/TW:\ non-consensual drug use, injuries, implicite SA

(damn, I'm really forced to consider what was going through my head when I wrote this each time I have to think about what trigger warnings to put, hum)

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I'm going to die tonight.

Agata tries to shake the thought away, but its little claws have dug deep into his brain and they won't let go as easily. He wants to believe it's only his nervousness feeling. They say feline know when their time has come – he hopes his instinct is mistaken, then.

Anyway, is there anything in this town that could predict Melon's actions?

He exhales slowly, trying to keep his breathing under control, and gets out of the car. The hybrid is already waiting, arms crossed. He can't see his expression under the surgical mask, but the neon light of a nearby bar catches on the white of his squinted eyes.

"Let's go inside, shall we, kitty?"

"Inside the bar?"

"Yeah, why? Would you prefer the abandoned warehouse next door?"

He points at the gaping hole of darkness, where the sliding doors once were, and Agata shivers.

"No. T-the bar sounds great."

He wouldn't dare kill him in a room full of people, would he?

His body is on auto-pilot, he enters the smoke-filled air, takes a seat near the counter. He hears himself ordering a beer when Melon tells him to get something. The response of the bartender is lost in the thunderous beating of his own heart.

That sounded a lot like an invitation for one last trip – a single ticket to the other world, in the form of a bullet between his eyes. But he didn't have a choice, so here he is, waiting for his sentence. His palms sweat so much that the glass threatens to slip from his grip.

"I want you on the next cargo," Melon says – and it takes a few seconds for the young lion to make sense of the words. "Just to make sure the shipment arrives safely this time, hum?"

His grip tightens so much that he worries the glass might break. Slowly, he puts it back down on the bar counter. Ignoring how his hand has started shaking – ignoring the sudden ringing in his ears, the weight that has lodged itself in his stomach.

He changes his mind and brings his drink back up to his lips, downing it in one go. He can feel Melon's gaze on him, unwavering, and it's making him increasingly nervous.

"For…" His mouth feels dry, making it difficult to form words. "How long will the trip last?"

"A month. Departure is in a week."

Agata lets out a breath, absent-mindedly grabs his glass again. Remembers it's empty. He doesn't let it go, though – he just needs something to hold – to hold onto. The cold glass against his palm reminds him he's still alive.

"Why?" he croaks finally.

Melon crosses his legs, leans closer, and the young lion has to fight the urge to back away. He gulps down, does his best to hold his gaze.

"Because," the hybrid slowly says, "as I said, I need to be sure of your loyalty." He reaches a hand, flicks lightly the gun holder on Agata's side. "You did try to kill me."

"You did slit the throat of one of our members."

Feline eyes narrow, however more in amusement than in anger – at least, that's what he hopes.

"Yeah. So now, you're going to freeze your ass on a boat far away from there, and I won't have to look over my shoulder for any other assassination attempt. And when – if – you get back, I'll consider you passed the test. Does that sound fair?"

Since when do you care about fairness?

He gulps down his saliva and the unsaid words.

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Great, so we're done here, kitty. See you back at the mansion. Don't be too long, it's dark around them, hum?"

His tone drips with sarcasm and Agata's hands ball up into fists, claws digging slightly into his palms. He keeps staring at the wooden counter, barely sees Melon leave.

He has yet to wrap his mind around the fact that he is, surprisingly, not dead.

He needs another drink.

He pats his pockets, only to find that they contain only his phone. He must have left his wallet at the headquarters. Just his luck – he isn't normally one to drink, especially not alone, and one of the very few times he wants to drown his thoughts for a little bit, he can't.

He checks one last time his glass is well and truly empty – he feels ridiculous, craning his neck to an awkward angle, only to get a single drop on his tongue – and his eye catches sight of Melon's left-behind drink. Agata sighs, reaches for it and takes a cautious sniff. Smells like whisky and coke, alright. Not necessarily his go-to choice, but it's alcohol nonetheless, and he needs that right now. He gulps down almost half of the remaining liquid… only to spit it back in the glass, his muzzle scrunched up in disgust, tongue peeking out as if the warm, humid air of the underground bar could help wipe the horrible taste off. Granted, it's been a while since he last had whisky, but he still is pretty damn sure it's not supposed to be this bitter. He pushes the glass away, sickened. Okay, that was a sign. Time to go home.

The road back to the headquarters is rainy, cold, and uneventful.

He grunts a greeting to Free and Dope, playing cards on the small room just next to the entrance, and hangs his jacket up the coat rack. The older lion leans back on his chair, two of his feet in the air, trying to peak past Agata. He raises an eyebrow.

"You're alone?"

"Yep. Boss left me behind at the bar once we were done."

His tail flicks beside him as he recalls their conversation. Rex, I really don't want to go up there.

"He hasn't made it back yet," Free adds.

"Ah."

"Guess we should enjoy the free evening, then?" Dope intervenes.

Agata just shrugs and walks by, not wanting to dwell upon what kind of things their boss could be up to at this late hour. With anyone else, he might have guessed girls (or boys, if they were swinging that way) but Melon… nah, just thinking about it makes him vaguely nauseous. The foul taste on his tongue from the weird whisky has lingered too. He needs to brush his teeth.

He's just about to do that, wondering idly how could Melon not be bothered by the… taste….

Oh.

His toothbrush is halfway to his mouth, the paste a little white comma on top of the stiff bristles, but he has forgotten all about it. The evening replays in his mind, he tries to recall the faces at the bar. The server was the same as always – and known for turning a blind eye to his customers' identities and lives, which was a great way to boost one's business around the Black Market. Nothing about the night strikes Agata like out of the ordinary, except maybe that young leopard that was seated near them at the counter. First, she didn't seem to order anything. Second, this was in the Shishigumi's area, and felines are very territorial – it was almost common knowledge that other species, especially damn leopards, weren't welcomed.

Maybe she was trying to provoke them.

Maybe worst.

The toothbrush falls into the sink as Agata heads outside, barely stopping to snatch his jacket off the coat rack. Free watches him pass, blinking in confusion.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Just going to check something!"

Someone. He hears snickers behind him as he checks for his keys and wallet in the usual pocket.

"Did you lose your phone again?"

"After just one drink?" comes Dope's voice from the part of the room Agata can't see. "Lightweight."

He raises a finger to them and finally steps into the streets, where he's greeted by a gust of cold wind. He fumbles with his jacket collar, grumbling against that damn weather – it's only barely October and he's already reminded that lions aren't made for the temperatures this far north.

He tells himself that if he's walking this quickly, it's only to warm himself up.

The more he approaches the bar, the more his senses perk up, on the lookout for even the tiniest movement, the quietest sound – for anything out of the ordinary, really. Dozens of scents mix there – wet pavement, nearby blood and meat, multiple carnivores with the occasional sweet, alluring touch of herbivore –, and maybe it's just his own, overactive mind, but Agata would swear he can smell leopards around here. More than that one female.

He's passing by a small alleyway when a whiff of blood hits him right in the nose. He stops dead in his tracks, heart beating faster against his ribs, ears straining for any sign of danger. The smell is too potent to be coming for the market stalls. He tries to recall if there is any warehouse around there, but his mind comes blank.

With a shaky inhale, he takes out his gun and steps towards the alleyway. His pupils dilate, adjusting to the dim lighting, and the outlines of trash bags appear from the darkness.

"Hey? Is someone there?"

His voice echoes against the brick walls before dying somewhere amongst the cold shadows. Agata gulps audibly and takes a few more steps forward. The narrow space reeks of leopards, even if he's pretty sure they have fucked off by now. At least, if they are alive. There isn't a single movement, save for the young lion's, to disturb the damp, silent air of that October night.

He's about to turn tail, making a mental note to talk to the Shishigumi about the leopards' presence on their territory, when his gaze jumps over a knocked-over trashcan up to a strange shape on the pavement. He takes Agata one second, and one more step, to realize with a growing feeling of dread that it's definitely a body.

"Hey?" he calls again, cursing at the shakiness in his voice.

No answer, not even the slightest twitch. Lowering his gun, Agata hurries forward. And stops.

It feels like he has swallowed cement. The quick-drying type, the one they use to drown people with.

"Boss…?"

For once, the young lion wishes he hadn't been right.

His boss lays on the pavement amidst the shadows, completely motionless, in what smells like a puddle of his own blood mixed with rainwater. His pink torn-up shirt has turned red and his right arm is clearly broken, the wrist bent at an impossible angle – it's painful to solely look at.

"Shit, no… Hey, can you hear me?"

He crouches down and carefully pushes Melon on his back, feeling a pang in his chest as his head rolls limply with the motion. His gaze travels from the bloodied lips and fangs to his badly bruised left eye, and a little higher- damn. He had no idea it was even possible to break gazelle horns, and yet there it is, neatly snapped in two just after its first twist. It's still bleeding, too, sticky red seeping down across half of the hybrid's face.

Agata shakes his head, tearing his gaze from the disturbing sight, and instead reaches for Melon's neck, searching for a pulse, mindful of his claws. His hand is shaking, badly enough that it takes him a few agonizing seconds before he can pick out his heartbeats. They are slow, probably too slow. But he's no doctor – and right now, he thinks that if he doesn't find one fairly quickly, the Shishigumis will have to look for a new boss.

The thought makes him stop.

That would be a good thing… right? Agata did was tasked to kill him himself, back when they thought Dolph to be dead.

Except a second boss murdered in less than two years, that wouldn't look very good for them. Everyone was already made aware of their depleting ranks since the last turf war… It wasn't the ideal moment to appear even weaker. Anyway, who would take the lead now? No one amongst the lions is fully ready to step up to that role yet. And if Melon finally kicks the bucket, it would be Madaragumi's victory. (By now, he's pretty convinced they are behind all this.)

Agata tries to convince himself that he's only doing it for the sake of their gang's reputation as he fishes his – not lost – phone out of his pocket and dials a too-familiar number.

"What?" comes a growl for only greeting.

"Hi, Gouhin-san… I have a… situation."

"Let me guess, meat-withdrawal again?"

He can hear the weariness in the doctor's voice.

"No, it's our boss. He's… badly injured."

"Your boss, hum." Gouhin pauses. "It's still that hybrid, right?"

"Yes… why?"

The young lion would be surprised that someone that has dedicated their life to saving meat-drunks and criminals would hold prejudices like that, but you never know.

"Because," Gouhin explains, "I just had a couple of leopards here who were bitten but don't have a single claw mark on them. It doesn't fully read carnivore on a rampage, but it's definitely not the work on an herbivore either."

Agata glances down at Melon's unconscious form. So, you did try and fight back…

"Do you know what happened?" The doctor prompts.

"No… We were at a bar, and he left before me. I'm pretty sure his drink was spiked with something though, maybe even poisoned. Something super bitter, but he can't taste anything. It must have been planned."

"Injuries?"

The young lion tries to remember what the others have taught me when reporting an animal's state to medical professionals. Breathing, blood loss… concussion, maybe, too? Uh, he's bad at this.

"He's unconscious… still breathing, but it sounds a bit weird. And, uh… lots of cuts and scrapes… and a broken arm? I think? One thing I'm sure of, it's that there is a lot of blood around."

He hears Gouhin sigh on the other side of the line.

"Fine, come on, bring him here. Just, please take the back door. I don't want the two sides of whatever happened running into each other while in my clinic."

"Sure thing! … Thanks."

The panda groans.

"Hurry. I would like to be back home before the sunrise, for once."

Agata sticks his phone back in his pocket and ponders how exactly he's going to go about this. The clinic is not far away, maybe five minutes by foot… more if he has to carry someone unconscious. Well, it's not like a car could make it far in the maze of alleyways that makes most of the Black Market district anyway.

He sighs, kneels back down, snakes one of his arms around Melon's shoulders and the other under his knees to… He freezes. There are a lot of claw marks around the hybrid's thighs, abdomen and lower back, wet fabric clinging to his skin. His belt is unfastened, his pants pulled up hastily over his protruding hipbones. Agata exhales slowly, silently praying that he's either reading too much into things, or that Melon came to this corner to take a pee or something. Not anything else. Please. He doesn't want to deal with that something else.

When he straightens back up, he can't help but be a little unnerved by just how light the body in his arms feels. He guessed before that the hybrid weighed around fifty kilograms, but now it's clear it's less than that. He suppresses a shiver and adjusts his grip, causing Melon to whimper slightly. His eyelids have pulled back just enough to reveal a glimpse of blood-shot white. Agata bites his lip, trying his best to repress the weird, new, horrible feeling blooming deep within his chest.

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Next chapter is Melon's pov- gonna post soon, or will try to at least!