Just a disclaimer because it's been a while: This chapter might be a little confusing if you don't remember what happened in chapter 352, so if you think that might be the case, you might want to go back and skim it to refresh your memory. It's been a while since then, y'know?


Roaring flames tickled the heavens as a small home that could fit one family comfortably was set ablaze. The light tinted all around it a dull orange as it danced across the faces of the two men who stood before it. The first was a balding man in glasses wearing a blood-spattered shirt with wide eyes as he looked up at the smoking structure in awe, while the other was a rather scruffy-looking blonde man with a cleft chin and an amused grin. The most startling feature of the second man, however, was that his right eye was sewn completely shut.

"I can't believe I did that..." gawked the first. "I… I just..."

"Stu, Stu, Stuart..." Blackwood tsked while shaking his head. "What else were you going to do? Stay in a loveless marriage for the rest of your days for a kid that doesn't even respect you? You're free, now. Congratulations. How do you feel?"

"I..." hesitantly began Stuart before nodding. His tone took on a more positive feel. "I feel… Pretty good. Yeah. I feel okay."

"Then you're going to be perfectly fine." Pulling his eyepatch out of his pocket, Paul placed it over his stitched eye and wrapped the string around his head. With a pat on his former coworker's shoulder, he turned to walk toward the car. "Come on. We should get the goods to your little brother real soon."

Wordlessly, Stuart nodded before following the other's lead. Both of them got into the car with their cargo on ice in the trunk and started it up. The motor complained for a brief second before cooperating completely. With that, the two drove in silence for hours. The occasional and sparse light of the street lamps was all that cut through the darkness to completely illuminate the evidence that the former family man wore. They took back roads all the way to Manchester, being cautious when they were forced to go on main roads. As long as they obeyed traffic laws, they were unsuspicious and safe.

They were tired when they arrived to a different house that was much larger and prettier than the last, especially since it was still very much intact. After turning off the car, the front door of the building opened as the owner was expecting them and decided to greet them. Despite being the "little" brother, he was much taller than Stuart and more burly. Behind his back, Stuart called him a "gorilla" for a reason.

"Well, if it isn't big Stu?" the large man said with a smile and his hands in his pockets. "This the 'friend' you told me about?"

Before Stuart could answer, Blackwood already extended his hand to shake. "Paul Blackwood." he said, introducing himself. "I'm very pleased to meet you, mister Butcher."

"I'm glad to meet you as well, Blackwood. So, I hear that you have something for me?"

"Indeed, I do, sir. But we really shouldn't stand around out here like this. I have two 'specimens' in the trunk and a little something special on me."

"Well, you'll have to show me inside." spoke the younger Butcher. "I'll have some guys get your things for you."

Stuart was nervous going into the house, and for good reason. Blackwood was either ignorant, fearless, or mad, for his brother was the nastiest man in Manchester. Drugs, human trafficking, and black market deals were merely the tip of the iceburg with him. He sells bodies, living or dead, and is even rumoured to eat the flesh of his victims when he's feeling partial. "Barry Butcher" was his name, but some spoke of him like his first name was "The". Blackwood had just walked into his den, bringing his older brother with him.

Now, the Butcher brothers hadn't seen each other in years. It had been almost a decade, in fact. Stuart disagreed with Barry's way of life, but here he was, at his door covered in blood while presenting his family to him on a silver platter. It certainly was a surprise, putting Blackwood on the man's good side from the starting gate. Of course, this was all part of Paul's game. He had pushed buttons in just the right way to set this scene, taking his sweet time over the course of a month to move Stuart to the point where he would consider cold-blooded murder. Really, he hadn't expected the man to be so calm about it, but it worked in his favour, regardless. Perhaps it was in his blood all along.

In Barry's living room, Blackwood and younger Butcher sat while Stuart excused himself upstairs to finally rinse off the blood and change his clothes. Still, Blackwood was ridiculously calm as he casually sat there. Fortunately, he had no need for long explanations. It was already done over payphone. Barry was already perfectly aware of his brother's deed and he was rather impressed.

"This isn't your first rodeo, is it?" he jokingly asked, earning a chuckle from the eyepatch-wearing man.

"Not really. I will say, though, I've never done it this way before."

"Really? Does it have to do with this 'business deal' you have in mind?"

"Well, helping Stuart was simply paying a favour to an old friend." Blackwood informed. "Although, I did initially just come to him so he would direct me your way. But, in the process, I got a sample for you." Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small bottle that could fit in the palm of one's hand, filled with an ugly, translucent but yellowish liquid. He set it down on the table in front of him for the other man to examine. Naturally, a look of confusion came over his new acquaintance's face.

"What is it?" Barry rightfully questioned.

"I hear that you're in both the drug and murder business." Paul observed. "This right here is a way to utilise both. Now, every body that piles up will serve a purpose, and I don't mean black market organs. This right here is a drug like no other. Legend has that it gives you the ultimate high. It's called "adrenochrome'."

Picking up the bottle, Mister Butcher squinted as he examined it more carefully. "I've heard of that…" he said. "I thought it didn't really exist? Have you tested it?"

"Not this particular batch, no, but I have with others. It works. The only problem is materials. You need a fresh human brain to make it, since it's made with the adrenal gland. So then I thought: 'where can I get materials for this?' That's where you come in."

"And what do you want in exchange?"

"Me? Not much. Roof over my head, a little pocket money to keep me alive, and maybe some backup if I get in any trouble." Blackwood answered very matter-of-factly.

"What kind of trouble could a man like you get into?"

"You'd be surprised. But no matter where you take this stuff, you'll always be the drug king. All that in exchange for a safe place. So?"

Furrowing his brow, Barry stared at the bottle in his fist for a while, mulling over the offer. He hardly knew this person. He didn't know if this drug was even real or not. It could very well be a scam. So, Barry had to make sure that it wasn't.

"How do you use this stuff?" he questioned.

"With a syringe. Not a lot, though, or you might die in one hit." Blackwood informed. Looking up at his new associate as Barry stood up with the bottle. "I wouldn't try it on yourself, anyway."

"I'm not going to. I just so happen to know a guy..." With a gesture, Butcher got a few men to follow him, prompting Blackwood to do so as well.

With the bottle, Barry and his posse traveled through the house until they came to a bookshelf. There, Blackwood raised his brows at the sight of the piece of furniture moving like in the movies, revealing a staircase behind it. Down they went. It was as they spiraled downward into the depths of the Butcher household that Blackwood felt a rare rush of something, whether it was fear, excitement, or both. For someone who could "see everything" with his cursed eye, it was nice to see something surprising once in a while.

At the bottom of the stairs, they came to a large, metal door that Barry knocked on. A small slit in it's surface opened up, revealing a pair of eyes for a brief second. It was just long enough to make sure that it was a friend and not a foe. When the door opened, they came to a small, dingey room illuminated only by a single lightbulb in the center. Underneath it was a chair with a badly beaten man with his arms duct tapped to the armrests of his chair. He seemed out of it until he laid eyes on Butcher. Then, he panicked, but the tape over his mouth prevented him from screaming.

"Well, Bobbie, it's your lucky day." Butcher began. "After being such a good sport and telling us exactly why you thought it would be a good idea to sell what wasn't yours, I've finally decided what to do with you."

Looking to his flunkies, he instructed: "Give me his arm." Just like that, they pounced, tearing off tape and fabric while the poor man struggled. Then, he addressed Blackwood while picking up a syringe from a table of instruments of "enhanced interrogation."

"The high of all highs, you said?" the man questioned while filling the syringe. "Guess he's going to get a reward for his cooperation, then."

With the exposed arm, Barry very quickly found a vein to stick the needle in. The putrid liquid steadily flowed through and was admittedly underwhelming at first, but very quickly wielded interesting results. The captive only known as "Bobbie" started laughing. It was through his nose, but it was definitely laughter. From the lack of distress on his face, it seemed as though he wasn't in any pain any longer. With dilated eyes, he looked around the room and wiggled in his seat, shockingly giving the men holding him down a hard time keeping him restrained.

"What's happening to him?" Barry asked.

"He's on adrenochrome, Mister Butcher." Blackwood calmly replied. "He feels invincible right now. In a way, he is. He can't feel pain, for the time being. That said, he'll definitely be feeling it when it wears off. For now, though, he's got a buzz like no other."

"This… This is insane… Do you have any idea what this could be used for? It could be a drug, sure, but… Imagine… Your guys don't feel pain and keep going… And they have strength like that? Amazing..."

"Play with it some more. Give it time. You'll know exactly what to do with it, eventually. As for your end of the deal?"

"Buddy, whatever you want, you've got it." the mobster said with a flabbergasted chuckle. "Just say the word."

"I will, when the time comes. For now, dinner would be nice."


A/N: What do all of these things have to do with each other? Piece it together with me, because the story is everchanging, even in my head...

ESPECIALLY in my head...

That's probably where it should change, actually. If it just changed spontaneously after posting, that would be a problem.

Interesting, what all adrenaline can do...

Sometimes, it's not good shit, though...

Find out eventually...

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!