Socks inclined his head at a peculiar angle as he was talking, then paused.
Boxer raised a questioning eyebrow at him, until he righted himself and, calmly, reached to tuck wayward strands of his hair out of the way.
"...You really ought-a get that sorted," Boxer turned up his nose in disgust.
He really wanted to make a comeback to what Socks had just said, but he couldn't think of one.
So the rule was to change the subject, clearly!
"Don't come crying to me when your bitch-ass gets mistaken for a girl by some sweaty-ass loser tryin' to booty-rape you."
Chuck sauntered into the living room at that moment, his attention was drawn, almost immediately, to Socks's half-finished parfait treat.
He lunged himself forward at it, tongue outstretched and licking.
Just as he was about to reach his prize, his advance was ground to a halt by a spoon, plunged straight into his cranium, and scooping at his grey matter.
"CHUCK!" He cried in what could have only been purest agony.
Socks chose to ignore him, turning and typing, apparently arranging a get-together with Vanilla and his friends.
"Finally getting out more?" Boxer said and grinned.
"I've gone out many times."
"Really now? What do you do when you go out?"
"None of your sticky beeswax!" Socks, in a fit, threw his spoon at Boxer's head to sort him out.
"Ow! Ew! Goddammit!"
In all honesty, Boxer was surprised, and perhaps even a little happy that his anti-social brother was finally making friends.
Although Socks readily denies any claim that he was anti-social, Boxer really couldn't see Socks associating himself with anyone he didn't arrogantly deem worthy of his time.
He had that sort of superiority complex that was so damned annoying.
Truth be told they both had some degree of that complex.
Boxer couldn't help half-glancing periodically at the computer screen whenever he thought Socks wasn't looking.
With his parfait finished, Socks resumed tapping away at the keys.
It had a sort of ambient melody to it that made Boxer ease up and relax, coupled with the muted audio from the TV.
However, he shortly forgot to be sneaky about it, forcing Socks to stop typing and stare—rather, glare—at his brother intently.
"AH!" Boxer fell out of his seat upon noticing.
"Boxer, just go. Leave!"
"Ah, come on, I—"
"GO!"
"Fine! I'm not interested in whatever the hell you're doin' anyway."
Boxer went away with his hands in his pockets.

Still wondering about his brother's social life, Boxer figured the day could not have gone by any slower.
With no voice from on high, and the school closed down, there really wasn't much to do.
Boxer figured he could go out and see more of the town, so that evening Boxer decided that he would take a leisurely stroll down the street.
Just to clear his head.
Perhaps he'd go and hit up his favorite bar downtown.
Despite how sleazy the people and environment were around there, he was still capable of finding decent beer and entertainment, so he liked going there.
And the people their came to know, and respect him around there.
It was a nice reprieve from the nagging and disdain he got back home.

"Hello, Boxer," said a paralyzingly deep voice, not too long into Boxer's evening walk.
"Panther..." Boxer said, turning to face this so-called "Panther".
Panther was a hulking man, commanding authority in gaping strides, body burly and held upright.
Even though Boxer was an angel, he still felt a twinge intimidated by this man in particular.

Boxer met Panther during a brawl some few days ago.
Some cocky punk-ass wimp figured he could take Boxer in a fight, and readily lost.
The rookie said something that really grated on Boxer's nerves, and so Boxer was rather ruthless in his retaliation.
Even when it was clear he was the victor, he kept at it, until a much larger man—Panther—broke him away from the bruised little wimp and chastised him.
From then on, Boxer was very distrusting of, and didn't quite like Panther. But he admitted he had some sort of respect for the man.
Judging by his dress, Panther got around, and was wealthy.
Although, it was odd to see such pristine visage in the slums.
It was such a sharp contrast, it was almost painful to the eyes.

"I hear news about what happened at Daten high school." Panther said.
"Oh yeah? Word gets around quick, then."
"Indeed. I also hear that you were in the thick of the mess that went on there, too."
"Er..." Well it was true, Boxer thought, rubbing his neck. "Yeah. I figured I'd help out some kids in need, you know?"
"You ain't that considerate, boy." Panther chuckled darkly. "But it's none of my business, really. Though I can't help but wonder, all things considered."
Panther spoke as if he'd know Boxer for all his life, and it pissed the latter off, for obvious reasons.
"Do you really want to know why?" If he didn't, it was safe to assume that the news omitted the part about Boxer and Socks being angels.
That, or they said it, and the readers brushed it off as a crock of horse shit.
Despite the ghost activity, there were still many skeptics and those without an ounce of faith.
Truth be told, after the incident, Boxer felt a little stronger for it.
Maybe it was because of those kids' gratitude and renewed faith in divine and celestial beings?
"You don't have to tell me. But what say I buy you a drink? I'd think you were deserving of some reward, after doing the parents of those missing kids a favor."
"That's very generous, Panther." Boxer took a moment to think about it. "Yeah, sure. I'm always up for free booze."
Together they entered the bar, and Panther bought Boxer several glasses full.
By the fifth, Boxer felt a bit of a buzz, which loosened his lips a tad.
"I always wondered why you hang around here in this dump, Panther."
"Mm?"
"I mean, it's so obvious you're better than this. You probably think you're on a higher pedestal than these fuckers getting themselves smashed."
Boxer gestured around the bar to its patrons.
Quite a few gazed over their way, but aside from a few mean looks and murmurs, they did nothing.
"Maybe." Panther threw back his beer, taking several gulps.
Boxer might not have known much about him, but he knew that Panther could certainly hold his liquor.
Seeing him made Boxer want to compete, so he took another swig.
"Things are more interesting here, but then, I haven't seen much of the city yet." Boxer belched unabashedly. "Only just recently am I getting work," he shook his head. "I didn't even get a chance to really show that bitch what I could do."
"Hmm." It was clear that Panther wasn't 100% on board, but he allowed Boxer to keep running his mouth.
"I mean, goddamn! Well whatever. I'm just a little outta practice, that's all. I'll do better next time."
Panther, figuring that Boxer was just having trouble in bed, offered his hand.
"If that's it, I could give you a few pointers."
"Huh?" Boxer hiccuped his confusion.
A few more glasses, and his face was flushed a cute red that caused Panther to smirk.
"I don't need your help, man," it was weird for him to even be offering. "Like I said, it'll be different the next time. I'll really let loose, just you wait!"
Boxer's words were beginning to slur, and Panther couldn't help but chuckle.
"You're sure about that?"
"You don't believe me?" Boxer swayed slightly in his seat.
What was going on? The man seemed totally composed.
Just how much beer could he handle?
Not only that, he seemed to be made of money.
Boxer couldn't quite count the number of glasses he had by now.
It was a lot, surely.
Furthermore, how in the world could Panther help fight against ghosts? Boxer thought.
Admittedly, that Ginger-Geek was capable of finding that milk-obsessed ghost in the first place, with her freaky Ghostbusting contraption.
And she was but a little high school girl.
Boxer found himself believing—for lack of better judgment and drunkenness—that Panther could, possibly, aid him in his holy duties.
In fact, he was all the more willing to believe it, given the look of this beast.
"Oh, I believe you. But you can always do better than better, you know?" Panther steadied Boxer with a hand to the blond's shoulder, and leaned in. "I'm feeling generous today. So how about it? I can bring more excitement in your life."
"..." Boxer looked as if he was considering it.
He wasn't in his right mind. Far from it.
"OK, I guess. No big deal." He said.
"Excellent."

Panther paid for the expense in booze, and escorted Boxer out from the bar to who-knew-where?