Call of the Wolves

by kuku88

"I'm not what you think I am," breathed the spiky, black-haired bad boy, leaning in. "Sure you aren't," she muttered, pushing him away. He raised an eyebrow. "That's what you think," he replied evenly. Rated T, R&R!

63. Chapter 63: Wolf's Eyes

CHAPTER 63: WOLF'S EYES

ME: Wow, summer school's over! Yayyyyyy~

BLOSSOM: How great! Did you do well?

BRICK: *smirks* I bet you failed the class.

ME: Haha not quite, mister. *gives him smug smile* I did pretty well, actually! So I'm satisfied. In celebration, have this long-ass chapter I've been working on between classes! Also holy crap what the hell? Somehow this is more than 30500 words. Wow...

BLISS: Yay! Good for you, Kuki!

BUTTERCUP: Yeah, congrats!

ME: Aww, thanks! And also, quick update: my mother wants to go to Europe for the remainder of the summer, and I still have no idea if it's actually happening, but I'll be honest: after all that homework, I kinda just want to stay home! But we'll see, I guess. Butch, disclaimer!

BUTCH: Kuku doesn't own PPG, but she does own this story and her OC's—unlike the wonderful, majestic moi!

BUTTERCUP: Euch. Gross.

ME: Please read on and enjoy, dear readers!

Chapter 63: Wolf's Eyes

---

Tick-tock, tick-tock went the clock.

Damon smiled, watching the monitors in front of him, while a clock counted the seconds somewhere behind him. The entire cabin was in shadows. It was nearly 3:00 am, and he'd been watching the monitors for awhile now. Sometimes he would get up when he was bored, but he usually ended up sitting back down in front of them, watching.

On one screen, he could see his brother sleeping, with his perfect, unscarred face. Damon felt his lip curl back in anger. He was the one who should have had the perfect, flawless skin, clear of all scars. But no, his little brother, whom had also "perished" in a fire, had escaped without any burns—while Damon had to live with multiple fleshy, pink scars littering his face. It made him angry. He deserved the perfect face much more than Raymond did, considering how much he'd suffered through compared to his brother.

He watched the rise and fall of Raymond's chest as he slept. He imagined what it would be like, digging into that very chest and watching as his brother's rising chest stopped rising, and the life slowly bled out of him. We are blood, he thought, smiling to himself.

He switched his eyes to the monitor on Danes' office, where all was still and dark. Just below it was Danes' room, where the large man was sleeping. And Maggie and Chris on the next screen. And then Michael. Christie.

And of course, Ross' room.

Damon focused on it. It was empty, dark, and very, very green. The window displayed the rain and thunder that was still happening outside. Vix's room was empty too.

From behind him, a groan sounded. Damon turned slowly, smiling in excitement as he found the face of the groaner despite it being so dark. The boy lying on his couch, unconscious, was none other than Ross himself. He was still bleeding a little bit, but Damon had made sure to patch him up just a little bit. After all, he really didn't want any blood on the couch or floor, obviously.

Oh, and maybe preserving the boy's life would be a little bit important. That too.

Damon watched him stir for a few minutes longer with a grim but excited smile, before whirling his chair back to the monitors. He was so excited he could hardly wait. He looked forward to that moment at 6:00 am when Danes would automatically awaken like the outstanding citizen that he was (bleh, went Damon's mind), going to wash his face and brush his teeth. Then Danes would wake the children an hour or two later. Damon was looking forward to that in particular because this time... This time, it would be different.

He could just imagine the chaos. Danes would be awake and waking the others if they weren't already up, and he or Shamus would go into Ross' room to wake the boy assuming he was sleeping in. Then they'd find out he wasn't there and there would be a mass panic as everyone swarmed around the mansion, trying to find Ross.

Oh, and someone might notice that Vix was gone too. Damon wondered who would notice and who would care. He still saw the boy as his son, of course, but he didn't mind that the boy was embarking on a dangerous mission... After all, he needed to learn a lesson for choosing to betray Damon. Maybe then he'd learn from his mistakes and beg for forgiveness. Damon would welcome him back with open arms, of course, after a few rounds of hearing his pathetic, apologetic pleas.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The clock behind ticked on quietly, reminding him of every second passed. His excitement was building and nearly bubbling over, even though he knew it would be more than three hours until anyone would find out that Ross was missing.

As Damon watched through the monitor, Danes opened his gray eyes and sat up in his bed. He was shirtless and his usually straight, perfect gray hair was mussed. He glanced out the window, where a half-moon sat, gazing back at him.

"Why do I feel like someone was watching me...?" he murmured to himself, running a hand through his long hair.

Damon smiled to himself, touching the screen. Oh Danes. You couldn't be closer to the truth.

And just then, Danes jumped, startled, as if he had sensed the presence of his former friend. He stared straight into the camera, watching and waiting. But Damon wasn't worried. It was impossible to see the tiny cameras he'd installed into their homes. They'd been there for months now, and even Danes' paranoia hadn't led to him finding them.

Danes watched for a few seconds longer, before muttering to himself, "I must be more tired than I thought." Then he slipped back into bed, drawing the covers over himself once more.

The smile on Damon's face grew. Oh, if only you knew. He removed his hand from the screen. Sleep tight, my dear old friend. Sweet dreams, and don't let the bedbugs bite. Because this might be the last chance for a sweet dream you'll have in a long, long time.

The wolves are coming, Danes. Prepare yourself. Because once they are here, bedbugs will be the least of your worries as you crawl to bed at night. It'll be wolf bites you'll be scared of. And I'll make sure you learn to fear my pets.

Because as of today, Danes—I am plunging you headfirst into a real life nightmare. Damon giggled giddily. And I will enjoy every living, breathing moment of it.

---

Christie awoke at exactly 7:30 am. She knew because as soon as she flopped to the side and opened her eyes, her obnoxiously bright alarm clock was glaring back at her with those exact numbers.

She sat up, yawning and running a hand through her tangled, blond hair. She felt like she should be upset, although she couldn't quite remember why.

So instead of dwelling on the matter, she clambered out of bed and slipped on a pair of turquoise leggings and fuzzy socks. She threw on a baggy, white sweater over the yellow-and-white striped tank top she was wearing, before bounding out the door.

Christie made her way to Michael's room first. Knocking on the door, she heard her brother gurgle out a "come in" before she opened the door and went inside. He was in his bathroom, shirtless and dressed in a pair of ripped skinny jeans.

He spat out the toothpaste in his mouth and looked up, seeing her reflection in the mirror. He smiled slightly. "Good morning, sis."

"'Morning!" she answered, bouncing inside. "Can you believe the storm yesterday? It kept me up almost the whole night." She paused, feeling as if there was something wrong about that statement. But it had been the storm that kept her awake, hadn't it?

"Yeah, it was pretty crazy." He washed his face and reached for the comb. "I thought we were going to have a power outage or something. Can you believe that all the guests had to stay over? Luckily we could accommodate most of them, although a lot of them had to share rooms and even beds. Some of them were even unlucky enough to sleep in the living room and family room and drawing rooms and stuff, but it was alright because our couches are practically big enough to be beds haha."

The party. Christie's eyes widened. Oh my fucking God I totally forgot we had a party last night oh yeah fuck shit oh no...

Memories came pouring back into her brain like wine going into a wineglass. Her thoughts were suddenly filled with Vix, Vix, Vix... She remembered after the disheartening conversation she'd had with her uncle, she'd gone to find Vix. But the damn boy was nowhere to be found. And when she'd asked Raymond, he'd told her that he'd tried to look over Vix's hand but the boy hadn't been in the infirmary and Christie had felt suddenly worried and she'd gone to his room but she'd tried to figure it was nothing and that maybe he'd just gone back to the party and maybe it was all okay so she'd tried to go to bed but no she couldn't fall asleep and HOLY SHIT that was what had kept her awake almost all night—

"Christie? You there?"

Blinking back to reality, she could see her younger brother snapping his fingers in front of her face. His own expression was one of concern. "Oh, sorry." She smiled, trying to look reassuring. "I just...thought of something."

He looked suspicious, the concern remaining on his face. "Like what?"

"Err..." She tried to think quickly, before finally settling on a believable prospect. "I kind of forgot about the party," she admitted. "But then you mentioned it and it all came flooding back and I just thought of that awful Rodriguez..."

"Oh, you mean the older douche who's got that slicked back black hair?" When she nodded, Michael snorted. "I don't know who he's even trying to impress. After you left the party, he started trying to hit on Cassandra."

"Oh yeah," Christie said, remembering the girl her brother had been with for most of the night. "Who was she, anyway? I thought you already had a girlfriend."

He paused, glancing back at her with annoyance in his eyes. "Oh, not you too. She wasn't a date or anything. Just a friend." He rolled his eyes. "It's bad enough that Ross was all up in arms about that; I don't need you going on about it as well."

"Jeez, sorry bro. I was just asking." Christie folded her arms. "But yeah, Rodriguez is gross. I'm not surprised he tried to hit on—what was her name again?"

"Cassandra," he answered promptly, beginning to walk out of the bathroom. She followed. Michael went to his closet and grabbed a white t-shirt that hugged his abs and a thin but baggy blue jacket. "Her name is Cassandra." As he fixed the two white strings on the front of his jacket, trying to make them match more, he added, "But yes, Rodriguez is a slimy weasel."

"That's what I said!" Christie agreed. "But Mother wouldn't listen to me. Can you imagine that she wants to set me up on a date with him?"

"Ooh, sucks to be you." Michael gagged. "Maybe if you had a love interest of your own, Mom would get off your back with all these suitors."

Christie fell silent. She had a potential suitor she actually liked now, but she couldn't tell any of her family. Not even Michael. Because she knew that as soon as she did, they would all flip their lids.

Figuring her silence was just uncomfortableness at the idea of talking about all her potential suitors, Michael filled in the silent void with, "Lucky me, finding a girlfriend already, huh? She's beautiful, and smart, and I love her brown hair—"

"Doesn't Banana have blond hair?" Christie interjected.

He paused, looking up from his fiddling to stare at her. "Huh?"

"You said brown hair," she continued. "Like Cassandra's hair. But...your girlfriend has blond hair."

Michael's eyes widened. "Holy shit what the hell?" He covered his mouth with both hands as if he'd committed a crime with his lips. Which he sort of had. "Oh my Goooood what is wrong with me? It's bad enough you and Ross are worried about Cassandra and I, but I'm not making things any better by botching shit up like that!"

Christie frowned. "You're going to have to fix your unfaithfulness," she told her brother, "or else you'll be in trouble."

"I blame you guys! You keep treating Cassandra like she's my new girlfriend so I got the two mixed up." Face red in embarrassment, shame, and anger, Michael stalked toward the door. "I swear to God you guys are—"

Before he could finish, however, a scream sounded.

Michael threw open the door and ran outside, eyes wide. His sister followed not far behind, looking around for the source of the chaos.

Danes burst out of his room, as did Chris and Maggie, all of them already up and dressed for the day. Every door opened, with every guest from the night before poking their heads out. Danes noticed this and quickly hissed something to one of the butlers, whom quickly went about shooing people back into their rooms, with promises that everything was fine and that breakfast would be served in bed.

Every door had been flung open. Every door except Tyrone's, of course. It never opened. Because no one ever slept in it. But this time, two more doors stayed shut. Christie didn't notice the first one; she only noticed that the second door—Ross' door—was already open. And that was because Ross' door was the source of the shriek.

Danes stalked over, followed by the rest of the family (and Michael's friends, who refused to be chased back into their own rooms). "What is the meaning of this!?" he hissed.

Despite it being Ross' room, the person who'd screamed was clearly a female. She was wearing the work uniform the maids had to wear, and she had light-green eyes that seemed almost blue, like fresh grass splattered with dew. Her hair was soft and curly, brown to the point of being almost pink, sort of like Sidney's hair.

"What's going on?" Danes demanded again, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her upwards. She'd fallen over in her shock, a silver tray at her feet. A porcelain cup lay smashed beside it, with the contents spilled onto the floor. "What is your name? I must speak to Gina about your behaviour."

"M-My name is M-Mindy*," she stuttered.

"Alright, Mindy." He gestured at the floor. "Look at this mess. What on Earth are you doing, causing such a ruckus so early in the morning?

"M-M-Master Danes," she stammered, her voice becoming a terrified squeak. "I-I'm s-so sorry, I didn't m-mean to disrupt anyone—"

"Just tell me what the hell scared you so much you had to scream and scare my guests," he snarled.

She didn't reply, instead pointing into Ross' room.

Everyone followed her finger, peeking into the boy's room and dreading the worst. It looked fine by itself; the bed was still made, it was neat and tidy—except for some books laid out on his desk. And yet, that was the issue: it was fine by itself. But it wasn't supposed to be by itself; unoccupied and empty.

It was supposed to have Ross in it.

Shamus reacted first, leaping into the room faster than a bat fading into the shadows. "Ross!?" he cried out. "Ross...!"

"Shamus, calm yourself!" Danes yanked his friend back firmly, glowering at the heads that poked themselves out of doors around them, now curious about Shamus' despaired cries. When the nosy guests noticed Danes' glittering glare, they promptly ducked back inside. "You'll worsen the situation."

The other man was breathing heavily, shoulders heaving up and down as a wild look came into his eyes. "My nephew! Wh-Where is my nephew!?" he demanded between gasps.

Christie and Michael shared scared, concerned looks. Something was definitely amiss.

Ross never disappeared like this. Even if he was sneaking out, he'd never scare his uncle like this. Ross was a lot more sensible than most teenagers, even if he could be a bit rebellious at times.

Christie looked around. She was already itching to investigate, and she already knew who she wanted to interview first.

The only problem was... He wasn't there.

Christie found this highly strange. He'd been there immediately when they'd heard that Ross was shot, and he'd been super upset, even feeling guilty that he wasn't the one who was shot instead of Ross. So it wasn't like him not to be there with the rest of the gang.

She made her way to his red door, trying to steady her increasingly anxious pulse and heart. Th-Thump. Th-Thump. Th-Thump. They were pounding almost erratically. She raised her fist to knock on the door, noting that it was shaking. So taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she knocked.

She waited a few seconds, breathless and still, trembling with anxious anticipation. But no one answered. She waited a few heartbeats longer before pushing the door open.

She stuck her head inside. "Hello...?"

Still no one answered. So she pushed the door open all the way and walked inside. The red bed was made and untouched, and the suit he'd been wearing the day before had been carelessly thrown onto the floor. The window was open, red curtains billowing in the wind.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her breathing slowed. Her mind went into overdrive. Her veins felt fear pour through them, icy and cold.

Ross wasn't the only one who'd disappeared.

She walked over to the window and stared outside, where a chilling wind blew through the air. She shivered, drawing her arms around herself, wishing desperately she had Blaster's warm jacket on instead of her simple sweater. She was scared; scared of all of the negative possibilities that this new discovery brought:

Vix is gone.

---

No one could stomach eating breakfast besides the guests the household didn't know quite well, who were all eating in beds. But as for someone like Sydney, she wasn't hungry. At all.

Actually, she felt kind of sick, like she wanted to hurl and then lie in bed for the rest of the day. Her stomach was doing flips and her head was pounding. She dug a hand into her tan hair and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Honey..." A hand landed on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She looked up. Her father gazed back at her, concern shining in his eyes. Sydney drew in a sharp breath and buried herself into her father's arms. "Dad, I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know, honey, but I promise nothing will happen to you," he murmured back, stroking her hair the way he used to when she was a little girl and she was upset—before she got older and more "independent". She especially remembered running to him when there were thunderstorms, as she'd hated them as a kid. She didn't blame her younger self; when storms brought such awful news, she wasn't surprised she was scared of them as a toddler. In fact, she felt like she should be scared of them even more now.

I don't care what happens to me, she thought desperately, screaming inside, I just want Ross to be okay. Tell me he's okay. Out loud, she mumbled, "Thanks, Dad" before giving him a squeeze.

Sydney pulled away and glanced at her brother. He looked terrified, trembling with wide eyes. He was leaning against their mother for support, his eyes clearly watering as he tried to hold back his tears for Ross.

Michael, meanwhile, looked especially affected by this new development, his eyes already hollow and blank. He was resting his cheek on his hand, staring off into space in an empty way. Beside him, the girl he'd been with (who'd also flirted with Ross, Sydney noted, annoyed—both at the girl and at herself for remembering such a detail) was watching him with concern, one of her hands placed on his shoulders. For some reason, she'd been invited to the dining table even though she was just an acquaintance. Sydney wouldn't be surprised if Michael lost interest in her by the end of the day, as she was probably just a novelty—and besides, there were so much more pressing issues at hand.

As Sydney thought this, it reminded her that she was being petty herself. And as soon as her mind went back to Ross, the anger faded and only sad fear remained.

Christie was squirming beside her brother, clearly uncomfortable and feeling guilty about something.

They were all waiting for Danes to arrive and eating breakfast while they waited (if poking at your food counted as eating). Sydney swallowed air as she tried to clear up her clogged throat, where a lump seemed to have appeared. Just as her lips began trembling, in stepped Danes.

The large man was silent, gliding in through the room toward his chair as head of the table. As he swept by, he left a chill behind that caused the servants and the others at the table to shiver involuntarily. The cold anger was clearly rolling off of him in waves of snow like a freezing, icy, suffocating avalanche.

"Good morning," he greeted coldly, his voice devoid of emotion or any hint of sadness, "but I would hardly call it a good morning, as I bear some bad news."

News everyone already knows, Sydney thought.

"As most of you may have already been informed, Ross has been recently discovered to be missing," Danes stated.

Shamus let out a choked noise that sounded somewhere between being strangled and being about ready to burst into tears.

Danes glanced at his friend, a brief sign of pity flashing in his usually stony gray eyes before he faced the crowd again. "But there is more news."

More? Sydney wondered. She was too worn out to hear more. She only cared about the fact that Ross was missing now. Everything else suddenly seemed pointless and meaningless, like a gaping hole had been scraped out of her stomach. She felt empty. So, so empty and sick and ready to hurl even though she felt like she didn't have a stomach anymore.

"It's been brought to my attention that Vix is missing as well," the man finished. He paused, letting his words linger in the air for a little bit.

Vix... Vix? If it was him, I'm never going to forgive him! I'm going to hunt him down and make him regret ever crossing us. She spun around towards Christie, who had hung her head. Sydney wasn't surprised by this new development. She'd never been a huge fan of Vix; he'd just been so pretentious, acting so smug, as if he were better than others when no one wanted to be near him.

"B-But Vix wouldn't do that!" a voice spluttered.

To her surprise, it was Sidney who had cried out. She looked at her brother in disbelief, but before she could accuse him of insubordination before Danes did, someone else stepped up as well.

"Sidney's right. Vix wouldn't do that," Michael said flatly, standing up. His chair squeaked against the floor harshly as it was shoved back. "He's our friend. He's an important member of our family." He paused, almost like he was waiting for someone to object just so he could shut them down. He turned back to his uncle. "And unless there's concrete proof he committed the crime, he is innocent until proven guilty. I believe in him." He narrowed his hollow eyes at his uncle, as if daring him to state otherwise.

Cassandra had jumped back a little, startled by this new fire in Michael's recently otherwise silent self. But she seemed kind of impressed too, probably thinking that his passion for his friend was something to be admired.

Sydney was startled too. But she was startled because of the fact that even someone as sensible and protective and caring of Ross as Michael was defending Vix. Ross is in danger! Every minute we spend arguing about this is another minute wasted where Ross' life is on the line! How do we know he's not already dead? Why aren't we searching for him!? And why ohWHY are we all acting like Vix is the real victim here, when he's really the biggest suspect!? she wanted to scream.

She liked Michael, she really did. But right at that moment, she wanted to grab him and shake some sense into him. Ross was in danger. She couldn't believe they were sitting around arguing about Vix, of all people. Who cares about him!? He's not important right now! We need to find Ross!

Despite her internal cries, the conversation continued to be focused primarily on Vix, as would be thanks to the next person who spoke: "Yeah, Vix is cool! And I'm sure Darkai would agree, if he were here," Deth Jackson Jr piped up. His father shot him a disapproving look that the energetic boy ignored. This time, however, his energy was different. It wasn't his usually smug, sophisticated yet hyper attitude, but one of quiet but tense, crackling determination and loyalty to a friend who probably didn't really qualify for such a strong faith—in Sydney's opinion, at least.

Especially not with all the incriminating evidence against him, she thought.

Christie looked relieved that she wasn't the only one who still believed in Vix. She stood up as well. "It's true. We trust Vix. He's an amazing friend and a loyal bodyguard. He's carried out every mission you've assigned to him with the utmost efficiency. No one could deny that."

Maggie and Chris exchanged looks.

Danes, meanwhile, stared at his niece for a beat longer than necessary, looking a little pained, as if he knew something involving her and Vix that no one else knew. Finally, he coughed. "Enough. Sit down." As the teens sat, he continued: "Whether or not you trust Vix is a matter of your own personal opinion. I am not accusing Vix of anything. I am simply stating the facts. Ross is gone, and so is Vix.

"Now everyone, I request that you all stay calm. No one is to leave this building until we are sure that it is safe too. Each of you will be assigned a bodyguard, and I will be sending out my men to investigate. As we wait, I ask that each and every one of you stay in your rooms. There is more than enough to accommodate all of you; the maids and butlers will see to your needs. Please enjoy your stay and relax despite the pressing issues at hand. I promise that we will find the culprit and punish him justly and fairly.

"Stay calm and return to your rooms to await further orders. You are all dismissed. Stay safe, everyone." Danes paused as he shot his nephew and niece a disapproving glance that they defiantly returned. He added quietly (although not quite apologetically despite his choice of words), "As of right now, I am sorry to say that Vix is our prime suspect until proven otherwise." Before either could object, he said, "Dismissed."

The crowd scattered, although some remained at the table—still not hungry, but almost energized by the sad, negative atmosphere surrounding them. It was like running on a crappy source of power; it was horrible and probably smelled bad and you were scared it would wear off or break down 24/7, but it worked.

Maggie had gathered a little posse for her, which Sydney's parents were huddled in. And thus, the two pairs of twins that were the children of said parents were forced to attend the conversation as well.

As Sidney attempted to comfort Sally and Sarah, telling them that things would be okay (how unrealistic and sheltering of him, Sydney thought), the older girl out of the three kids was watching and listening to the group as if she were a part of it.

"I'm sure it was that Vix kid. He's been a suspicious little sneak ever since he arrived, just like a damn fox," Maggie was snarling, clearly angry. "I can't believe someone would do such a thing to such an innocent family! Poor Shamus; he must be worried sick right now."

"You're so right," Fuchsia was agreeing. "We should hunt that kid down and lock him up. He's obviously the main suspect."

"I've never trusted that kid," grunted Maxim. "He was always so smug, thinking he were better than everyone else."

"And yet, now look at the 'fearless' fox! He's run away with his tail between his legs, a chicken stolen unfairly from the chicken coop." Coal snorted, rolling his eyes. "What a coward."

Kinley laughed his nasally laugh. "I bet we'll shoot his tail off when he comes running back! He won't stand a chance!" The younger boy snickered. "We'll catch ourselves our very own Fantastic Mr. Fox**."

"Don't forget those Rowdyruff Boys. They can be Boggis, Bunce, and Bean," Coal added with his own smirk, "the Three Stooges."

"If he dares to show his face around here again, trying any of the Fantastic Mr. Fox's plans, I'll do more than just shoot him!" added Lin.

"I'd grab him by this sneaky tail like the vermin that he is. I'd cut through it with a knife rather than shoot it." Maggie smiled chillingly. "Isn't that more exciting? And then I can shove it down his throat as I watch him choke on it and I'll carve him up and cook him and serve him as fox pie..."

The men all exchanged concerned looks, clearly unsure whether or not Maggie was joking.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm joking!" she clarified, before pausing. "...Mostly."

Chris stepped forward. "If any of you see the boy, do not engage in combat. Refrain from trying to apprehend him, as he's actually quite capable. He may still be innocent, even if the chances are slim. Stay calm and please ambush him to lessen the chance of loss. Call for reinforcements when necessary. Do not hold off calling us or you may seriously regret it. Back-up will be sent right away. Also, please do not damage the boy too much until we find out the truth of the matter. Remember, we want him alive. We will be sure to interrogate him appropriately after we've managed to catch him."

"Yeah, and give him a muzzle!" Coal shouted, causing everyone to laugh.

Jamel, who'd been strangely silent the whole conversation, glowered at Coal.

"Agreed! We need a way to control him. Why not just shoot him with a sleeping dart?" added Maxim.

Chris gave them a passive yet very, very, very minuscule annoyed look. "...Humph. In any case, be careful. Or else you will be in danger. Catch him and give him to us. We shall put him away in the room and lock the door."

Sydney nodded along in agreement, although her mind was elsewhere. She didn't catch the upset look her twin brother shot her.

For her, someone not close to Vix, this was just another tidbit of information in the tirade of negative news. This wasn't a large wave; rather, to her, it felt like it made sense, even though to someone like Christie, it felt wrong. All Sydney cared about was the fact that Ross was gone, gone, gone, and that for her, that was what felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Sydney was consumed by worry and grief and guilt, and it made her sick to the stomach. Everything was hurting, and she was so, so scared. Where did you go, Ross? Are you okay? When are you coming back? I'm scared. Oh, Ross...

I miss you already.

---

"I can't believe your sister," DJ was saying, swinging into the room from the ceiling beams. He jumped down onto the sofa and spun around to stare at Sidney as the boy walked in.

"I'm sorry," the boy cried. "I don't know why she's supporting the adults' cruelty of Vix!"

"She probably just really misses Ross," Michael said rationally, walking in after Sidney. "The two of them have a bit of a...history together."

The brother of the mentioned girl flinched, remembering all the times Ross had been sad because of his sister. For almost a week after he'd been rejected, Ross had refused to talk to Sidney—not because he was unfairly blaming his friend; no, Ross wasn't like that—but because it was too hard to. Sidney knew he reminded his friend too much of his sister, even though they were polar opposites.

Michael sighed, suddenly seemingly growing another ten years older as his eyes grew even more hollow. He flopped down in a sofa, groaning softly as he leaned his head back and ran a hand through his blond hair.

Beside him, Cassandra fidgeted uncomfortably. "Should I go?" she asked quietly, looking much more shy than she had the night before.

"No!" Michael leaned forward, pushing up on the armrest with his hands and elbows. He took a deep breath, looking suddenly tired again, as if that display of energy had been too much. He pushed his hand up through his hair. "I mean... No... I'm sorry. I just...I need company. And...I-I feel like obeying my Uncle would be the best choice. We really shouldn't leave."

"Okay, if you want me to stay," Cassandra said, sitting down beside him. She placed a hand on his arm and he looked up and smiled gratefully, his hand still in his hair.

Christie turned away from them, facing Sidney. The boy jumped, startled. "Sid... Could you talk to your sister?" she asked.

He nodded hesitantly. "I-I could," he stammered in agreement, "but I-I don't know if sh-she'll listen to me..."

The announcements came on just then: "Sidney, Sydney, and DJ, please report to Danes' office."

Sidney glanced at Deth Jackson Jr and both of them frowned, Sidney more out of nervousness and DJ out of concern.

"Why wasn't I called?" cried Christie, jumping forward. She rushed out the door first. "I'm going with you guys," she added. "I need to talk to my uncle."

The duo scrambled to hurry after Christie, leaving Michael and Cassandra behind, alone. They were joined by Sydney midway to Danes' office, and Sidney glanced at his sister. He remembered Christie's request of him to talk to her, and the thought made his stomach twist into knots.

As they burst into Danes' office, panting, there was a beat of silence before Danes spun around to face them in his office chair. "Hello, everyone. You may have already guessed why you've been called here—" He paused. "Christie," he rumbled sternly.

Sidney wondered if he missed his niece's more obedient days. Before she'd left for private school and after she'd returned to his side, she'd listened to almost every order. She'd even been with him on initiating the war once they discovered her parents. But now she was defying her uncle at every turn. It had started around when Vix became her bodyguard. Sidney wondered if he'd changed her.

"Why wasn't I called!?" she demanded. "I want to help search for Vix and Ross too!"

"No, I forbid it," Danes stated coldly.

"Why?" she cried in disbelief. "I'm a good soldier and you know it!"

He turned away. "No. Return to your room. I must speak to the soldiers I actually called."

Christie gaped at him. "B-But I've proven myself time and time again, haven't I!?" she spluttered.

Danes spun back around, gaze dark and glittering as he snarled, "Christie Hawthorne, listen. To. Me. You are a valuable asset to this family and must stay inside lest you get targeted again. You of all people must understand the dangers and necessary precaution needed to protect you. You have seen the issue firsthand with Damon—he has hurt you parents and even your little brother. So until you are otherwise told to do so, return to your room. Have I made myself clear?"

Her shock evaporated and she drew herself up straighter. "No!" she yelled back. "I can handle myself and you know it! I don't need protection. I can take care of myself!"

"Last time you took care of yourself, you got kidnapped by Damon!" exploded Danes.

Christie drew back as if she'd just been slapped.

Sidney flinched. Ow, low blow, he thought. Everyone knew how much Christie hated that she'd been captured by Damon.

Danes relaxed. "And I will not let that happen to you again." Her uncle turned away from her one last time. "You are dismissed. Return to your room until further notice."

Christie stood there for a few seconds, looking as if she was getting worked up with nowhere to release the energy. So she stomped her foot down—hard—and stalked out of the room.

"Alright. Now, onto more important matters." Danes turned just slightly so that they could see one of his gray eyes flashing as he looked over the trio remaining in front of him. "I need you to look for both Ross and Vix. Sidney and DJ, you are assigned to go after Vix. Sydney, you will search for Ross. I would assign Darkai to you, but the boy has not awoken yet. When he awakens and if he feels ready, I shall send him after you."

"That's just fine by me," she answered, seeming pleased that she could work alone.

"Yessir," Sidney and DJ both said at the same time, saluting the man.

"I recommend looking around Damon's cabin first. But do not approach." Danes faced them. "I repeat. Do not approach. Scout the area out and send me back a report. If there appears to be reason to believe that Damon is responsible, then I will send a troop in. You are to wait there until the troops arrive. If there is no disturbance, then you are to leave the area and return here. You will be sent back out afterwards with a map of possible locations the boys can be in designed by our tacticians."

Sidney glanced at her sister. She seemed to be holding her tongue, probably screaming internally about how they didn't even need to bother with precautions; Damon was definitely the culprit. And as guilty as he felt, Sidney was secretly relieved that they wouldn't have to storm Damon's cabin alone. He knew what the man was capable of. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle him by himself. And yet, he couldn't help but feel ashamed knowing that he was being cowardly when one of his best friends were in danger.

"Dismissed," Danes finally said, and the trio burst out of the door.

"You guys better stay out of my way," Sydney snapped at them, pulling away from the duo.

"We've both been assigned to Damon's cabin though," DJ pointed out, looking annoyed at being ordered around and blown off at the same time.

Sydney snorted, rolling her eyes away from DJ. "I don't care. Stay out of my way. I'm taking the forest to his cabin, so I better not see either of you while I'm travelling there."

"How are we supposed to get there then!?" he yelled after her as he slowed down.

She kept running. "That's not my problem! Go around the forest or something! Just stay outta my way!"

DJ glared after Sidney's twin, folding his arms. "Your sister is a real bitch sometimes, you know that?" he asked his friend, seething.

Sidney flinched. "S-Sorry," he stammered back.

Sighing, DJ relaxed his shoulders and moved toward to go down a different hallway from Sydney. "Never mind. It's not your fault." He beckoned his friend to follow him. "Come on, let's forget about her and take the car. Uncle Slicer can drive us."

"Okay," Sidney said softly, slowly sliding after his friend.

Soon they were outside, underneath the sunshine, squinting against the brilliant white glare on the black limousine. Slicer stood at attention by the back of the car, ready to open the doors for them as they descended the front steps of Michael's mansion.

"It's way too sunny of a morning for a day as gloomy as this," DJ whined, stopping in front of the car. His uncle promptly opened the back doors and he slid inside.

Sidney followed, agreeing with a quiet "yeah" before both of them noticed the other man in the car.

"Hello, boys!" he greeted, turning around with a smile. While cheerful, it seemed a little strained and fake and tired, as if the man could hardly hold onto it.

"Dad!" DJ yelped, leaping forward in his seat. "What are you doing here!? You're under strict orders not to leave—"

"Orders schmorders," his father responded, waving his hand dismissively. "Danes can't keep me there. I have a business to run! Relax, I'll be fine."

DJ grumbled, "That's not what I'm worried about," as he folded his arms.

It sounded harsh, but Sidney knew that despite his friend's grievances, he did greatly love his father. The only reason he wasn't any more worried was because of stubbornness—he was too stubborn to admit or show it lest his father tease him about it, and he stubbornly believed that his father could handle himself—almost to the point of being blind to his weaknesses. So he let himself focus on being worried of his father ruining their plans instead of his father maybe being in danger.

Slicer started the car silently and pulled out of the driveway, going towards the city. As they drove, Deth Jackson Sr glanced back at Sidney and asked, "So how do you feel about all of this, piccolo pipistrello con scottature?"

"M-Me?" he squeaked.

"Sì," he confirmed patiently.

DJ frowned at his father, while Sidney stammered painfully, "I-I'm v-very troubled by the whole ordeal... I-I'm really worried for R-Ross and even Vix... I hope both of them are o-okay..."

"...I see," Deth Jackson Sr murmured.

"Papa, what are you doing? Stop making my friend uncomfortable," DJ said, folding his arms.

"Nonsense!" His father waved his worries away. "Sidney and I get along fine. Don't we?" He turned around and smiled a sharp-toothed smile.

Sidney shrank into himself. "Y-Yes..."

"You see!" he laughed, turning back to the front. "We get along just great."

Sidney buried his face in his sweater sleeves as DJ rolled his eyes.

Finally, Slicer pulled over and let Deth Jackson Sr off—but not before he insistently gave his son an embarrassing, loud, long hug goodbye. They were leaving him at the outskirts of downtown Townsville, and the family was getting a lot of weird looks as they listened to the father's dramatic farewell.

"Oh goodbye, my son! Take care! I'll miss you! I'll never forget you! I love you! Oh, I can't believe I'm leaving you behind. Be a good boy for Uncle Slicer okay?" As he finally tearfully let go of his son, he pulled out of the hug but didn't walk off right away. Instead, he glanced back at DJ and winked, smiling.

Fuming, DJ's face was red as various citizens walked by, whispering. He stomped back into the car, followed by Sidney and Slicer. As the doors closed, DJ burst out: "I can't believe my father! He has some nerve, embarrassing me like that!"

Slicer grunted and Sidney tried to say something comforting, but nothing more than a squeak came out. Sighing, DJ turned to face the window, still skulking. "Never mind," he muttered.

The rest of the car ride passed in silence until they got to the field and woods that marked Damon's territory. As they got off the car, Slicer drove off (since they couldn't leave anything behind that Damon might find). DJ and Sidney began marching up a hill, trying to stay hidden in the tall grass.

Sidney glanced at the bright blue sky and bright, blinding sun. He squinted against the light, wondering if Ross was really here. And if Damon had kidnapped him after all, why? He prayed that Ross was safe. And what about Vix? He hoped Vix hadn't actually betrayed them. He was a good—

DJ nudged him. "Look," he hissed, pointing.

Sidney looked. Just a few feet away was the infamous cabin. And someone was outside.

That someone was none other than Damon himself.

He looked like he was sorting through plants—probably herbs of some kind. As he worked, both boys saw a shadow pass by inside the window. They shared a look that asked: Is that Ross or Vix?

But before they could make a move, they saw another shadow slinking toward Damon. DJ grabbed his friend by the arm. "It's your sister!" he hissed, pointing. "What is she doing!? Is she insane!?"

Sidney watched, horrified. His sister was approaching Damon, throwing all precaution out the window. He wanted to scream out, but he couldn't. DJ held him fast, grip tight to the point it almost hurt. And even though he probably knew Sidney didn't dare to cry out, he clamped a hand on his mouth anyway.

Damon's ear twitched and he turned around. Sidney saw with horror that he was smiling as he whipped out a gun and fired straight at where Sydney was hiding in the treetops. There were three consecutive loud bangs; the leaves rustled before all fell silent.

"I know you're there~!" Damon sang. "And no, I don't have what you want! Unless you want thyme. I have a lot of that." He was beaming as if he'd just gotten surprise guests—which he sort of had, except for the fact they wanted to kill him. He held up his gun. "Or, maybe you prefer the plate of Bloody Bats. Because that's what you're acting like—a disgusting, sneakingbat." He spat the word out like it was venom, with narrowed eyes and curled lip, despite the rest of his tone being cheerful and upbeat. "I could cook that for you if you'd like!" he added, holding up his gun again.

There was some more rustling and the sound grew further away before it stopped completely.

"Theeeeeere we go. Now that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Damon smiled even more. "Sorry you don't want to come in for tea. I have other guests waiting inside, and they'll be so lonelywithout new guests. But oh well, to each their own. I'll just tell them they won't be seeing anyone today." He shrugged and went back inside.

DJ and Sidney shared a concerned look. Is he just crazy or is that a real warning? "Other guests"...? Like Vix and Ross?

Sidney made a move to get closer and investigate, briefly forgetting his fears, but DJ stopped him. He pulled him back and shook his head. Sidney suddenly remembered the danger they were in and sank back further down beside his comrade. The two of them waited another ten minutes but saw nothing unusual. So finally, they left.

As they walked to the remote area where they'd meet Slicer, they talked about what they'd seen:

"Damon is still stationed at his cabin. But why? He already knows we know where he's hiding. Danes could storm the place any second," DJ was saying, almost muttering to himself.

"B-But...he hasn't," Sidney whimpered.

"What?" His friend turned to him, furrowing his brow.

"I-I just mean that Danes could storm in at any second, b-but he h-hasn't," he repeated, stammering.

DJ stopped in his tracks. "Hey, wait a second... Yeah, why haven't we sent troops in yet!?"

"M-Maybe it's just because Damon is so d-dangerous," Sidney offered uncomfortably.

His companion shook his head in disbelief. "He can't be any stronger than an entire troop of soldiers," he grumbled, "and besides, letting him run wild certainly hasn't worked out for us, now has it?"

"I guess not, but I-I can understand Danes' sentiments," squeaked Sidney, thinking back to all the stories he'd been told of Damon as a kid. It had almost gotten to the point where Damon became an urban legend, even though they had all known him as young children.

DJ began stalking through the woods again, still looking frustrated. "I guess so. He was very good at figuring out where your sister was hiding; I'll give him that. But he's still a piece of shit that we need to get rid of before he does any more damage." The boy paused, leaving the other words unsaid.

But Sidney's mind filled in the gap anyway: Before he kills Ross.

The two were quiet until they finally reached Slicer and the car. The large man was leaning against the vehicle, but now he stood up, straight as a board, opening the car doors for them.

Sidney and DJ clambered in. "Go pick up Father and return us home, please," the darker-haired teenage boy commanded.

Slicer gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and started the car. As they drove, Sidney stared out the window at the trees. He and DJ remained silent, with nothing to say, and too many thoughts to think over.

When they reached the city, DJ's father greeted them in front of a seemingly run-down building. "Children, come on out," he called. "I have something I want to show you."

"What on Earth is so important that we're defying Danes' orders even further?" demanded DJ.

Sidney said nothing, but he did find it ironic that DJ turned from his playful persona into a more serious person around his carefree father. He trailed after the two commanding males, feeling small compared to them.

Deth Jackson Sr was saying, "Well, I felt a little nostalgic so I figured I'd come see one of our old hang out joints before it got shut down. I'm thinking of renovating it and reopening it sometime in the future."

"And what was it? Some stuffy dark factory?" muttered DJ, trying not to cough from all the dust surrounding them.

"Pfft," his father responded, "have a little more faith in your old man, il figlio! I used to be young too, you know."

"Yeah, like a thousand years ago," DJ added sarcastically.

"Ah, here we are!" Deth Sr shoved open two spiky doors that were covered in dust and cobwebs. "Welcome to the Dancing Bat and Wolf."

"What the hell kind of a name is that?" asked DJ, wandering inside. He surveyed the giant room, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. And then they widened... "Holy shit," he gasped.

"Yeah, check it out! It used to be a club. We had everything; a bar, a dance floor, dancers..." Deth Sr smiled crookedly, probably remembering the "good old days".

"Wow, this is actually kinda cool." His son wandered around, checking the place out. "Why did it get shut down?"

"Eh, Danes wasn't a fan of how 'un-secret' this joint was after Tyrone's death. It used to be one of our safe spots to hang out, and we used to share it with Damon's kind. But after that whole ordeal, we didn't feel safe around each other anymore so we shut it down. Still, I think we can reopen it eventually. Even if it'll only be for us, we can probably just get rid of the 'Wolf' part of the title and spruce it up a little bit. The place originally belonged to my father anyway."

"It belonged to nonno?" asked DJ, looking doubly surprised, using the Italian word for grandfather.

Sidney remembered his friend's grandfather. He was a scary, grumpy old man who was basically an emotionless wall. He was always classy and elegant; it was hard to imagine such a snappish old man having once owned a giant dance club.

"Yup," Deth Sr said, walking over to the bar. He smiled nostalgically. "I met a girl of Damon's people here years ago. Her name was Ruby. She was pretty cool. We dated for about six months before I had to go back to Italy for...business. We broke up before I left. She had really beautiful red hair."

DJ's mouth fell open. "A-Are you saying that—?"

His father laughed. "Surprised, aren't you? But yes, I am saying that. Still, I'm glad things worked out so that I met your mother in Italy. I wonder whatever happened to Ruby though?"

DJ glanced at his friend Sidney, who mirrored his shock. It was almost as hard to imagine this piece of news as it was imagining DJ's grandpa owning a club.

"Anyway, I guess we should go back now." Deth Sr sighed. "Back to the mansion, where we return to hiding like a bunch of scared little bats." He snorted. "The club's name has never been more fitting. We're dancing like fools away from the wolves out of fear."

"Come on, Dad—let's go." DJ grabbed his father by the arm. "You'll feel better when we get back to Michael's place."

"Sure." He started toward the door, but paused when he noticed something glittering on the floor. "What's this?" He walked over and picked it up. It was a gold chained necklace with a little red gem at the end. His eyes widened but then his face hardened and he stuffed the necklace into his pocket, his expression giving nothing away. "It's time to go."

He was walking quickly now, and DJ and Sidney exchanged concerned looks. But then they were outside and the dangerous air of inside was shaken off. They made his way towards the car, but were stopped by a surprised voice:

"Sidney...?"

He froze, turning slowly around and meeting the eyes of Bubbles Utonium. She was wearing a blue sweater and white jeans, carrying a blue purse and some shopping bags. She was hovering over the sidewalk, and now she flew towards them. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Ummm..."

DJ nudged his friend's arm and stepped up. "Oh, we were just"—he glanced at her bags—"shopping ourselves."

Bubbles frowned. "Umm, okay... But why are your uncle and—"

"Business. They had work to attend to, and Sidney and I figured we'd hang," DJ said quickly. "His sister was with us too but she chose to split up. She's a bit of a loner." He snorted, still probably a little bitter about being left behind.

"Oh." Bubbles grimaced at the mention of Sydney. "Well... Is it alright if I talk to Sidney?"

DJ glanced back at the car, where his father shrugged. He slowly turned back to Bubbles as he said, "Okay, but please make it quick. Sidney and I have stuff to do back home." He ruffled his friend's hair. "I'll be waiting in the car, okay?"

"Okay," he squeaked, his voice an octave higher than usual. He kind of wished DJ would stay. Maybe things wouldn't be so awkward—maybe he and Bubbles wouldn't have to delve into all the deeper stuff.

"So...I was thinking..." The blue Puff drifted closer, gently placing a hand on his chest. "I...I definitely didn't treat you fairly when I was your girlfriend, but..."

"This isn't the time," he burst out.

Looking hurt, she quickly drew her hand back. "It isn't...?"

"I-I'm sorry, Bubbles," he stammered apologetically, now feeling guilty about shutting her down like that, "but I—I have more important matters to attend to right now."

"'More important'...?" she repeated, looking even more hurt.

"No, no! It's not like that!" he repeated weakly. "I-I just meant that something big happened and I really need to deal with that first—"

"No, no, I get it." Bubbles sniffled, slowly landing on the ground. "You've moved on. Probably realized just how awful I am. I shouldn't be doing this anyway. I don't deserve you and I've been just terrible. I'm sorry, I don't mean to confuse or play you. It's okay if you hate me."

"I-I don't hate you!" he cried in dismay, but she was already floating away. "Bubbles!" he tried to call out, raising his voice, but she just sped up and disappeared into the air with a blue streak.

Watching her go, now discouraged and guilty, he trudged reluctantly back into the limousine. As he shut the door, DJ leaned toward him and asked, "What happened? That was probably the loudest I've heard you be in a long time."

Instead of replying, he just buried his face in his hands. DJ looked like he wanted to push further, but one look and a shake of the head from his father stopped him from doing so. So he leaned back against his seat and watched his sad, shy friend.

Meanwhile, Sidney gazed out the window sadly between his fingers, hands still covering his face. The amount of guilt he felt was immense. It chewed away at him, and his mind's eye always returned to that injured look in those perfect baby-blue eyes... He sighed quietly to himself. I really haven't gotten over her.

---

Buttercup leaned against the bench and smiled slightly in amusement. "You're such a dork," she said.

Butch stopped making his goofy face to smile back at her. "You've got me all figured out, B-cup."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" She shoved him lightly with her boot and he laughed, sliding a little further away down the bench.

"Hey, gross! Your boot's probably super dirty!" he protested, although the feel of indignation was lessened by his grin.

Buttercup rolled her eyes affectionately. "This wasn't really how I planned on spending my morning," she sighed dramatically, "sitting beside Butch on a bench for an hour."

"Hey, we could look around if you'd like. Make it..." He smirked, pausing for dramatic effect: "A date."

"Ew, gross." She nudged him. "I said I didn't want to go shopping and I'm sticking by it."

He chuckled. "Even if it means sitting beside me for another hour?"

She smiled. "Even if it means sitting beside you for another hour," she confirmed.

"I doubt it," he responded, laughing harder. "You're going to give up in like, ten minutes."

"Hey, give me some credit. I can tolerate you a bit more than that."

"Yeah? How do I know?" he smirked.

"Well...I don't always vomit when I see you."

"Ouch, B," he said, making an exaggeratedly wounded face and placing a hand on his heart.

She kicked him. "That was a compliment!"

"A backhanded one," he laughed.

Buttercup smiled. "Well, it's still a compliment, right? And it's a good thing too, considering we're stuck with each other while waiting for Bubbles and Boomer to finish shopping."

"Yeah, man—how weird is that? Both of our siblings decided to go out and made us tag along. It's almost as if it's...fate," he said dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows.

"God I hope not," she laughed. "If you were my destiny, I'd be worried."

"Hey, I thought you could tolerate me!"

"Yeah, but not to that extent," she snickered.

"Ouch, BC! That's brutal!" he laughed back.

Buttercup smiled. While it was true that sitting on a bench in an outlet wasn't the way she'd planned on spending the morning, she couldn't deny that she was pretty happy to have run into Butch. When he wasn't being a suspicious, pervy jerk weirdo, Butch was a genuinely chill and funny guy. She didn't mind him nearly as much as others thought she did; they'd grown a lot closer recently and even over the years.

"I wonder how much longer they're going to take?" sighed Butch, leaning against the bench and bending his back backwards so that his head was facing up at the sky.

She smirked, "Who's giving up now, Mr. Asshole?"

He turned to her and smirked right back. "Not me, that's for sure. I'm totally gonna prove to you that I tolerate you more than you tolerate me!"

"Ha, like that's going to happen!" she scoffed, ready to shoot back a sharp retort, but then her phone began buzzing in her jeans pocket. Pulling the device out, she answered the call. "Hello? Michael Hawthorne?"

"Buttercup, right? This is Buttercup, right?" His voice sounded urgent and panicked.

"Uhh...yes," she answered slowly, wondering what was wrong. When Ross had gotten her and Michael to exchange numbers, she hadn't expected them to exchange any texts—let alone phone calls—in the near future.

"Buttercup, I'm freaking out," he continued, definitely sounding legitimately pretty freaked out.

"What's wrong?" She sat up straight, noticing Butch raising his eyebrow from the corner of her eye.

"Okay, I really shouldn't be saying this to anyone but what else am I supposed to do? If we don't find him by the time school starts, then everyone will know he's missing anyway."

"Michael," she said slowly, icy fear filling her veins, "who's missing?"

He made a strangled noise, as if still debating whether or not he should give in and reveal the information. You've already called me, hurry up and spit it out or else I'll strangle you! she wanted to scream, but she kept quiet. And good thing too, because he finally explained, "I'm sorry, BC. I hate to ruin your day like this. But... Ross has gone missing, and I just—I thought you deserved to know."

Buttercup's eyes widened and she dropped her phone. Butch shot forward and caught it, hearing the "Buttercup? Buttercup!" on the other end, but she was too stunned to take back her phone.

"Ross...is missing?" she repeated in disbelief.

Butch's head snapped upwards at the words. "What?" he growled.

"Oh shit, is Butch with you too?" Michael groaned.

"Ross...is missing?" she repeated again. The words weren't processing. The pieces in her brain had stopped working. Everything had shut down. "Ross...? Ross is missing!?" Gasping as the gears suddenly clicked back in place, she snatched her phone from Butch and demanded, "What happened? Why did he disappear? Where is he?"

"We don't know!" Michael cried. Butch shot her a look so she put him on speaker: "He just vanished last night! The entire mansion is on lockdown. Shamus is devastated. We're looking for him right now but nothing's turned up!"

Buttercup jumped into the air. "I'll go look for him right away!" she promised.

Butch joined her side. "Where might he have gone or been taken to?" he asked.

Michael hesitated on the other end, probably not wanting to disclose information to the green Ruff. Who cares about your petty rivalry!? Ross' life is on the line! Buttercup thought, just as Michael said, "It might have something to do with a certain red fox."

"What?" Butch grabbed the phone from his counterpart, ignoring her cry of indignant protest as he whirled around and turned speaker off. "You're away from BC now so you better tell me who it exactly is because I really fucking hope you're not talking about who I think you're talking about," he hissed.

"It might have to do with Vix," Michael repeated in more obvious confirmation. "He's disappeared too. We don't know if he's the culprit or not, but things don't look too good for him."

"Don't tell me you assholes believe that!?" Butch snapped. "Vix might be a violent traitor, but the whole reason he's labelled as a 'traitor' by us is because he joined your side! From what I've seen, he's done more shit for your fucking people than you guys deserve."

"I thought you guys were enemies?" Michael snapped back irritably. "Of course we don't believe that, you dunderhead! Vix is our friend, and we trust him."

Butch relaxed. "Good. At least you aren't as idiotic as I thought you were."

"Oh fuck you."

"Butch, give that back!" Buttercup flew towards him an grabbed her phone from him. "What the hell was that!?" She turned back to the device. "What did you say might have to do with Ross' disappearance?"

Michael coughed. "Red! The colour red."

Buttercup furrowed her brow. "What...? I thought I heard something about a fox—"

"Nope!" he said quickly on the other end. "Box. I said 'red box'."

"A red box?" she repeated in disbelief.

"Yup! I said that because...there was a weird red box discovered in his room and we haven't managed to unlock it yet but we're working on it!"

Butch frowned. It was a sort of clever cover-up, but if the box didn't actually exist (which he doubted it did), it would kind of hurt the credibility of the story.

"That better be true!" Buttercup exclaimed, voicing his own concerns. "And when it's opened, I want to know what it contains!"

"Of course," he replied tightly.

"Alright, Michael. We're going to go look for Ross. Where do you think we should go first?" Butch asked.

"There's a certain forest I'd recommend, but uhh..."

Butch glowered at the phone, wishing he could shoot laser-beams at Michael and his idiocy. Don't mention Damon! Don't you dare mention Damon!

"But uhh, DJ and Sidney already have that area covered so maybe try somewhere else. Ross hung out at the park a lot, so that could be a good place."

"Okay, thanks," Butch stated.

"Oh, poor Ross! I hope he's okay. I'm really worried about him," Buttercup exclaimed.

Butch felt something twist inside of him, and it startled him when his mind presented the uncomfortable emotion as "jealousy".

"Yeah, me too," Michael agreed. "He's my best friend, after all. I really hope he's okay."

"Well, we'll be going to look for him now. Talk to you later," Butch said flatly before Michael could add any more. Then he promptly pressed the "hang up" button.

Buttercup glared at him. "I wanted to ask him more questions! Ross' life is at risk; don't you care about that?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped back, frustrated that she was taking his actions the wrong way...again. He couldn't tell her that though, or else she'd get mad at him for not disclosing information he couldn't disclose. She cares too much about Ross sometimes, he thought, before immediately feeling guilty for thinking that.

"So why are you acting like you don't give two shits!?" she demanded.

Butch glared back at her. And why are you acting like you give too many!? Instead of that, he said, "I do give two shits! I give more than just two shits! Ross is a good friend of mine and of course I care about what happened to him! But Michael probably doesn't want to give way too much info because his uncle could've forbidden it. You do know that if this case ends up involving police, they'd probably be sworn to secrecy, right?"

"But they haven't involved police yet!" she burst out indignantly. "It's worth a try to ask more questions, isn't it?"

"I doubt he knows much more! You heard him; Ross disappeared without a trace!"

"What about that red box?"

Butch held his tongue on a sarcastic remark about the "red box". "Look, I just want to get a move on because the more we stand here, the more time we waste." And maybe if we split up, I'll hear less nagging from you. A smaller part of him added in a whisper, And less you of worrying about Ross, but he quickly quashed the thought.

Buttercup folded her arms. "Says the guy who doesn't give two shits."

"I do care!" he yelled back angrily, his temper flaring. "Will you shut the hell up about that!?"

"But you're not showing that you care!" she protested.

"Yeah, well, you're showing too much!" he snapped.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you give too many shits! Why do you care so much about him anyway!?"

The world seemed to freeze. Buttercup fell silent as Butch floated there, shoulders heaving. A few seconds passed where he finally relaxed.

"Buttercup—"

"Enough. Fuck off, Butch. I obviously give enough shits to cover for the both of us." Buttercup whirled around and began flying away. "I'm going to search for him at the park by myself. Don't follow me." Then she sped up, leaving only her signature streak behind.

Butch watched the lime-green streak vanish into the sunny, blue sky while his own world seemed to turn dark and stormy. He sighed to himself. I wanted this, didn't I? he wondered, thinking back to his thought that they should split up. So why don't I feel satisfied?

He sighed before turning around and flying off in the opposite direction, leaving his own dark-green streak behind. Oh well. That's not important right now. What's important is finding Ross. And I know just where to start.

Damon's cabin.

---

Braker awoke feeling tired and like he hadn't gotten much sleep. Stretching, he felt his muscles pop before he hopped out of bed.

After shuffling to the bathroom where he washed up and then flying down into the kitchen, he stopped in front of the door. There was someone he wasn't expecting already there. His eyes widened. "Bliss...?"

She looked up at him from where she'd been snacking on a cookie. "Oh, hi, sleepyhead," she said, standing up. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."

Bandit was sitting across from her, petting a rabbit he'd probably befriended earlier during the day. Braker spotted its leg, which was in a cast, when the rabbit shifted its body, confirming his thoughts. The purple Ruff looked up at him and shrugged as the rabbit munched on some greens laid out in front of him. "'Morning. Bliss barged in awhile ago."

Him was floating around the kitchen, wiping down the counter. "Ah, good morning, my darling~!" he cooed. "Did you have a good night's sleep?"

"I-I guess," Braker answered awkwardly.

"I'm glad to hear it!" He squeezed out a washcloth over the sink before he floated out from behind the counter. He was wearing a frilly red apron that read "I Work in Hell's Kitchen", which he was untying from his waist. "Well, Mojo honey and I have to go out for his new invention unveiling, but we'll be home before 3:00. Have fun with your little friend, Braker!" Him tittered, already disappearing out the door in a puff of pink smoke.

"What time is it?" he asked, dazed.

"11:20. You sure can sleep," Bliss said, floating over to him. She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and looked into his eyes, making his breath hitch as she murmured, "We're going out."

Bandit took one glance at them and stood up, picking up the rabbit. "Come on, Tia. We're not going to stick around and bother these two." The rabbit's nose twitched maybe in protest of having to leave behind its food, but the two were soon out the door.

Bliss watched them go. When they were fully gone, she smiled almost mischievously.

The spell was broken when she flew away. Braker gaped at her back. "Wait, what!?" He chased after her. "Where are we going?"

"DJ's suddenly stopped texting me constantly nonstop and I think there's probably something wrong. Last I heard of him he was going to Michael's house for a party. So we're going to stake the place out."

Braker flinched at the word "stake". "Wait, wait, wait—I thought you were over him?"

"Jesus Christ, Braker! I'm not going to spy on him because I miss him texting me or whatever; I'm going to spy on him because I'm worried! This no texting behaviour is very abnormal of him," she shot back, rolling her eyes as she spun around to face him.

He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Bliss sighed. "Let's just go." She flew into the air and out the door.

The two flew in silence, but Braker glanced at her occasionally, noting the determination in her eyes. He wondered how true it was that Bliss was over DJ. After all, she'd been convinced for a pretty long time that he was the perfect boyfriend.

Maybe I could—

"There's Michael's house!" she said excitedly, stopping midair before diving downwards. Her orange streak followed her.

Braker also dove after her. The two of them were stopping a few feet from the mansion so that no one would see their bright orange streaks. As he skidded to a stop beside her, she was already beginning to move forward. Braker scrambled to keep up.

"It's huge," she breathed, eyes wide as she stared up at the glittering building.

"And blinding," he muttered in an almost bitter tone. When she frowned at him, he shrugged.

"I've never been here before," she stated, trying to steer the conversation into something not about how much Michael and his friends sucked.

"Hm." Braker stepped into the large bushes surrounding the fence that surrounded the mansion. "Well, here's a few pointers. There's probably a gazillion security measures. Danes is kind of paranoid like that." Especially now, after all that's happened thanks to the war.

"Oh. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. They are super rich and probably a target for bad people," Bliss answered thoughtfully. She tapped on her chin, squinting up at the tallest points of the fence, trying to think of a way to get in.

Braker bristled at her words "bad people". You don't even know who Danes is trying to defend himself from! Sure there are robbers out there, but if you knew the people he was scared of, would you still be labelling us that way? He didn't show any signs of agitation outside besides a slight look of annoyance because he knew he was overreacting. Bliss didn't know, so it was unfair to assume she was doing the same thing as Danes and labelling all of the pack as bad.

"Well, where's a wing that's not so well-guarded?" she asked, breaking his thoughts.

"Uhh... I'm not sure." He stared at the front gates, where two guards were posted. "Danes has probably stepped up the security even more after...everything that's happened."

She furrowed her brow at him but didn't ask him to elaborate. Even while he was leaving details out, she could remember some of the bad things that had happened, including Ross getting shot.

Just then, two men escorting two maids appeared at the gate. The guards halted them and they began speaking in low, hushed tones.

Bliss nudged her counterpart. "Come on, let's go see what's up!"

He followed at a much slower pace, but soon the voices were clear:

"Did you find him?" one of the guards asked. Braker recognized him by his scar. He had fought this man once, on the battlefield. The realization that he was entering enemy territory made him draw back a little bit while Bliss listened on eagerly.

"No, it's terrible," gasped the maid. "There's still no sign of him!"

The other maid held up a basket. "We did get the herbs Master Danes asked for, however."

One of the escorts with them added, "It wasn't easy. One of those dumb herbs could only be found by Sampson's house. He discovered us and was furious! He tackled us and we fought for a bit."

"Man up, Lopez," the guard beside the one with the scar said, nudging him with the spear he was carrying.

"It was serious though!" Lopez protested. "He was howling about what we'd done to his daughter, whatever he was talking about."

Braker jerked upwards. His daughter? Cassandra? What happened to her?

"Yeah, he was pretty mad. But we handled it." The other guy with Lopez jostled him pretty hard.

The orange Ruff bristled, growling lowly, when he saw the man with Lopez. It was none other than that ass Kinley; the guy with an ego the size of the solar system. The guy who'd hurt Boomer.

"What are they talking about?" Bliss questioned, breaking him from his murderous thoughts.

He shrugged in response, causing her to frown.

"How helpful," she muttered.

"What were you expecting?" he hissed back. I know more than I'm letting on, but...I'm not letting on.

"Jeez, sorry. Don't get so defensive about it," she countered.

He fell silent as the guard asked, "Are the other patrols behind you?"

"No, sorry. We all split up to make things easier. Fuchsia and her butler are off somewhere closer to the city, and the others... I dunno." Kinley shrugged.

"Alright. Well, did you guys get everything you needed? Even that most elusive one, whatever its name is?"

"Yes," Kinley said quickly.

"But—" Lopez began, causing him to be jostled again by his companion.

"But it was certainly a struggle!" he continued. "We had to fight Sampson tooth and claw for it!"

"Jesus Christ, both of you need to man up. Sampson's just an old wolf anyway," the guard beside the one with the scar said, sounding a little annoyed. "There's no need to exaggerate so much."

Kinley bristled but said nothing. Lopez looked like he wanted to say something, but one look from his partner shut him up.

"Oh don't be so hard on the two. They're still new to the game," the guard with the scar said. "Come on inside, you four."

Kinley looked annoyed with the both of them but entered with a dignified air. Lopez followed with the maids, helping them inside.

As they shuffled into the gates, Bliss turned to Braker. "Look, it's our chance to get inside! All we have to do is pretend we fought this awful Sampson guy, right? And then—"

"I'm not doing it," he said bluntly.

"What...?" She drew back, surprised.

"I'm not doing it!" he repeated. "Sampson's not awful. He's my friend."

"...Oh." Bliss' eyes were wide with startled surprise.

"You can do it by yourself if you want, but I'm not going against my friend," Braker continued. "Besides, I doubt it'd work. The guards have to keep track of every patrol. They're not going to recognize us."

"If this Sampson guy's your friend..." she said slowly, already theorizing.

Braker frowned, wondering if he'd done the wrong thing to admit he was friends with the man. He couldn't see the harm in it though, all things considered. Bliss didn't know anything about Sampson, anyway.

"Then what if we just got that elusive herb the guards were talking about from them?"

He started. "What...?"

"The herb! He'd give it to you, right? Then we could use it to get in!"

"But you heard Kin—I mean, that annoying redhead! They already got it..."

She gave him a weird look for his almost slip-up but she let it slide. "Oh, don't kid yourself. It was obvious he was lying."

He hesitated before deflating. "Alright, fine. We'll go see my friend." Bliss was already beginning to silently cheer when he quickly added, "But if we get turned away at the gates or there's even the slightest sign of aggression, I'm getting you out of here pronto."

She frowned but then she smiled. "Deal. And thanks. This means a lot to me." She threw her arms around him, causing him to freeze. But then she let go and he could relax again. "After we talk to this Sampson guy, I gotta go home and get something."

"What?" he asked, sneaking after her. She was already moving away from the gates.

She smiled at him, winking. "You'll see!"

The two flew to Sampson's house pretty quickly. Braker led the way, and he insisted on standing in front of her on the doorstep. He knew Sampson was going to be on the defensive after an encounter with Kinley, and an unfamiliar face might trigger his hostility.

The door owned just an inch, the chain still in place. "Who's there?" a voice growled.

"It's me, sir. Braker Jojo," he reported.

"Ah, Braker! You're a sight for sore eyes." Sampson quickly threw the door open and ushered them in. He paused when he saw Bliss. "Who's your lady friend?"

"I'm Bliss Utonium, the Powerpuff Girl. We protect the city of Townsville from danger," she said before Braker could intervene. "I'm sure you've seen me in the news—"

"Ah, yes, of course. Just last week you guys were fighting that giant monster with the Ruffs. Anyway, come on in." Sampson stepped aside and quickly closed the door. "What was it that you'd like, Braker?"

"Well, I'm here to ask a favour of you," he explained a little hesitantly.

"What's wrong? Did one of your brothers get injured again? I'd be happy to help." Sampson was moving around, already preparing tea. "Did you guys have to deal with Kinley again? I did just earlier today. He's a real thorn in the side."

"N—ooo, not exactly," he said slowly.

Sampson looked up, frowning. "So what's wrong?"

Braker glanced at Bliss, who have him an encouraging nod. So he took a deep breath and explained, "Well, it's a long story, but we sort of kind of maybe snuck near Danes' house and overheard Kinley's conversation with the guards. We heard about how you guys fought and he said he got this elusive herb from you but I'm pretty sure he's lying and we need to get into the mansion so we wanted to borrow some of the herb from you to sneak inside." When he finished, he squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

A cold clink sounded, causing him to open his eyes. Sampson had dropped the spoon he'd been using to stir the tea. "Excuse me...?"

"I'm super sorry about this, sir—but it's very urgent—"

"You do realize how dangerous this is, don't you?" he demanded, walking toward them and slamming down the tray of tea. Braker flinched. "You're hoping to enter enemy territory? Are you insane? What would Mojo and Him say!?"

"Mojo and Him don't know," Braker said weakly.

"...Of course they don't." Sampson groaned and sat down, rubbing his temples as he closed his eyes, suddenly looking much, much older. "I need time to process this. Braker, I know you can be reckless, but I never expected you to have a death wish."

"Sir, with all due respect, Michael and his friends may be the Rowdyruff Boys' rivals, but they're certainly not the 'enemy' or 'dangerous'," Bliss stated.

He opened his eyes and stared at her for a long, long time. Then he murmured, "She doesn't know, does she?"

Braker shook his head as Bliss asked, "What?"—having not heard what he said.

Sampson stood up and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back as he stared outside. They were all silent for quite awhile before the man finally said, "And may I ask why you two are doing this?"

"We were just wondering about the state of things," Braker replied quickly. "For...a mission. A spying mission."

Sampson narrowed his eyes at them, specifically at Bliss. "But she's not in the know," he hissed, just quietly enough for her not to hear.

"I need her help for it," Braker explained. "One of us needs to dress up as the maid or butler and the other as a guard. They don't know Bliss as well as they know my brothers so it'd be easier to disguise her." He stood up and joined Sampson, lowering his voice: "Besides, I promise she won't find anything out. I'll be keeping a strict eye on her as well."

Sampson glanced at her, who looked a little irritated that she wasn't being included in negotiations. He finally sighed and nodded. "Very well. I will grant you your request."

Bliss jumped up eagerly, while Braker smiled. While he wasn't all that excited about entering Danes' territory, he had to admit that winning someone else over felt good—even if it was for a cause he himself didn't fully agree with. For Bliss, he reminded himself.

"I only have two conditions," Sampson continued.

Bliss deflated as Braker asked, "What are they?"

"Stay safe," he began (which also translated to "don't get yourself killed but I'm not saying that specific version of the line because of your ignorant companion"). "And please, as this is a spying mission, please find out what they did to my daughter for me."

"Oh, I heard about that from Kinley. What happened to Cassandra?" Braker questioned.

"I don't know," the man said helplessly. "One minute she's excited about attending this party, and the next minute she's texting me saying that she's at Michael's place and that something came up but her phone is dying—and now I haven't heard from her since last night. She reassured me not to look for her because she was safe, but I don't trust any of Danes' men for even a second. Who knows what they're going to do to her?" He shuddered involuntarily. "I knew I shouldn't have let her out of my sight. But she was just so happy and excited, I couldn't deny her that, not when she hadn't been outside for so long..." He cut himself off when he noticed Bliss' concerned look. He turned to Braker and grabbed his hands. "Please, tell me what's become of her. Bring her back to me. I can't lose her again after just getting her back."

"Of course," Braker promised, giving the man's hands a squeeze. "We'll get her back."

"Thank you," Sampson breathed, letting go. He began making his way towards the backyard door. "Follow me. I'll get you the herb you want."

As Braker made a move to follow his friend, Bliss passed by him, giving him a frown that made him feel a little guilty. It was a look that said "I know you're still hiding things from me".

The two walked out into Sampson's backyard, which was large and very, very colourful. Various flowers dotted the grass and dirt, and it was practically free of weeds. There were more shades of green than one would expect, and rainbows upon rainbows of flowers.

Sampson was standing before a patch of a plant that bore spikes of purple flowers which dotted the stem, bunched together. "This is the plant they wanted," he was explaining as he gently pulled a few up. "It's called betony, and it has healing properties. It's especially good at helping headaches. Betony is an Eurasian plant of the mint family."

"Wow," Bliss murmured, taking the plants gently from Sampson, "they're beautiful."

"They are quite pretty, aren't they?" He smiled slightly.

"Thank you so much," she said, reaching out and shaking his hand. "We really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Bliss. I'm glad to be of service."

"Come on, Braker, let's go! We don't have much time," she exclaimed, bounding away. "Thanks again, Mister! We'll be sure to follow your conditions. And thank you also for the tea!"

As she disappeared out the gate, Sampson joined the orange Ruff's side. "I like her," he said almost teasingly. "When do you guys think you can come back for some more tea for another date?"

"Sampson!" gasped Braker, shoving the man.

He laughed. "I may be old, but I'm not blind to young love, Braker! I see the way you look at her."

Before he could protest further, Bliss reappeared. "What are you waiting for; an invitation? I've already invited you! Come on!"

With his face burning, he flew after her. When he got to the gate, he glanced back at Sampson and groaned when he saw the man grinning and waving goodbye.

Sampson watched them fly off, smiling to himself. Then he lowered his arm and murmured, "Please be safe..."

Meanwhile, the two were already halfway toward Bliss' house, considering they had super-speed. While Bliss was shielding the herbs from the harsh wind, Braker kept replaying that scene with Sampson. "I can see the way you look at her," he'd said. Braker snuck a glance at Bliss. How do I look at her? he wondered.

"Here we are!" she exclaimed, flying downwards. Braker followed and they both landed with a light thump. "Come on, we have to get changed!"

"What?" He followed her up the steps to the door, almost in disbelief. "What was that about getting changed?"

She opened the door. "We have to get changed, duh! We need disguises. We're way too recognizable the way we are."

"I-I know that! I just—"

"Jeez, Braker. Get your head out of the gutter," she shot back almost playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. She led the way upstairs towards her room.

He blushed madly.

She threw open the door. "Alright, come on in! Let's get you into some new clothes."

As he entered the room, he was greeted with a mirror of his own room—well, sort of. It was a lighter shade of orange and probably less messy, but it was still pretty messy. It was decked out with geeky collectibles; ranging from mangas and comics to figurines and stuffed animals. Posters plastered the wall of cartoons and animes and cool art and bands. He spotted the band Marianas Trench and smiled slightly. He remembered it was usually her band of choice during detention***.

Bliss flew inside and gently laid the flowers out on her desk before turning to a clothes rack. She dug through it and pulled out a black-and-white, frilly dress that—

Braker's eyes widened.

It was a maid's uniform.

"Banana made this for me back when I was cosplaying as Nanako Konishi from Ichiroh!****," Bliss was explaining, as if that made it a little less weird (which it did, although it was still weird). "She worked at a maid café in volume two of the manga."

"A-Ahh, right..." Braker replied awkwardly. He coughed. "So...is there something I could wear? All of my cosplay is back home and I don't think we have enough time to go back."

"Uhh..." She glanced at the rack.

He held up his hand. "Never mind. I don't even want to know what you've got hidden in there." He gave her a playful smirk, something he hadn't done in quite awhile.

She blushed and punched him lightly. "Dick."

He laughed, grabbing a coat and fedora from her closet. "I'll just borrow these."

"Alright," she huffed, smiling slightly. "Well, I'm going to get changed. You can change in here since your costume won't take too long, but don't peek, okay?"

"Of course I'm not going to peek!"

She laughed before flying into her washroom. His cheeks reddened a little before he took off his orange hoodie and dumped it on her bed. He threw on the coat, standing in front of the mirror. He still looked like Braker (just with a coat on), so he decided to change his hair, pulling everything back into a ponytail. Then he picked up a pair of fake glasses probably from another cosplay. He stuck on the hat and tried a couple different expressions—from cocky to quiet. He finally settled on quiet because it was the opposite of himself and he hoped the guards wouldn't recognize him.

Bliss soon stuck her head out of the washroom. "Hey, can you help me lace this up?" she asked.

He nodded, so she lifted her long, long hair, and he felt his breath stop. He was staring at her bare, smooth backside. He felt himself longing to reach out and touch that backside, pulling her closer to him and—Braker reached out before hesitating, shaking his head to clear it, almost ashamed of his thoughts. Instead of touching her skin, he carefully helped fix up the costume. His fingers brushed her backside just barely, causing her to shudder a little. He quickly pulled back. "Th-There you go," he stammered.

"Th-Thank you," she answered just as awkwardly, turning around. "So...umm, how do I look?"

"Gorgeous," he breathed.

She did look very beautiful. Her hair was pulled off in a side ponytail and her maid uniform fit her form perfectly.

Bliss blushed. "Uh, thanks. You, umm... You look great too."

"Err, thanks." He glanced back at the mirror. "But what should we do about our eyes?" he coughed. "They're way too recognizable."

"I've got just the thing." She held up various cases of contacts.

Braker selected to have brown eyes, while Bliss ended up choosing blue. He briefly wondered if she'd chosen them just because DJ had blue eyes, but he quickly squashed the slightly jealous idea as if it were a disgusting roach. Besides, he reasoned, she looks really beautiful with blue eyes.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"You look amazing with blue eyes." He smiled at her, before clearing his throat. "Although I don't think it beats orange eyes. Orange is awesome."

She giggled awkwardly but thankfully. "Umm, thanks. You too. Your brown eyes and ponytail are pretty attractive."

"Right. Thanks." He rubbed the back of his head, face red, feeling hot and sweaty in his overcoat. "Well, we best be going."

"Let's go through the window. The Professor wouldn't be very happy to see me dressed like this," she replied.

"Okay." He felt his face warm again as the thought I can see why flashed through his mind.

The two spiralled out the window, with Bliss carrying the elusive herb and a basket stuffed with other random greens from the Powerpuffs' own garden. They neared Michael's house real quick, and Bliss slowed down a little midair.

"What's up?" Braker asked, skidding to a stop and turning around to float back to her.

She slowly began to descend. "I guess I just realized how risky this really is. I doubt they'd stab us with their spears, of course, since that would be assault, but they're taking this security thing really seriously, don't you think?"

You don't know the half of it. Instead of saying such an angering thing out loud though, he just shrugged again—something he'd been doing a lot around her. When she shot him a look, probably also noticing that shrugging was becoming his go-to response, he smiled sheepishly. "Well, I can't say for sure, but I'm sure if we act believable, they won't hurt us."

"I guess the 'unbelievable' part is the part I'm scared of." She gulped, clenching her basket tighter.

"So use it to your advantage. It'll be fine, you'll see." Braker flicked her maid cap. "Be a shy, nervous maid. Make your performance more believable."

"Easier said than done," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him as she fixed her cap. "My hands are shaking," she added as she lowered her arm and noticed the trembling limb. "I'm really scared."

Braker hesitated for a split second before reaching out and grabbing her hand. Starting, she looked up and he gave it a squeeze. "Don't be. There's nothing to fear—I mean, sure, there's a lot to worry about, but you're a great actress." He smiled reassuringly. "I believe in you."

She blushed. "Okay, okay, jeez—you don't have to make it so cheesy," she answered as she pulled her hand back.

"Ah, sorry. I was just trying to be encouraging." He held out his hand and stared at it as if it were a foreign object, surprised with himself for the bold move.

"It's okay. It worked." Huffing, she turned around and began walking off again. "Thanks."

He looked up in surprise but was greeted only with the back of her head. He smiled before continuing after her.

Soon enough, the gates were looming overhead and they were stopped by the same two guards from earlier. "Halt," one of them said, thrusting their spear forward.

Braker drew back with the lowest hiss, but he managed to keep his composure. "We come bearing herbs."

"And who the heck are you? I don't recognize you," the guard with the scar muttered, squinting at him.

Braker searched his head for information on this guard, before his mind finally settled on the name "Rok". He took a deep breath. Well, here goes nothing, he thought before plunging in: "Why, Rok—do you not recognize me? I'm highly offended."

Rok frowned, glancing at his partner, who shrugged.

Bliss piped up, "E-Excuse us, sir... But we are carrying that elusive herb Master Danes wanted us to find..."

"Kinley already found it," the other guard interrupted bluntly.

"Humph. It was obvious Kinley was lying. But if you don't want it..." Braker raised an eyebrow, standing tall and defiant.

Rok stared into his eyes and Braker had to remind himself that they were brown. "...Show us," the man finally commanded.

Bliss shakily produced the basket, where the purple flowers stuck out like a sore thumb among the other white and green plants. "It's called betony, sir, and it was only found by that awful Sampson's house. My escort here fought him bravely for it."

Braker still felt himself bristle at the idea that Sampson was awful and violent and that he'd battled him for a flower, but when Rok glanced at him, he smirked a small, smug smirk as if he really had done all that. "It was nothing, really. He was more...interested in talking than anything. It was easy."

Rok's companion glanced down at the flower again. "It looks pretty legit, Rok. It's the flower Danes showed us when giving us instructions."

"Yes, but how do we know you aren't here to cause harm?" Rok narrowed his eyes at them.

"Oh come on. There's a huge number of army men and maids in this household. You're not going to recognize all of us," Braker retorted impatiently.

Rok frowned, but before he could reply, the door swung open and Michael's voice sounded: "Cassandra, come back!"

Braker's head swung towards the cry at the mention of Sampson's daughter. Indeed, his daughter was bounding toward them with her skirt raised upwards to avoid getting it muddy. She was barefoot. Braker felt his breath slow. She looks really pretty.

Beside him, Bliss frowned at him, noticing the ogling eyes he was making and wondering briefly why she cared.

Cassandra stopped in front of them. "Oh my goodness, you two have the betony herb!"

Michael caught up, panting. "Cassandra, what on earth are you doing?"

"Look, Michael! It's that rare herb your uncle requested!" She made a move to grab the basket, but Bliss' grip on it tightened. She frowned.

Braker nudged Bliss. When she looked at him, he nodded.

So Bliss hesitantly handed Cassandra the basket. The girl showed Michael. "See?" She then stared directly into Braker's eyes and winked.

He couldn't help but smile back.

"Wow, you're right!" Michael looked up. "What are you doing, you fools? Let them in!"

"But Master Michael, I don't recognize them—"

"This herb is for the injured! We need it," Michael ordered. "There's tons of army men and maids here. I'm not surprised if you don't recognize some of them."

"That's what I said!" Braker added dramatically. When Rok shot a look at him, he smiled passively.

Begrudgingly, the two guards let them in. Bliss scampered in like a fearful mouse, while Braker strutted in like a proud peacock. As they all walked toward the door, Cassandra fell into step beside him.

"I'm not sure I recognize you, but if you're actually carrying betony, then my father must trust you," she tested.

"Hmmm. What if I actually defeated him in a fight?" he countered almost teasingly.

"That's impossible because my father is the best there is." She smiled back at him.

He chuckled. "True that. Okay, I'm Braker Jojo."

"Wow, really? I don't even recognize you!"

"Really." He paused, before nodding at Michael. "So, how's that going?"

"It's going," she replied. "What do you want to know?"

"Your father's worried sick, you know."

"I'm not surprised. I'm super sorry about it though; my phone died and Michael was letting me recharge it. I was going to text him back and explain my situation. I'm fine though. I think Mikey likes me enough to trust me."

"Yeah, I can see that." He raised an eyebrow, noticing the annoyed looks Michael and Bliss were shooting him. He cleared his throat and raised his voice: "Well, you best get back to your boyfriend, little lady. I've told you what you wanted to know about the betony plant. Now leave me be."

Cassandra spoke up too when she replied, "Okay, thank you kindly, sir. But he's not my boyfriend..." She glanced at Michael, who blushed and looked away. She bounded to his side and grabbed his arm. "So, are you going to bring the maid to your uncle? I can come too, if you'd like. I'm good with herbs..."

Michael smiled down at her. "Sure, I'd love to have you by my side."

As the two walked inside, Bliss joined Braker. "I wasn't expecting 'flirting' to be part of your character," she stated dryly.

"What, Cassandra? She's Sampson's daughter. We're just talking about her Dad," he replied, shrugging.

Bliss frowned but had to hurry inside because Michael was calling for her. Braker sped up too, not wanting to be left behind in enemy territory.

The four of them trekked upstairs and towards Danes' office, where the large double doors stood open—yet the atmosphere was hardly welcoming. Michael stuck his head inside and knocked. "Uncle...?"

"Come in," a flat voice answered.

Michael led the way inside. "Hello, Uncle. One of the maids has retrieved the betony you wanted."

Braker hung back. Danes recognized every soldier under him, so he couldn't let the man get a close look of him. However, Danes hardly knew the maids and butlers of the house, so it didn't matter about Bliss.

"They did?" Danes suddenly materialized in front of them. "Let me see."

Bliss shakily held up her basket, and the large man looked inside.

"So she did," he murmured. In a louder voice, he boomed, "Who was your escort? I will be sure to award him handsomely."

Both Bliss and Braker froze. Oh shit, he thought.

"H-H-He—" Bliss was stammering.

"Out with it, little lady. I appreciate that you brought us the betony, but I don't have all day to hear a single name," he rumbled.

"I-I—"

"Danes? You said you had the betony I requested?" A gentle-looking brown-haired, brown-eyed man entered the room just then (after glancing at Braker and pausing to wonder why he seemed so familiar, while Braker stood rigid and frozen).

"Ah, Raymond. Yes. This maid brought it back for us, although she seems to be too scared to tell us who her escort is."

"Him! He was my escort," Bliss blurted, pointing at Raymond.

"Excuse me?" Danes glanced at Raymond, who glanced at Bliss.

Braker did a face-palm.

"But I saw your escort—" Michael tried to say, but Cassandra began coughing violently. He turned his attention towards her, helping her out of the room. "Cassandra, are you okay?" he asked urgently in wide-eyed concern.

As they walked out, she gave Braker a wink, causing him to smile gratefully back (although the coughing seemed genuine enough to cause him worry). He turned his attention back to the chaos in the office.

"I-I did have another escort, but he was really quiet and didn't talk much. I didn't recognize him," Bliss said, now scared she'd made the wrong choice. "B-But this guy was there too."

"I specifically ordered everyone to stay inside unless otherwise stated," Danes answered, glowering at Raymond.

Raymond's mouth was opening and closing but no words were coming out. Finally, he glanced at where Braker was standing, where the orange Ruff tried to think of a way to hint at who he really was. He settled on creating a small orange flame with his superpowers in the shape of a wolf.

Sudden understanding dawned on Raymond as he turned back to Danes. "I'm sorry, Sir—but I did go outside to try and locate the rare herb myself, after so many of your troops failed to do so. I snuck out the back with Christie's help. This maid's other escort and I fought Sampson together and we managed to get the herb from him. I snuck back through the garden while this maid and her other escort entered via the entrance. I was going to tell you, Sir—but this wasn't the way I planned on doing so."

Danes stared at him for a long, long time. "You realize that I can confirm this story with my niece later, correct?"

Raymond nodded.

Danes stared at him for a long, long time. Finally, he said slowly, "I guess I owe you a reward then."

"Oh, there's no need, Sir—"

"Nonsense. I always reward honesty and bravery and usefulness. You've clearly demonstrated all three," the large man replied dryly. Raymond rubbed his arm uncomfortably as Danes continued: "I'll give you $1000 and something else of your request."

"Please don't punish Christie," Raymond blurted out. "She was just trying to help."

Danes stared at him for a long, long time again. "...That's your request?"

He paused, before nodding awkwardly.

"...Very well." Danes spun his big office chair around to face the window behind his desk. "For that, I reward you another grand. Do with it what you will, and do with the herbs what you must. Dismissed."

Raymond gaped at Danes.

"What are you still doing here? Dismissed," Danes said, raising an eyebrow as he glanced back at them, almost appearing amused.

Raymond clamped his mouth shut and swallowed. "Uhh, r-right. Of course, Sir. Right away, Sir." He then collected Bliss and then Braker once he was out the door and hurried them down the hallway. As they rushed towards the infirmary, he turned to Braker and demanded, "This better be good. What on earth are you thinking, sneaking in here like that unannounced? You could get yourself killed!" He spotted the orange Ruff's hesitation and added, "Don't worry about the cameras. They've been down for the last couple hours thanks to the storm."

"Okay, we'll talk when we get to your room," Braker answered. "You do have a room, don't you? They're not making you live in a doghouse or anything, are they?"

"Thank you for your concern, but I do indeed have my own room." Raymond rolled his eyes a little, although a small smile played at his lips.

The three entered the infirmary after the older man unlocked the door and ushered them inside. He quickly closed it and locked it again. "Alright, now what's all this about sneaking around pretending you guys are part of the household?"

"It was her idea," Braker declared, hopping onto the examination table.

When Raymond looked at her, she blushed and protested with a "hey!", clearly nervous and uncomfortable.

He turned back to the orange Ruff. "Okay, spill. What's going on?"

"She was concerned about—err, her...ex-boyfriend?—DJ not sending any new texts so she wanted to come in and spy on him."

"Really? That's it?" Raymond responded, jerking his head back in surprise.

"No, that is not it!" cried Bliss, jumping up. "I am not so shallow or petty as to feel the need to spy on my ex-boyfriend when he stops texting me." She paused. Okay, so I did want to come in and check on DJ because he wasn't texting me anymore, but I wasn't responding to his texts and it was angry at him and yet he wouldn't stop texting me. Until yesterday, when he just suddenly stopped saying anything altogether. I'm not asking him to pay more attention to me like some bitchy ex-girlfriend"—she paused and squeezed the basket tighter, cheeks pink as she looked down and away from the two males—"at least, I don't think I am."

You're not, Braker thought quietly. But he remained silent out loud.

She looked back up. "I just thought something might've come up and there could be something wrong."

Raymond and Braker exchanged glances. Finally, the older man sighed and got up from leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. "Well, you're close enough, I guess. We have been recently dealing with a bit of a crisis, but"—he looked at Bliss—"DJ is safe, at least."

She leaned back and sighed with relief, before asking, "So what's wrong?"

"Now that's something I'm not sure I want to share," Raymond replied, averting his gaze. "I don't want to...be charged with treason."

"Oh come on. You guys are a family, right? I doubt they can seriously execute you or something for 'treason'," Bliss responded, before pausing. "...Right?"

Braker and Raymond shared knowing looks again, and the man said, "Never mind that. I can't tell you directly what happened, but if I were to say...mistakenly let you walk free, then I'd be out of trouble and you two can snoop all you want. Just don't cause any trouble, okay? Tensions are high enough as they are."

"Got it!" Bliss jumped up. "What are we waiting for? We have to go find out some answers! Come on, Braker, let's fly—"

A knock sounded on the door and a voice asked softly, "Raymond? Are you there?"

"Errr, why yes, I am," he called back, scrambling to the door. "What's the matter?"

As the door opened, in stepped a girl with long blond hair and turquoise eyes. She looked exhausted and stressed out, as well as discouraged. It was a far cry from her usual poise.

Braker's eyes widened as part of him began panicking. "Christie...?"

She looked up in surprise. "Do I know you...?" She squinted at him.

"Uhh, no, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't," he coughed, lowering his voice. "I'm just another random guard, after all."

"But I know almost every guard here," she began saying, before Raymond interrupted.

"What's wrong, Christie?"

She glanced at Braker and Bliss before blurting out: "My uncle is seriously pissing me off! He won't let me go after Vix and Ross. I need answers!"

Raymond's gaze switched toward Bliss and Braker and he quickly cleared his throat. "Hey, Christie, let's—"

"I'm going to find them no matter what!" Christie snapped back. "Whether my Uncle lets me or not."

"What was that about Ross and...Vix?" asked Bliss, taking a step forward.

The other girl stared at her. "Wait a second... Everyone in this household already knows what happened. Unless..." Her eyes grew wide. "Raymond, are you harbouring spies!? I was just starting to trust you! How could you!?" Tears started appearing in her eyes. "Is everyone I'm starting to care about going to start betraying me!?"

Bliss gaped at her, unsure of how to react. She hadn't expected her question to trigger such a reaction.

"Christie, no! Christie, I'm so sorry; it's not what you think!" Raymond cried, bending down toward her.

"I don't know what to think!" she retorted hotly, tears streaking her face. "First Vix, then Danes, and now you? What's next, Blaster's going to tell me he hates me?"

Braker frowned, crinkling his nose. What does Blaster have to do with anything? He doesn't even really like you. I mean, sure, he cared a little when you got kidnapped by Damon, but notthat much. Jesus, lady.

"No, Christie; they're not spies," Raymond explained urgently. "I promise."

"Yeah! I'm Bliss of the Powerpuff Girls. I just wanted to check on my boyfriend DJ," Bliss explained. She retold her story.

Braker couldn't help but notice that she said "my boyfriend" this time instead of "my ex".

"...Oh. Then, umm...who's your friend?" questioned Christie, staring at Braker. She stood up slowly. "Don't tell me..."

"No, no—he's just a friend I made awhile back. His name's Blake. Err, I dragged him into spying with me because I needed a partner and someone to help keep an eye on the area," Bliss told her quickly.

Christie frowned but let it drop. "If he's a Rowdyruff Boy or something, I'll let it slide because you'd be Blaster's ally."

There it was again. That questionable attachment she appears to have with Blaster. But Braker kept his lips sealed shut.

Raymond quickly filled Christie in on his plan, involving how "she'd helped him help them get the herb from Sampson". When he finished, he added, "So if your uncle asks, please confirm the story. We can work out the details later."

"Okay," Christie sighed back, shrugging. "I need to get payback on my uncle anyway." She turned to the two orange super-powered teens. "Alright you two, go free."

"Yesss! Thank you so much!" cheered Bliss, flying into the air and doing a double-loop before pumping her fist into the air. "Oh my gosh, thank you!" Beaming, she flew towards Raymond and grabbed his hands. "This means a lot to—" But then she paused, eyes growing large as if she'd just been struck by lightening. "You..."

"Umm...Bliss?" asked Braker, wondering what was wrong. His counterpart was staying perfectly still, hands clasped around Raymond's. She wasn't moving.

"Your hands are shaking," the man added, concern flashing in his gaze as he looked down at their hands.

She continued to stare straight ahead at him. "I just realized," she said slowly, "you look so much like Damon."

The room seemed to turn to ice.

Raymond's hands twitched, immediately letting go of her own hands and reaching toward his hood.

Christie was the first to react verbally. "How do you know about Damon?" she demanded, taking a step closer toward the orange Puff.

She floated backwards, startled. "I-I'm sorry, I just—I met him by accident one day and—"

"Oh Lord," whispered Raymond, his own eyes as wide as saucers. He gripped his hood, his knuckles turning white. Inside of his chest, his heart was pounding like crazy. "I just can't escape him..."

"I-I'm sorry," Bliss continued, bewildered. She hadn't been expecting such a reaction. The words had slipped out before she could stop herself.

Christie sighed and rubbed her temples. "Okay, okay, I can live with this. By accident. Alright, I believe you. Now please go and do your little spying business before I'm forced to change my mind."

"I'm really really sorry," she said again, floating out the door slowly. She reached out as if to touch one of the two, but both of them recoiled. She drew her arms back sharply. "I—"

"Come on, Bliss—let's go," Braker muttered, grabbing her hand and dragging her out the door. He didn't look back.

But Bliss did. And the looks she saw on both Christie and Raymond's faces were so different—yet so haunting.

The two of them floated around aimlessly for awhile, until they reached two large doors that led out to part of the garden. There were pillars and fountains and hedges cut to resemble other shapes and flowers of all kind—just as one would expect from a mansion like this.

"I swear, this house is bigger than Michael's head," muttered Braker, pulling Bliss out with him.

"Michael doesn't have that big of a head," she shot back, still distracted by earlier. "Both literally and figuratively."

He snorted. He was still kind of ruffled from earlier, and he felt like they would be found out at any second. The paranoia was driving him nuts. He did wish he'd known beforehand that the cameras were down though; that would've saved him a lot of trouble. Raymond had promised they wouldn't be coming back on for awhile, as the storm had actually destroyed the chords needed to power the cameras—almost too clean to be a storm's doing, but there was no proof anyone did it on purpose.

Braker wondered if that was true...

"Braker, look! It's DJ's car."

He looked up. Sure enough, the obnoxious limo was pulling in the large driveway. "And that thing is almost as big as DJ's head," he commented snidely.

Bliss glanced at the car and then at him and the mansion. "Well, it's definitely smaller than Michael's head."

He smiled slightly, glad that she'd taken it as more of a joke this time. "That's the point," he continued, "it's just as narrow as his mind."

"Braker!" she giggled, shoving him.

He smiled, glad that he was making her laugh. But before he could continue with his tirade, Danes descended from the stairs.

"Excuse me, I do believe you owe me an explanation, Deth Jackson," the large man rumbled.

The car doors opened and out stepped DJ's father, wearing a shiny ruby necklace.

"Look at his new bauble," Braker whispered. "He probably thinks he's a dragon. I mean, he does look the part. He looks like an ugly old raptor, at least."

"Shhh!" she whispered back, stifling a giggle.

Then Sidney and DJ got out of the car, while Deth Jackson Sr spread his arms out wide and called out, "Why, what a joy it is to see you out and about, Danes! Although"—here he smiled almost mischievously—"I do believe you're going against your own word by coming out despite the house being on lockdown."

"And I believe you went against my word first," Danes countered warningly.

"Sorry, old friend, but business doesn't wait." Inspecting his suit jacket, Deth Sr flicked off what could have been a speck of dust on his shoulder. He looked up and smiled. "I had things to attend to."

"...Indeed." Danes looked down at him, raising an eyebrow. "And it really couldn't wait."

"I'm afraid not." He pulled out his wallet with a flourish. "We all have to make money, and today was certainly my lucky day." His smile grew as he snapped his wallet shut. "Surely you wouldn't deny me that?"

"You could've gotten in serious trouble," Danes continued in the same stormy voice as before.

As DJ and Sidney exchanged concerned, nervous looks, Deth Sr drew closer to the scary man and draped his arm around him. "Oh, Danes—we made it out alive, didn't we? We're safe and all's well. There's nothing to worry about."

"I swear to God, Deth Jackson..." Danes rubbed the area between his eyes and sighed. "Alright, very well. You know I can't do anything to punish you anyway. You're of too much importance for that."

"Lucky me!" he tittered.

Danes gave him a scalding look. "I'm glad you're safe," he hissed through gritted teeth, "and that you benefitted from disobeying my orders."

"I promise I won't do it again, Danesy. You know me. I follow orders to a T."

"Hey, that rhymed," Braker whispered.

"Shhh!" This time, Bliss was too focused on the conversation to giggle.

Braker frowned, a little annoyed.

"Very well." Danes turned around and commanded, "Call out the young main troops! I have to address them."

Immediately maids were by his side and then gone, flocking inside to call out the "young main troops", as Danes had called them. Braker curled his lip back.

DJ sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes just then, causing Braker to draw back nervously. He twitched his head toward where they were hiding and saw Bliss and Braker. The two of them stared back at him for what felt like a long, long time, even though it was probably only two seconds.

Finally, DJ smiled flirtatiously at Bliss before the other "young main troopers" filed out of the door and his attention was returned to Danes. Braker watched for a few seconds more, before daring to look down at his counterpart.

Her mouth had fallen open. "Did he just...flirt with me!?" she demanded.

"Whoa, down, girl," he whispered back.

"He has a girlfriend! Me! And he's flirting with other girls? With me! That's just so wrong!"

"Uhh, you did break up with him, right?"

"I told him we'd take a break!" she retorted, still staring at the forming line.

"...Sounds like he's not the only one thirsty for you two to get back together," Braker finally remarked dryly.

Bliss fell silent after that.

Braker turned his attention haughtily back towards the crowd of teens ahead of them. A part of him felt a little bitter, but he buried that feeling deep down inside of himself. The teens all stood in a straight line formation, backs straight and heads high.

There was DJ and Sidney, of course... And Christie...and Michael...and even Cassandra, among others. But there were two missing.

Ross and Vix.

Braker could kind of understand Vix missing. Maybe Danes didn't trust him enough for this meeting or something. But Ross? He was an essential part of the team. And Braker doubted they'd ever leave him out. Did he not want to be there? Was he out or something?

Before he could really think about it any further, Sydney arrived, looking grumpy. She joined the ranks with her arms folded. She stood in a clearly well-practiced military stance, adding to the straight backs and straight faces. However, her expression held the slightest hint of a scowl.

Danes watched her slide into the line. "Report. How did your missions go?" he ordered, looking at the three teens who'd just gotten back.

Christie folded her arms at the mention of missions, turning her head away angrily. Michael glanced at her in concern.

"It went...subpar," DJ confided, looking less confident than usual. But it was obvious that Sidney wouldn't speak up out of fear and Sydney wouldn't speak up out of grumpiness.

"Explain," Danes commanded.

DJ looked around. It was obvious no one else was going to speak up, considering Sydney's sulking and Sidney's immense shyness, so he finally admitted, "I'd say it was rather...lacklustre in success." His voice was a lot less smooth or bouncy than it usually was, and he seemed tense and nervous; a far cry from his smug, confident persona.

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?" he rumbled.

"We did see the target in question, but"—here he stole a quick look at Sydney, who just rolled her eyes and looked away—"he knew Sydney was there and chased us off. We didn't approach as per your command, but he let us know we were there in a rather unconventional matter." He glanced at Sydney with a look that said "you owe me for covering for your ass", who snorted and looked away, glaring at nothing in particular.

"It wasn't as bad as you made it out to be," she muttered back.

"Hmm." Danes narrowed his eyes. "Well, that was rather lacklustre indeed."

DJ bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Sir."

Danes narrowed his harsh eyes at both of them. "I'm disappointed in the two"—he paused, seemingly just remembering that invisible, cowering Sidney was part of the team—"the three of you. I specifically told you to be careful and not to engage him in contact."

"We didn't engage in any contact," Sydney retorted. "Or I would've ripped him to shreds."

Danes looked down at her disapprovingly. "Well, that solves nothing. The problem still stands."

"Yeah," Michael agreed, "we still don't know what's become of our friends. What if he is responsible? Will anyone else be targeted?"

His uncle gazed at him for a few heartbeats, before turning around. "I won't let him," he growled. "I won't let him take anyone else I care about."

Everyone shared concerned, knowing looks.

"You are all dismissed. I will organize further patrols later, when I get the chance. For now, we must remain vigilant and back off because he will be expecting an attack," Danes continued.

The older man spun around. "You are all to stay in your rooms until further notice."

"But we can't just sit back and wait!" exclaimed Sydney, stepping forward and thrusting her hand out.

"Sydney..." The large, gray-haired man narrowed his eyes down at her. "You're already on thin ice. Enough."

"I don't care!" she cried. "I want to find them—"

"Enough!" he barked. "Stand down."

She clenched her jaw and took a step back begrudgingly, folding her arms.

As she sulked, Danes sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes. "I wish you ladies would stop disobeying my orders," he muttered, before shooting a look at Deth Jackson Sr, who was watching with amusement.

"Who, me? A lady?" DJ's father smiled, batting his eyes. "Why Danes, you flatter me."

"...I never said you were an attractive lady," he retorted dryly.

"Oh snap," whispered DJ, as Deth Sr's face went serious and annoyed for once.

Satisfied he'd gotten back at the relaxed father, Danes continued: "Alright, hurry back into your rooms until further instruction."

"Why are we wasting time sitting on our asses when there's so much at stake!?"

Every head whirled around toward Sydney, who'd just stepped forward, thrusting her hand out. Immediately the crowd began tittering, probably wondering how she was so insane as to disobey Danes. DJ shot her brother a look that asked exactly that.

"Excuse me?" Danes rumbled, his eyes narrowing darkly.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm sure you know what's at stake and yet you're having all of us sit in our rooms hosting little tea parties, not doing anything to fix this problem. I'm afraid you're not doing enough to solve this."

"Are you questioning my authority?"

"So what if I am?" she retorted. "I believe you need to hear what I have to say."

He narrowed his eyes. "And I believe you don't know what you're talking about. Dismissed. All of you."

Every teen bowed before scurrying off, probably eager to return to slumping and chatting and being away from Danes' watchful eye. The only one who stayed behind was Sydney, and the others glanced back, all wondering what would go down. Some felt pity for her, while others were rolling their eyes or whispering or making snarky comments. The rest were just questioning how crazy she really was. As everyone ran off, Sydney approached Danes. "I wish you'd hurry things up," she said loudly.

When Danes turned around and saw her still standing there, he raised an eyebrow. "I believe I've already dismissed you," he stated flatly.

"How do you not realize the implications of your actions?" she cried. "Can't you see the consequences?"

"Oh?" He leaned down until they were at eye-level. "Are you telling me how to run my household, little girl?"

"Maybe I am," she snapped back. "If it were Michael or Christie missing, I'm sure you'd be going nuts. Hell, I bet you'd be letting their parents step all over you, old man."

Danes stood back up, curling his lip back, showing off his sharp teeth. Sydney had clearly overstepped a boundary. "Little. Girl," he snarled, "I run a very delicate household. You wouldn't be able to even begin to comprehend the caution a leader must take with his army of residents. I'd. Appreciate. It. If. You. Stopped. Bothering. Me."

"I'll stop when you actually start caring!" she retorted hotly. "Lives are at stake here and you're just sitting back letting these things happen."

"I'd rather not risk the life of every single resident under my watch," he replied calmly.

"But you're willing to risk the life of one boy in return? You're going to get him killed—"

He whirled around. "Enough!" he hissed, eyes flashing warningly. "You know nothing of the responsibilities or pressures of being a leader with so many people under your care. You don't know the repercussions or the consequences that follow every decision you make, where you must take into account the well-being of everyone—not just a single favoured resident. So I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop talking about matters you clearly have little to no understanding in."

She grabbed his arm. "We need to get him back—!"

"What will get my message through your skull?" he snapped, glowering down at her. "I am not sending in any troops at the current moment with such little information and so much at risk. Do you understand?" He shook her off. "So. Please. Shut. Your. Mouth."

Sydney leaned forward. "No! I will stand for what I believe in. And I believe you need to send out more troops. Now."

"I've been doing my best to solve this mystery—"

"Well, you're not trying hard enough!" she interrupted.

Danes stared back down at her, nostrils flaring. "Little girl, you are out of line. If you do not wish to give me any more cause to punish you, then I suggest you return to your room because you clearly don't understand what you're talking about."

"I understand that one of my friends are in danger!" she retorted.

"One of your friends? Or your former crush?" he growled back.

Sydney froze.

He snorted at her lack of a reaction. "You've been dismissed. Good day." He made a move to walk away, but she jumped back to life.

"I'm not going to just sit back and pretend it's a good day! If you won't send people out to search for him, I'll go myself!"

"Do I need to have a talk with your parents? Personally?" he snarled, baring his teeth and showing off his sharp canines.

"There's no need for that. What you need to do is send more search parties out," she retorted hotly. Then she added, "I'm not afraid of you."

"I do not need to do anything of your request. However, I would be happy to have you learn a little lesson about respect."

"I don't care! Danes, you're going to get him killed! Don't you realize that?"

Danes stared at her for a long, long time. Finally, he said very slowly, "Humph. Perhaps you have a point. But I will tell you this, batty little girl—question my authority like that again and we will have issues. I'll have to talk to your parents." He bared his teeth. "Personally."

"You don't scare me," she countered.

"Hm. That's your own issue, then," he responded flatly, turning away. "May I ask, however, why this case is so particularly interesting for you?"

"I told you," she said, "lives are at risk—"

"Or do you only care because Ross is involved?"

The question hit home. Sydney flinched. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He stared at her for what seemed like a long time. Then his lips twitched. "I'll admit, I'm impressed by the ferocity of your attitude. Annoyed, but also impressed. I can forgive you for your insubordination." He glanced back at her, his cold, stony eyes flashing a hint of emotion as he added, "I appreciate your feedback."

Sydney stared back at him defiantly, even though she was beginning to tremble. "I'm glad to hear that," she replied slowly.

"Indeed." Danes regained his composure. "Thank you for your comments. I admire your spirit, little one." He paused. "...Very well. I will take your words into consideration on one condition."

Sydney's relieved face fell as she frowned in suspicion. "Like what?"

"You are suspended from any more missions until further notice," he stated.

"What!?" Her mouth fell open. "For how long!?"

"Oh, maybe a day or two—or a week. Who knows?"

"Excuse me!?"

"I do need to punish insubordination somehow, my dear," he droned, looking a little amused. "And this is much better than having me talk to your parents, is it not?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a hint of amusement in his voice, gaze, and lips. "I'm sure you won't mind."

Sydney gritted her teeth. "Yes," she hissed. "So much better."

"Good. I'm glad we have come to an understanding." Danes began walking away. "Dismissed."

Sydney snapped her jaw shut, frustration clear on her face. "Fine," she responded icily.

"Fantastic." He waved his hand. "Now, I believe you've been dismissed for the final time today." Danes walked off.

She glared after him, and when it was clear he was long gone, she stomped her foot down in the grass and let out a frustrated yell. "Ugh! That man is just asking to get on my nerves! How dare he!? I'd like to wipe that smug look off his stupid face." She paused, glaring at the ground. "So I disobeyed him and questioned his authority. He deserved it! He was being a big asshole, even if he is our commander."

Bliss and Braker exchanged confused, concerned glances. The conversation had added a lot of insight, but not a lot of information. Something was obviously very wrong, though.

"How could he care so little?" she growled.

"We better go," Braker hissed, tugging on Bliss' arm.

"Wait," she whispered back.

He waited, or tried to, rather impatiently. What else is there to see here? he wondered. "Bliss, come on. If we get caught—"

"Shhh," she murmured.

Meanwhile, back to the field ahead of them, Sydney sighed. "Besides, shouldn't more people than just me care when Ross and even Vix are missing?"

Braker and Bliss both froze at her words.

---

"There. That's the last of that one." Banana set down the dress in her hands after knotting the stitch.

"Another one done! That's great," Bunny replied softly, looking up from her own project.

The yellow Puff smiled at her sister, before glancing down at the dress. She still remembered that just a few days ago, Michael had come waltzing back into her life. She hadn't heard much from him since he'd awoken though; there was some sort of awkward air between the two now and they sort of avoided each other at school. It wasn't like they were deliberately going out of their way to hide from the other (or at least Banana wasn't, and Michael seemed like he actually wanted her company—for the most part), but rather they'd low-key duck out of the way or pretend they didn't notice the other. And the other didn't bother pointing anything out, even going along with the whole thing because they also felt awkward and kind of weird. It was like everything was a little off.

She shut her eyes. No, I'm not going to think about that. I need to focus on this project. I need to— "Ow!"

"Banana, are you okay?" gasped her sister, flying over. The purple Puff was already holding up a bandage.

Not answering right away, Banana stared down at the red liquid bubbling up from her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut. "What is wrong with me?" she finally asked, her voice hoarse.

Bunny looked up. "Bansy...?"

"I...I can't even sew anymore." Not sure why, the yellow Puff could feel tears reaching her eyes. "I'm so pathetic."

"No, no you're not!" her sister cried urgently, wiping away the blood. "Why would you say that?"

"What's happened to me?" Banana used her free hand to cover her face. "I've been failing...at everything I do."

"But Banana, you're amazing! You always have good grades and you're so fashionable and you have a boyfriend!"

"But sewing is my talent! Why am I always pricking myself now?" She clenched her hand tighter. "If I'm so amazing, then why doesn't he think so?"

"What...?" Bunny dropped the small roll of bandages as she looked up.

The room fell eerily silent. Banana felt her face begin to burn, and her shoulders grew rigid. Bunny looked like she was struggling to find something to say, but Banana closed her eyes and wished she wouldn't say anything.

Finally, Bunny clenched her mouth shut and finished bandaging the small wound. She floated back to her desk.

Banana stared after her, feeling like a void had opened up inside of her—or an even bigger one inside the one she already felt like she had. "Bunny, I—"

"You're amazing, Bansy. I just wish you'd see that," she said softly.

She turned quiet, not able to find anything to say back. So Bunny picked up the clothes she was sewing as Banana looked down.

They worked in silence for a long while, but soon Bunny was finished. "I have to go," she proclaimed quietly, already gathering her supplies and getting up.

Banana stood up too, feeling guilty. "Bunny, I'm sorry—"

"It's okay. I know how you feel. I just thought you were more confident than this." She floated over to the yellow Puff, who flinched. Bunny took her sister's hand and gave it a squeeze, causing her to look up in surprise. Bunny smiled. "It's okay to doubt yourself. I know what you're going though, and I'm not going to blame you or tell you to get over it. But you're amazing, Bansy, and you don't need a boy's approval to verify that."

Her eyes began watering but before she could answer, the door opened and in stepped a blond boy wearing a yellow sweater, looking down at the ground with a bag slung over his shoulder.

He looked up and froze at the scene in front of him. The yellow Powerpuff Girl sitting, her hands being held by her sister, the purple Powerpuff Girl. He glanced from her to Bunny to the heap of fabric on the desk "...Banana; Bunny?" he finally asked, before pausing. "Are you...crying?"

"N-No." She turned away and quickly wiped her eyes, pulling her hands away from her sister at the same time. She whispered a quick "thank you" before shoving the dress aside, trying to cover it up.

Bunny smiled slightly. "You're welcome," she whispered back, before walking past the newcomer. "I'll see you two tomorrow!" She'd already hidden the dress she was working on, so she wasn't worried about him seeing it.

He watched her go, and when she was gone, he walked to Banana's side. "Long time no see, huh?"

"We see each other all the time at school," she responded, before feeling annoyed at herself for sounding prickly.

He smiled his soft smile. "Technicalities, Bansy. But alright; long time no talk."

"Yeah." She looked down.

"So what brings you here? Do you have a project you need to finish?" he asked, picking a table and pulling up a chair.

She glanced at her work-in-progress. "I guess you could say that."

"Cool! Can I see what you're working on? I need some ideas—"

"No!" she said quickly; too quickly.

He paused, looking at her in surprise. "Pardon...?"

"No, I'm sorry... I-It's still in development stage and all of it looks like crap right now."

"Oh, I doubt that. You always make such beautiful clothes." He smiled almost in a disappointed manner and looked back down at the fabric in front of him. "That's alright. I won't pry; I understand your sentiments, after all."

"Thank you," she murmured.

"No problem," he answered. "So, what do you want to talk about? We might have a lot to catch up on—"

"Why are you acting like this?" she blurted out.

"What...?" He blinked at her. "This wasn't the subject I was expecting, but okay..."

Banana's cheeks heated up as she quickly added, "Sorry, I just meant that... Why are you trying to be so nice to me?"

He set down his needle. "That definitely makes it sound better," he remarked sarcastically. "We're friends, of course I'm being nice to you." His gaze softened. "What do you really mean, Bansy?"

"I just—you saw me! That time you were kissed by Christie, I was there, and—and aren't you wondering why?"

"I just figured you were stalking me because you like me so much, of course," he replied cheerfully.

She frowned at him.

"Oh relax! I was just joking—"

"Blaster!" she cried. "Why can't you take this seriously? Why are you acting like it never happened?"

The yellow Ruff froze, blinking. "I-I'm sorry, I hadn't realized you felt so strongly about this..."

Embarrassed, Banana pulled back and shoved her hand up in her blond bangs. "No, I'm sorry... I just—it was so awkward, and yet you're acting like nothing's wrong..."

"Probably because I didn't think there was anything wrong?" he responded. "I mean, wouldn't you prefer this over me avoiding you?"

"I-I don't know," she finally answered truthfully.

"I've seen the way you and Michael have been around each other," he added. "If that was my fault, then I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to affect your relationship; I wasn't expecting that fiasco with Christie and Vix either. I get if Michael hates my guts for it, but I didn't think you'd want to avoid me too—"

"No! It's not like that..." She paused, before murmuring under her breath, "Or at least, it's not your fault the way you think it is."

"What...?"

Louder, she said quickly, "I mean, that's not why Michael and I have been acting so weird around each other lately. It's more like...he's been gone for so long, it's just been kind of awkward having him back after such a long time. I am happy he's back, don't get me wrong! But...now it just feels like there's always something...off between us."

"Like what?" he questioned gently, furrowing his brow in concern.

"That's...That's for us to discuss privately," she answered. "What about you and Christie? Are you two officially a thing now?"

"That's for us to discuss privately," he replied, repeating her words.

Her face burned red. "Okay, okay, fine; I get I'm being—"

"No, no; sorry. That was insensitive of me." He glanced down at his work. "Truth is, I don't know."

"What...? But she confessed to you and everything! Didn't you decide right then and there?"

He laughed slightly. "Maybe if you hadn't run off while we were kissing, you would've seen what had happened after."

Banana blushed. "I-I didn't want to intrude."

"I know." He smiled. "Well, after our kiss was over, she shooed Vix off and told me I didn't have to decide if I reciprocated her feelings right away. We parted on that understanding. I..." He paused, running a hand through his soft blond hair. "I've been thinking about it a lot."

"...Oh." Banana looked down. "So...how do you feel about her?"

"I-I don't know. It's...complicated." Blaster let out a little sigh. "I mean, she is beautiful and kind and smart and brave and amazing, but there's a lot of...other stuff getting in the way. And even then, figuring out how I really feel about her has been a lot harder than I expected. I definitely like her a lot, but I just haven't figured out whether or not I really like her like her, as cliché as it sounds. I enjoy her company and seeing her smile makes me happy, but...I don't know. Love is weird, and complex, and the heart is indecisive."

Banana didn't say anything, feeling as if she was intruding just by listening to him vent his worries to her.

"Christie's amazing. She's practically beyond me. And yet, I can't help but feel like there's something holding me back from seeing her as a love interest. Wait, let me rephrase that. I do like her a lot, and would be more than happy to date her, and she's super cool, but there's something that is tangling all of my feelings up. I'm not friendzoning her at all. I can definitely see us together, but there's just...something there."

"Your feelings sound pretty confirmed to me," Banana sniffed, not liking how indignant her own voice sounded.

He blinked at her, looking as if he'd forgotten she was there and that he was telling her all this. He blushed. "...N-Never mind. I'm just being weird. My heart's really confusing haha," he added, trying to laugh it off.

"No, I'm sorry; I'm being insensitive." She was regretting her words from earlier already. "It's not that I don't think you should date Christie. I guess I'm just—umm..."

He stared at her.

She blushed. She wasn't jealous, right? And she had a boyfriend. Maybe she just didn't like people showing public affection? That part was true, but she was never bothered by her friends and family's displays of affection—at least, that was mostly true.

So finally, Blaster voiced what she was thinking: "I guess you just don't like talking about relationships, right?"

She coughed awkwardly. "I...I guess so."

"Well, sorry for talking about it then," he offered.

"I was the one who asked," she responded, her face reddening.

He chuckled. "Oh right, I guess that's true. I guess that means I didn't need to apologize, then."

"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed. She felt like hiding her face in her hands. "Well, this is...awkward."

"Yes, it kind of is," he agreed, still looking like he was trying to hold back laughter. "Ehh, I'm not quite sure why I'm here anyway. I originally wanted to work on one of my projects, but I haven't got much done, and I should get home soon. Brick, Him, and Mojo are gonna worry."

"Oh yeah, the Professor would want me to get home soon too," she added, glad for the change in subject. "It's almost 7:00."

"I swear your curfew is so early," he laughed.

"I know. It's like he's treating me as a kid!" she agreed. "I swear, I can totally handle myself."

"Well, I can understand the sentiment of wanting to protect you," Blaster responded, smiling.

Banana blushed, feeling her heartbeat quickened. Why is this happening to me...?

"Alright, I should go." She was wondering if it were just the lighting or her imagination, but was his face reddening too? He got up an began making his way towards the door. He paused when his hand was hovering over the doorknob, and he turned around to smile at her. "Be safe out there, Bansy. I'd protect you if I could."

He closed the door behind him and the light above her flickered. Banana stared after him, her cheeks slowly turning more and more red. What did he mean by that...? she wondered.

She bunched up the fabric on the dress she'd been working on, before finally sighing and closing her eyes. Then she turned back to her work and kept sewing. While her emotions were still muddled, she could feel a new determination wriggling around inside of her, telling her to keep working.

So Banana worked and worked for two more hours, all by herself, having turned on some music in the background. She sewed intently, completely focused and no longer pricking her finger. When she'd finally finished, she blinked, almost surprised that there was nothing else to work on.

She stared at her new creations, a kind of sad excitement bubbling up inside of her. Those very feelings of desperation and fluttering nerves made her reach for the phone and type out a text. After she finished editing and re-editing the words, she stared at her screen and pondered her next action. Bunny had told her she didn't need validation from a guy to prove that she was "amazing". I know that, she thought, clenching the fabric in her hands. I'm not making these for his validation, I'm making these to make him feel validated—because he was so sad when he'd made these.

And yet, a small part of herself knew that wasn't the truth—at least, not the whole truth—not anymore. The keyword was that "he was sad".

He's not sad now though.

She squeezed her eyes shut, thumb hovering over the send button as she tried to dislodge the thought from her subconscious. Despite her efforts, the next words came roaring in her ears:

But I am.

And then she pressed "send".

---

It was dark.

He'd never been afraid of the dark. After all, he'd been named after it. He'd been born into it. He'd lived his whole life in darkness, and when his parents died, it had been the darkness that surrounded him.

But he'd never felt lonely or scared or depressed when it was dark. The darkness was serene, gentle, calm—it was the time of predictability; people went to sleep and the nocturnals were free to roam. It was the time for hunters; from bats to owls. Darkness was his whole life.

He heard about the news; about the criminals and the horrible things that happened after dark. But those weren't the result of Mother Nature's night—they were the result of the humans' cruel and twisted nature...a nature he had never really appreciated. Most people were innocent, yes, but he knew firsthand the darkness that people could fester. And that darkness was nothing beautiful like the one Mother Nature could produce. There was no moonlight, no stars, no crisp night air.

Human darkness was a smog, consuming and choking and stifling. It enveloped the person and took control of them, turning their view twisted. It was nothing to be admired. In fact, he made sure to wipe such scum from the earth, polishing the world to keep it from staining that terrible, horrible, man-made black.

Perhaps it was poetic. Perhaps it was cliché. Either way, he'd always known that darkness could mean different things, both negative and posturing and neutral.

This darkness... This darkness was neutral. He wasn't quite sure how he knew; he just did. Perhaps it was the fact that he felt like he was floating in an endlessly dark terrain, with nothing to see. Only his conscious was there to keep him company.

And he wasn't one to get lonely. Yet, inside that neutral darkness, he could feel the small scratch of loneliness' claws etch themselves into his skin. It was light, but it was there. He felt like he was missing something, as if he'd lost a piece of himself somewhere along that empty nothingness.

So he looked. He opened his eyes and saw darkness. He glanced down and could barely make out the soft silhouette of his hand against the black. He looked whole. But looks could be deceiving. He didn't feel whole, and if his training had taught him anything, trusting one's gut got you a lot further than just guessing based on appearance.

He blinked and lifted his head. He began shuffling through memories, trying to find the one that would ignite his spark. It took awhile, but when he saw a brilliant white flash, he knew he'd found the one.

When the light disappeared, he saw that his memory had presented him with a girl.

She had brown hair and eyes like the starry night sky. Her smile was so shy yet so beautiful, gentle and serene like a little butterfly. Her voice had been a melody, soft and kind, and her love had been a warm blanket that kept him from the cold.

She was light. She was his light.

He remembered more darkness, more pain, more sadness before he'd met her. He remembered being emotionless or stone-cold, acting like a statue. He remembered carrying out his duties without any other alternate goals or hopes, except to get back at the kind of people who'd hurt his parents.

Yet, she'd come into his life, reminding him that darkness wasn't just suffocating—it was beautiful too. She had become his moonlight, offering to heal him and trust him. And in turn, he had begun to trust her. It was an all-new feeling for him; he'd been cold for so long, feeling love had been so sweet. He yearned to be with her and feel her in his arms and feel her warmth and keep her safe. He knew he'd always protect her, no matter what. The thought came like instinct, as if he'd been born with it.

But he supposed that was what love did to you. It could come soft and gentle, a feather landing on your lap, but its beauty was so brilliant you couldn't just ignore it.

So why...why was it, that even with all these happy memories coming back to him, he still remembered a flicker of bleak darkness in the light? Had his moon gone out? Had she eclipsed and never come back? Why did he remember pain and hurt when he thought of her, even though she was his moonbeam?

He stood, watching as she manifested in front of him in a brilliant white flash. He stared. She shone like the sun, blinding and bright and beautiful. He had to look away, yet her warmth radiated against his cold skin even then. He squeezed his eyes shut. Her loveliness was breathtaking, but it was also blinding. It was sharp and almost painful. The air had suddenly become too clear; he was gulping it in and it stung his lungs. When he tried to reach out and touch her, her light burned his skin.

He pulled his arm back, starting to wonder what was going on. Why was his moonbeam becoming a harmful flame? What had gone wrong?

Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the blinding, white light and forced his hand in. He gritted his teeth against the searing pain, feeling the intense heat burn his flesh. Gasping, he finally managed to grab her wrist and pull her close. He forced open his eyes.

She was almost pure light now. Her eyes were white. He could see himself being reflected in them, a darkened silhouette.

"Bunny," he gasped.

And suddenly every perfect, painful memory came flooding back.

It was so bright; too bright—blinding, painfully sharp and crystal clear, every shard of memory stabbing into his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, crying out in pain despite his best efforts to fight against it, before his eyes flashed open.

It was dark.

He sat up, panting. He felt warm and cold all at the same time. Swallowing, he threw off the blankets and tested out his legs. They felt wobbly—unbalanced. Teetering briefly, he managed to grasp ahold of the nightstand and pull himself together. He looked around.

He was in his room. Or at least, his room in Michael's house. And it was just as dark as he had left it. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he stepped cautiously towards the window. He threw open the curtains and flinched as sunlight came pouring in, blinding him immediately. He squinted against the light, feeling like it was burning his skin.

That was why he'd always preferred the moon over the sun. One was far less likely to harm him than the other.

"It's so dark in here."

He turned around at the new voice. "Michael..."

"I see you're awake," his friend said, walking in and sitting down in the chair next to his bed. "I'm glad."

"How long have I been out?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, a few days. A little more than two..."

"'More than two'?" he repeated blankly, staring at his friend.

Michael ducked his head. "Yeah," he confirmed quietly. "I'm sorry, bro."

He let out a sigh, rubbing the area between his eyes. "Of course when my body gives out, it has to give out for more than two days," he muttered.

Seemingly surprised at his usually emotionless friend's brief sign of emotion, Michael added, "Well, at least you're better now! Truth is, we need all the warriors we can get right now."

He paused, turning his head sharply towards his friend. "Why. What happened?" he asked, wording it more like a statement.

"Well, uhh..." He scratched the back of his head nervously. "Err, you see..."

"Michael," he said warningly.

"RossandVixhavebothgonemissing!" he finally blurted out quickly.

He froze. "What...?"

"Yes. They've both gone missing." Michael looked away. "I'm sorry this had to happen while you were unconscious."

He didn't reply, closing his eyes. It was too much. The suffocating darkness was consuming him again. "Who did it?" he growled.

Starting, his friend stared at him, nervous at the sudden sign of anger. "Well, we're 90% sure it's Damon, but..."

"But the household, especially the higher-ups, is suspecting Vix," he concluded with a low growl. "Of course they are."

Michael nodded. "Even though Vix has proven himself time and time again, and Ross would never want us to blame him. He's part of the gang, even if he's not the most cooperative member. I mean, heck; he was the one who retrieved you from enemy territory after you failed to come back."

"I see." He narrowed his dark-blue eyes. "Michael, get me some clothes. I need to head out."

"But you were damaged really badly—"

"Now."

Sighing, his friend got up and went looking through his neatly organized closet. Meanwhile, he himself headed into the washroom, still feeling clunky and awkward after staying in bed for a few days straight. He cleaned himself up, and when he finished, he stared at his reflection. It stared back, with black hole eyes just like his.

"Hey, is this okay?"

He turned around. Michael was standing in the doorway, holding up a black jacket and a black t-shirt and black pants. "That's fine, thank you," he responded.

As he took the clothes and began to get dressed, Michael's voice drifted through the bathroom door. "You sure about this? You've been out for a little while, so you might be rusty."

"Gotta start again sometime," he grunted.

"Yeah, but what about your injuries? You got slashed up pretty badly."

"Gotta make up for that sometime."

"What about opening old wounds?"

"Gotta fight back sometime." He shrugged into his shirt. "Might as well start sooner than later." Once finished with the shirt, he picked up the jacket and stared at it in his hands. "...Might as well start now."

"And what about Danes' orders?"

He paused. "What orders?"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to mention: my uncle has the whole place under lockdown. We had a party last night to celebrate my return, but none of the guests have gone home. Heck, no one is to leave unless you have a mission—"

"Then I have a mission."

"No, I mean like a mission assigned by my uncle—"

"Then have him assign me one." He opened the door and stepped out, meeting his friend's turquoise gaze. "I'm going, and that's that."

Michael gazed back seriously. Finally, he whispered, "I don't want to lose any more of my friends."

"...I know. I promise you won't lose me," he responded.

Michael sighed and closed his eyes. "Alright, fine. You have a mission. Find Vix and Ross."

"Exactly what I intend to do." He paused, before bowing his head. "Thank you."

"No, thank you, man—for all your service. I'm sorry to have had to inconvenience you after you just woke up," Michael responded.

"Hey." He paused in the doorway, glancing back at his friend. "Gotta start sometime." He smiled the smallest of smiles before walking out of the room.

Meanwhile, Michael was left wondering, Did he just smile at me...? Wow...

And back with the boy who didn't smile often, he was walking down the hallways toward the large, double doors that serve as a main exit and entrance. He had every intention of scouring every corner of Townsville until he found Vix and Ross, even if it meant confronting Damon.

He pulled out his phone. It had very little battery left, but after he got past the warning telling him to plug his phone in, he was surprised to see the lock screen. A little bubble was telling him that he had 108 missed texts. Some of it was from his other friends or clients or whatnot, but a lot of them were from...well, her.

Bunny. His moonbeam.

He felt his heart tighten briefly despite the fact he was usually pretty emotionless—or rather, good at keeping said emotions hidden and under control. The sharp memories pricked him as he thought back to the text he'd accidentally sent. He wondered what she'd sent in reply since then. He unlocked his phone.

"'Are you there? I want to talk. Please, contact me.'"

"'I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore, but at least tell me so yourself.'"

"'Why weren't you at school today? What's wrong?'"

"'Where have you gone?'"

"'Michael and Ross and the gang won't tell me anything except that you're sick. Are they telling the truth?'"

"'You aren't...ditching school just to avoid me, are you? You wouldn't do that.'"

"'Would you?'"

He stared at his phone screen, feeling icy guilt grip his veins. He shut his eyes. I'm sorry, my little Bunny. I'm sorry I kept you waiting and guessing when I never meant to do so.

I care about you with all my being and wish to keep you safe. I really do.

"Hey, kid! What do you think you're doing!?"

He opened his eyes. Guess I'll have to deal with this later. His grip tightened on his phone before he slipped it into his pocket and turned around smoothly. "Can I help you?" he asked flatly.

The guard who'd called out stalked over to him, eyes narrowed. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"I have a mission from Danes," he replied swiftly, keeping his face straight.

The soldier hesitated. "Can you prove this?"

He narrowed his dark eyes. "Are you questioning whether or not I am telling the truth?"

"I simply want some proof. After Master Deth Jackson Sr snuck out of the house, Master Danes has requested all his soldiers with assigned missions to provide evidence—usually a piece of paper with his signature."

He frowned, eyes flicking back to Michael's room. This might be a problem. Out loud, he responded, "I am very much so aware of that. I just dislike being questioned."

Just then, Michael came running, waving a sheet of paper. "I'm sorry; when I told you about this mission Uncle wanted to give you, I totally forgot to hand this to you!"

He reached out and took the slip of paper. "Ah, good. This guard here was wondering where mine was. I would've asked you why you didn't give me one, but I didn't want to keep Master Danes waiting when it was an order from him."

Panting, his friend winked at him and added, "Yeah, I know what you mean. My uncle can be really cranky when he doesn't get what he wants on time. Like...really cranky. You know him, calm and poised until he doesn't get what he requested—then he's angry, but it's like this terrifyingly chilly anger..."

"Yes," he agreed. "Like ice. Quite scary indeed. I am worried that even being a minute too slow will trigger his rage."

"I know right? I can't even guarantee he'll be satisfied if you complete it on time. You're gonna need to be extra fast," Michael agreed dramatically. "Or else he might just take it out on the whole household. And if he ever finds out who was an obstacle to your mission, that person might just be flayed alive!"

The guard frowned, now looking nervous for having kept them from leaving. He quickly looked the sheet over and handed it back to them. "Alright, this looks legitimate; carry on."

The two boys were quick to dash off. When they were outside the house, the dark-haired boy finally looked at the paper. It read: "'I, Danes Hawthorne, hereby assign Deth Jr to a mission'"with his signature. The names were filled in on blank lines, but the "Deth Jr" part had been purposefully smudged. He glanced at Michael. "I wouldn't have expected this to work. Good on you for taking a risk."

"Yeah, I was kinda worried too. But that guard is particularly dumb. DJ got assigned another mission immediately after his last one, but he was just in the garden picking herbal plants with Raymond." Michael picked up the pace. "That guard's not particularly bright and really afraid of Danes, so I thought of spook him into hurrying before I handed the paper over." He smirked. "Hell, he even let me out with you."

"Oh yeah, wouldn't your uncle find out and get all freaked out?" he questioned.

"Don't worry about it; we'll be quick." Michael shrugged it off. "We're just going to scope Damon's cabin out, right? I want to take a look for myself because I won't be allowed to leave the house for awhile. Besides, who wants to stay cooped up all day?"

"Hm," he responded blankly, focused on running.

The two ran in silence for awhile, before skidding to a stop before a forest. "Well, here we are," Michael announced.

"Yes. We're going to have to sneak towards his house." His companion made the first move, carefully racing forward, his friend not far behind.

"I wonder if he's home. He faced Sidney, Sydney, and DJ earlier today," he remarked quietly.

"We'll just have to wait and see," he murmured back, leaping up into the treetops.

The two fell silent, flying through the trees, each wondering whether or not this "mission" would end in disaster. Would Ross and Vix be there? Would Damon be there? Could they handle him? Should they just try their best to avoid contact?

Stopping in front of the field before Damon's cabin, he and Michael nodded at each other. Then they carefully leaped down into the grass, slowly slithering forward like snakes after prey. The sun shone behind them, far too bright for either of their tastes—only serving to remind them that despite the happy weather, a storm was brewing.

He prevented Michael from getting any closer when they were a few feet away from the cabin by blocking his friend with his arm. "Shhh," he warned.

Michael swallowed, nodding nervously.

The two waited. They weren't sure what they were waiting for, but they waited.

A few moments later, Damon appeared. He was dressed in his usual green cloak, the hood pulled over his head. He was dragging a dead rabbit behind him. Both boys curled their lips back when they smelled the blood.

Damon was humming, but as he neared his cabin, his voice grew louder and formed words:

"Oh, how fun it is to hunt and kill,

Watch the blood as it pours;

Oh, how fun it is to snap a neck,

And watch as the body hits the floor.

How accomplished it feels to witness death and despair,

And see yourself come out on top.

Oh, how mediating it is to see life be cruel and fair.

There's nothing like a good kill to bring the wolves home.

I am the alpha,

The alpha wolf,

I am the loner,

The loner wolf."

He then paused, looking up. The sunlight hit his face just right, showing gleaming golden eyes that glowed beneath the shadows of his hood, and a sharp-toothed grin. Blood splattered his cheek, covering some of his burn scars. "Did you like my poem, boys?" he singsonged.

They froze.

"Oh, don't be so shy. I know you're there. I can smell you." His nose twitched. "You could say...I'm still in hunting mode. Come on out, boys."

They didn't move.

Damon narrowed his eyes. "Come on out," he repeated in a flat growl. Humming, he raised a gun and sang, "Oh, how fun it is to shoot sneaky little bastards in the head, like it's all fun and games; oh, how fun it is to watch the lives of their friends go on ignorantly, like everything's still the same." He paused. "Would you like to know why?" He giggled. "Because you're all forgettable, replaceable little shits who don't matter in the long run. Now get up or I shoot."

Michael and his friend swapped glances before they both nodded and jumped up. Michael held his hands out. "Whoa, whoa; okay there, big guy. There's no need to shoot, even if it's...'fun'." He spat the last word out in disgust, no doubt remembering when he himself had gotten shot, most likely by the very man standing in front of them.

The very man keeping a gun pointed at him. "Oh wow, I hit the jackpot, huh? It's none other than that little bitch Danes' nephew. If I killed you now, all chaos would erupt, would it not? But you could say I'd win in the end."

"What happened to be me being small and insignificant?" Michael challenged.

Damon laughed. "Oh, that was before I knew you were Michael. I mean, sure—the Earth still doesn't give two shits about you, but at least your family does. A lot of shits, actually." He smiled. "And if I kill you, I'd break that family. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Michael shuddered. "No, that would not be very nice," he countered.

Damon shrugged. "Ehh, I guess you're right. But I could keep you hostage."

"Just like you're keeping Ross and Vix hostage?" questioned Michael's dark-haired friend.

The man turned the gun on him. "You could say that. Or...you could not. Because maybe I have them, maybe I do not. You'll have to come in and find out for yourself"—Damon pulled the trigger, and a bullet lodged itself into the ground behind the dark-haired boy—"but I wouldn't recommend that, or else you'd die."

"I am not afraid of you," he said calmly.

"Oh, but you should be. You should be very afraid." Damon smiled. "I can go after those you care about, if you think me ending your life isn't good enough. I could kill your friends and girlfriend... You don't have a family, do you, kid? Ha, I know what that's like. Bet you were always unloved as a kid. But yeah, I'll kill that girlfriend of yours anytime, if you'd like."

His eyes had grown wide despite his subconscious telling him that these were surely just empty threats. "Don't you dare," he hissed.

"I'll do it, kid." Damon shrugged. "Care to risk it, Mr. Born Into the Darkness?"

"...No," he finally said. "No, I don't."

"Good." The older man smiled, looking smug and arrogant. "Take my word for it, kiddo. I can pull it off. Perhaps you'll find her one day, with a pool of red beneath her. Wouldn't that be a pretty sight?" He laughed as he began walking towards his cabin, putting the gun away. "Anyway, farewell, you two. It was...amusing, to say the least, watching you attempt to confront me."

And that was when he lunged.

"Oh my God!" gasped Michael.

Grabbing ahold of his opponent, he dug in with his nails, hissing as the two crashed to the ground. While struggling in the dirt, he managed to pull out Damon's gun. He pressed it to the man's forehead. "I could shoot you now. Rid the world of you. And no one would care. Because you're small and insignificant. Am I right?" he snarled.

"Would that satisfy you?" laughed Damon, almost hysterically. "Killing me if no one remembers me?"

"No, but I'll do it if it means you'll be gone from our lives."

"Oh, but I'll never be fully gone." Damon smiled smugly. "I'll haunt you bastards forever."

While usually calm and levelheaded, all he could see now was red, and his hands were shaking. He wanted to get rid of this man. No one threatened those he cared about.

"Are you afraid now?" Damon asked.

The question caught him off-guard. "Are you?" he responded, trying to will the blood-red away from his gaze.

"Not at all." And then Damon smashed his fist into the boy's face, before kicking him off of him. He rolled upwards. "Because I am always in control"—he grabbed the boy by the hair and ripped the gun from his hands—"even when I'm not."

He could feel a knee and fist slam into his body multiple times, reopening old wounds. Blood began blossoming through his bandages, and he cringed in pain, trying not to cry out. Michael tackled Damon to the ground, and he was promptly let go. Panting, he sat there for awhile, watching the battle unfold.

Damon kicked Michael off of him. He pointed the gun at him. "I guess you want me to kill you after all."

Not wanting Michael to be killed, he leaped up despite the pain he was in and slammed his arm into Damon's, causing him to lose grip of the gun. It fell into the tall grass, and Damon looked up, growling as his eyes dilated.

He smashed his fist into his smaller opponent a few times, before letting him simply crash down into a rock. His phone slipped out of his pocket and clattered to the ground. And as he lay there, bleeding, Damon bent down and picked the device up. "Huh, eleven new texts," he commented. "It's from that Bunny Utonium. Your girlfriend. A bit clingy, isn't she?"

"Leave...her...alone," he spat, beginning to tremble as he attempted to get back up.

"You seem to care a lot about her. I wonder what would happen if I actually caused her harm?"

He was shaking violently now, rage filling his veins. "I'll kill you," he spat, blood splattering the dirt. He managed to get up on his arms before falling back down.

"I'd like to see you try." Damon threw his phone back down onto the ground, his gaze darkening. "Get up. This is just pitiful."

Growling, he pulled himself up and managed to stand on unsteady legs. He swayed slightly as he declared, "I'll never forgive you if you hurt anyone I care about."

"I don't ask for forgiveness. I ask you to fear me. I expect you to fear me." Damon's lips curled into a sickening smile. "Let this be a warning, boy."

He growled, getting ready to fight again.

But his opponent waved his hand dismissively. "This fight is over. Go home before I change my mind and kill you two after all, for real. You've pissed me off enough that it's possible." Damon glanced back, his golden eye flashing. "Watch your back, kid—live in fear; always be in fear."

He stared at the man as he unlocked the door, every muscle screaming at him to pounce. But his brain held him back, telling him that he couldn't win, so he just watched with hatred filling his veins.

"Oh, and by the way?" Damon glanced back at the two of them. "Good effort." He closed the door behind him, adding loudly, "Better luck next time, Michael; Darkai! I look forward to your next attempt."

The two stood there for awhile longer, stunned and sullen. Finally, Darkai turned to go.

That was when laughter burst from inside the cabin.

Michael glanced back. "What is wrong with him?"

Darkai just shook his head. He couldn't shake off Damon's warnings; especially the one about hurting his girlfriend. He glanced at his phone. Eleven new texts from her.

Bunny. His moonbeam.

Damon had asked what would happen if he ended up hurting her. Which Darkai would never let happen. He'd protect her and never let her be in pain. He closed his eyes, trying to forget Damon's haunting song—

"Oh, how fun it is to hunt and kill..."

—With psychotic laughter ringing out from behind them all the while.

---

"Welcome home, my son."

There was no reply.

"You're really going to do it, aren't you?" He paused, smiling in amusement. "You're going to try and kill me?"

Silence.

His smile grew as he shook his head. "Oh please, don't make me laugh."

---

*(A/N: Reference to chapter 60!)

**(A/N: Reference to Fantastic Mr. Fox!)

***(A/N: Reference to Marianas Trench and my other fic Hung Up on You!)

****(A/N: Reference to the manga Ichiroh! and its main character Nanako!)

ME: Wow, what a doozy, huh? A lot of stuff happened in this chapter!

BANDIT: I'm concerned about where you're going with this Damon plot...

ME: Hehe it gets worse from here; believe me!

BLASTER: Aww, and I thought he was a good guy!

ME: Wellllllll...

BLOSSOM: "Well"...?

ME: You'll see!

BANANA: I mean, he's definitely evil here. There's no denying that.

ME: Yeah, but there's a lot more stuff in the future that could support or disprove it! *winks*

BUBBLES: Aww, Kuku; you're such a tease!

ME: It's what I do! Now, be sure to leave a review if you enjoyed! I'll try to update soon~