A/N/WARNING: Don't read this chapter if sexual abuse and awkwardly-written Non-Con are a problem for you. The details are vague and whatnot, and nothing occurs except towards the middle and then at the end, but this warning is still obviously needed.

Chapter Eight

I'll (Try To) Keep You Safe Tonight

We're going to die.

Frank shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the awful thought, but it stuck with him. It had been repeating in a silent, torturous cycle for who knew how long, and the worst part of it happened to be that he believed it. He hadn't a reason to deny it; none of them did. It felt like it had been a year since they'd been captured, and it hardly mattered if it had been. However long ago it was, the three of them were both very hungry and thirsty by now, though they were being denied everything before they could even ask, leaving them terribly weak and drained of almost all energy. Even if they were allowed to get out, he wasn't sure they could have managed it.

He grimaced and looked over at Mikey, who was asleep on his back next to him. He'd barely been awake since they'd gotten his boot off, and even when he was, he was in a fever-induced stupor, not saying much more than a few words, if any at all, before he faded again. And they still weren't even actual complaints—the kid was acting like if he admitted to the fact he wasn't feeling well, the fucking world would explode.

He raised his gaze to Ray, who had moved further away to sit by himself, obviously furious yet not wanting to bother them.

"We're going to—get out." Frank widened his eyes briefly as he realized that, despite he'd spoken correctly, he'd had the urge to say what was on his mind.

"Yeah, yeah," Ray said hoarsely, and then coughed. "So I've heard."

"Really; they'll find a way to get us out."

"Who're they, huh? Dr. D? DJ? The people who think we're dead?" Ray turned to face him as he did not reply. "How long has it been? Two days? Three? Do you really think anyone's coming for us?" He shook his head. "They're not."

Frank almost flinched at the total despondency in his friend's tone, staring at him. Ray swallowed hard, winced, and then continued. "Look, I know you're stuck on that whole 'not giving up hope' attitude, and—and usually I'd agree, but…" he trailed off, gave a halfhearted shrug, and turned back around, leaning against the wall.

Frank released a long, uncertain breath and frowned. They always had a chance, right? The others could have already formed a plan, and could be trying to rescue them at the very moment.

He closed his eyes and shook his head as the very thin thread of whatever positive feelings he had left snapped.

No. We're really on our own here, aren't we?

That being the case, he very well knew they weren't going to make it.

The door suddenly opened, and the two aware Killjoys scowled as Korse entered, looking at them and smirking, seemingly amused at how weak they were, not even bothering to move. "No attempt to escape? I'm surprised. Or have you finally given up?"

Neither answered, and he chuckled, stepping closer to them, a Drac following him with the same shocking device they'd seen far too much of.

Oh God, please don't. Frank thought, glancing at Mikey as Korse neared them. "Leave him alone."

Korse looked over the unconscious blonde, taking on taunting tone of voice. "Oh, Way's poor little brother is sick?"

"Fuck off," Ray called from the side, facing them and yet still not getting up from where he sat. What was the point, anyway? He couldn't fight, he couldn't run, he couldn't do shit except wait to see what the man would do.

Korse ignored him, his eyes on Frank. "Actually, he's not who I came for."

Frank scooted back as the man grabbed for him, catching his arm anyway and yanking him to his feet.

"Hey—" Ray scowled, now struggling to stand, but Korse gave the Drac a subtle gesture, and it walked over to him, holding out the device and touching his side with it despite him trying to shove it away. The twenty-four-year-old shrieked in pain, withstanding it only briefly before he finally dropped back down, his hands out in surrender, and it stepped back. He leaned over, gasping, and Frank bit his lip to keep from making any noise.

"Move," Korse ordered, pushing him towards the door, and Frank scowled as they got out, the Drac's grip tight around his arm, just above the elbow. "Let me go!" he shouted, trying to gather the small amount strength he had left.

"One wrong move and you'll regret it." Korse growled, moving to walk in front of them.

The Killjoy knew he was being foolish; he had no chance of getting away. But he continued to fight, angry and hating that, had he been in possession of his gun or any type of weapon at all, he could have killed him right then and there. "Fucking bastards!" he shouted, kicking out at the man's feet without a second thought. "What'd you do with Party?"

Korse tripped, stopped, and then whirled around, livid. Frank widened his eyes but could do nothing as the agent abruptly grabbed him from the Drac, twisting his arm behind him so painfully he actually saw stars. "Party Poison is no more, Frankie." he hissed into his ear, and the Killjoy groaned softly. "And Gerard's going to follow."

"Fuck you," Frank managed weakly, struggling not to allow his voice to crack, and Korse smirked. "It's more fun to make the lives of those I hate the most as miserable as I can." He chuckled, leaning even closer, his breath against Frank's neck making him cringe. "But to be honest, that suggestion might be helpful in further breaking your beloved little boyfriend. Don't you think?"

Frank flinched at the words. "Don't you fucking touch him," he scowled, and then lifted his foot, jerking it back with everything he had, smiling sardonically as he heard the agent grunt, bending over slightly.

Korse sucked in a breath and then viciously shoved the Killjoy face-first into the wall. It was so startling and unexpected that Frank never even exclaimed; he simply staggered back and then crumpled.

The agent caught him before he could hit the ground, glaring at him and the bit of blood now on his forehead, and then carelessly handed him to the Drac. "Bring him. Now." he ordered, continuing down to the last door on the right, opening it and gesturing for the Drac to stay outside, taking the unconscious Killjoy from its arms, the door shutting behind him.

Korse roughly pushed the boy into a sitting position against the corner, briefly wondering if he should tie his wrists with the rope in his pocket, pleased to see that the arm he had twisted was already bruising. Then he shrugged; the boy was weak and in no shape to put up a fight, especially not with the headache he would now have.

Using one of his fingers to stroke the boy's cheek, he smirked. "Or," he began thoughtfully, pausing as the boy groaned, his eyes fluttering open, dazed. "Or I always have you." The man cupped a hand under his chin and lifted his head. "I wouldn't have to do anything to Way. That would be enough."

Frank blinked at him, unresponsive for a few moments until he finally came to completely, jerking away from the man and pressing himself against the wall, disgusted as he understood what he meant. "Get the fuck away from me," he growled, and Korse chuckled, grabbing his injured arm, causing him to whimper.

"You're even more pathetic than you were five years ago," the man murmured with a sigh, letting go of the boy's arm to reach up and brush Frank's dark hair out of his eyes, enjoying the horrified cringe the actions brought on. "I had fun making you watch me hurt the only person you cared about."

Frank inhaled sharply, wincing, and Korse chuckled softly. "So you recall that as well! Good!" He paused briefly. "I can't wait to do it again."

"Please don't hurt him."

Korse eyed him closely, intrigued, almost wondering if he'd heard wrong. "Did you just beg me for something, Killjoy?"

Frank did not respond, his gaze darting everywhere but the man for a moment before making eye contact again.

"I'm disappointed," Korse murmured, looking over Frank's entire body, watching him grow even more uncomfortable. "I was looking forward to making you plead."

"Go fucking die, Korse," Frank spat suddenly, and the agent smirked. "There's the defiance I remember. I was starting to wonder where it went."

Frank backed up further as the man inched towards him a bit more, but his shoulders were suddenly in the very corner; he was stuck, with nowhere else to go.

"I guess I'll just have to find a way to get rid of it for good, hmm?" Korse cooed, putting a hand on the Killjoy's thigh, and Frank was suddenly terribly sick to his stomach, glad there was nothing in it. "Get away," he whispered, eyes widened in fear, and then said it louder and more forcefully.

Still, the BLI agent ignored him, overjoyed he was frightening him and moving his hand a bit more down, leaning far too close to him.

Aghast, Frank risked being hurt again, lashing out and punching the man directly in his jaw. He jumped to his feet as the man fell back, surprised, and, disregarding his dizziness, began to bolt towards the door. He knew the Drac had to be outside, and he knew it was probably impossible to get away, but if he could just—

Something grabbed his shirt, yanking him to a stop, and he fell onto his back, gasping for air and stunned. He heard Korse fire curses at him as he bent over the boy, shoving him onto his stomach and grabbing his arms, wrenching them behind him, ignoring his cries of pain from doing so and managing to tie his wrists despite his struggles. He stood up finally and angrily kicked him in his side. The Killjoy hadn't the breath to scream and instead rolled over, his eyes watering, tucking his knees to his chest as much as he could.

Korse glared down at him, rubbing his aching jaw with a hand. God would he love to cause this Killjoy pain, maybe even as much as he was about to put on Way. But he didn't have another dose of what he was going to give the red head, at least not one that had been finished; it was merely an experiment to see if it worked, Gerard happening to be the perfect subject to do so with.

But there was something else he could do. The thought appalled him almost as much as it had Frank, and then he'd only been taunting him, his sole purpose to make him squirm. It had certainly been effective, though; he'd seen how pale the boy had gone at his words, how much he wanted to get away, his fear increasing every second he knew he couldn't.

He'd barely touched him. If he actually were to…

The agent glanced at Frank as he finally managed to cry out, and he smirked. He wanted him to make that sound again, one of unqualified pain.

And though he wasn't too thrilled at the idea itself, he knew exactly how to make that happen.

"We're not through, boy," Korse said, and then whipped around to leave.

I just have to make sure Way's here to watch.

Gerard heard the door slam open from somewhere under his fog of exhaustion, but quite honestly didn't care. He'd finally been able to sleep, as Korse had left him under no supervision, and he didn't want it to end so soon, gratefully accepting every second he could get.

He preferred preventing himself from being slapped again, however; he already had a terrible, pounding headache from being unremittingly struck. And he knew he would only get hit again if he didn't open his eyes, and so he did, raising his head to look at the Asian woman that now stood in front of him, jerking back as the object in her hand came into focus.

"No!" he protested urgently. "No—get away from me!"

Newsagogo smirked. "What? Afraid of needles?"

He flinched and looked away without replying, though that was enough for her to realize he was. She held the syringe up for effect, making sure the lights shined through the tinged-red liquid inside, watching the boy's distressed reaction as he glanced at it, once again averting his gaze, and she smirked. "So the infamous Party Poison does have a weakness." She chuckled slightly. "A bit disappointing, actually; I thought a leader was supposed to fear nothing."

"Fuck you," he muttered, forcing himself to turn back to glare at her.

"It only means you were never fit to be as counted on as you are—were." She gave him the most sickening smile he'd ever seen in his life. "If you were to die, which I can promise you will be achieved one way or another, it wouldn't be a loss to anyone."

Gerard flinched again. Great. Now he had two tormentors. And the BLI spokeswoman wasn't fueled by smacking him around like Korse had been; she went straight into what the man had very slowly gotten to him with—taunts. Deriding him on how he was a terrible person, of how everyone would be better off without him—and doing a damn good job at it, too, despite saying only a few things. Was he really that weakened, that even the slightest thing upset him now?

"And your poor little Killjoy friends," News continued, "They must be so disoriented without anyone to look up to, hmm? Do you think they know you're going to be the death of them all?"

The red head absolutely refused to react to her words, embarrassed enough by the fact he couldn't bring himself to deny what she was telling him, but his eyes watered anyways, and she apparently saw this because she laughed, enjoying his unhappiness. "Don't cry, Party. There will be plenty of time for that later."

Gerard frowned; what was that supposed to mean?

"What are you waiting for?" Korse's voice was incredibly impatient as he stepped through the door, and News scowled at him. "You," she snapped, and then reached out to the Killjoy.

Gerard immediately tried to resist, but he was still secured to the chair, and she steadied his arm anyway, pressing the needle into his wrist and emptying its contents, smiling again as the Killjoy whimpered, both from pain and fear. After a few seconds of containing the boy's struggles she slid it out and stepped back. Korse got in front of him, unreservedly delighted at how panicked he was.

"What the fuck was that?" Gerard demanded, although already had a very good idea.

"We got tired of waiting." Korse murmured, but gave nothing more, watching him intently.

"I won't tell you anything. I don't care what you just—" He cut off with a gasp, cringing and turning his head like looking away from them would help the awful discomfort that suddenly overcame him. He bit his lip to remain silent and then cried out anyway; whatever she'd given him, he could honestly feel it as it slowly traveled through his veins, like he'd been injected with liquid fire.

The two that were standing smirked, amused, and Korse glanced at the woman before stepping forward to get right in front of the red head, grabbing his chin and facing him forward again. "Feel familiar, Way? I seem to recall using something much like this at our last meeting…"

"You don't love him, Way! Repeat it, and I'll stop it."

"God—please—"

"Repeat it!"

"Okay! I-I-I don't love him!"

Gerard groaned at both the memory, so long ago and yet as clear as day now, combined with the growing agony, trying to get out of the man's grip, but he wouldn't release him. "It's only going to continue, Way. Tell me now."

"P-please—" the Killjoy mumbled through gritted teeth, and then exclaimed again, and Korse placed a hand over his mouth to quiet him long enough he could speak. "Where's the girl?"

Gerard shook his head as the man stepped back, writhing in the seat as the pain worsened, every nerve in him now searing. "I—I don't know!"

Korse rolled his eyes, placing a hand into his pocket. "I can make this worse, boy."

Shaking now, Gerard glared at him, and Korse shrugged, reaching out and putting something to his shoulder, causing electricity to shoot through his body.

The red head screamed, in far more pain than he ever thought he would be put through, and then Korse pulled the weapon away, essentially smiling as the Killjoy slumped forward, gasping for air.

"I'm not going to ask again, Gerard. Tell me—where—she is!"

"W-with other Killjoys!"

"Don't be smart. I know that, but who are they?"

He got no response and so he shocked him again, leaving it on longer this time, and when he stepped back, he yelled, "Who, Killjoy?"

Hardly able to catch his breath, Gerard murmured, "I d-don't know! I didn't see!"

The agent was scowling now. No, he would make him give him something. "Do you know who it might have been?"

Gerard bit his lip and shook his head, groaning, and Korse used the device once again, leaving him barely conscious, from both sources of the inconceivable suffering. "Answer me, Way!"

"Please—stop—" he whined, blinking hard and trying to think through the haze he was under.

Korse raised the weapon again, and at last the red head sputtered, "D-Dr. Death Defying!"

The man smiled wickedly, elated. "How very interesting. And she would be hiding with him?"

Gasping, horrified he'd given him anything, Gerard replied, "…I don't know…maybe…"

"Where?" the man growled.

"I don't…I don't know…" the Killjoy mumbled, desperate for the man to see he was telling the truth, but he apparently did not; instead, he scowled, turning to give the weapon to News. Then he reached back into his pocket and took out something to cut the boy's restraints.

"Get up," the man ordered, grabbing Gerard by his hair and jerking him out of the seat, not allowing him to double over as he tried and shoving him out the door.

"You're smarter than I've given you credit for." Korse said, clamping a hand down on the back of Gerard's neck to keep him walking as he staggered. "You've definitely learned to handle what you couldn't last time. It barely took a minute before."

Gerard moaned and then grunted as the man shoved him against the wall as he unlocked a door they'd come to, dragging him into the room when he got it open.

"Gee…"

"Oh God…" Gerard murmured, recognizing who it was before he even saw the dazed figure kneeling in the corner, his hands tied behind his back, a gash on his forehead. "Frank!"

"What's his name?" Korse whispered into his ear. Getting no reply, the man grabbed his gun and the Killjoy's hand, just as he had before, placing it in his grip. "What's his name, Killjoy?"

"Frank…"

"I'm sorry?" Korse dug his fingers into the boy's other wrist, the one News had jabbed the needle into, knowing it was the most sensitive spot on him right now, and he smirked as the red head screamed in pain, continuing his taunt. "What?"

"Frankie!" Gerard cried, and Korse chuckled, raising both his hand and the Killjoy's to aim the gun at Frank, who was watching them in complete horror.

"No!"

"What, you don't want this?" the man asked, glancing at Gerard, who vigorously shook his head. "Why not?"

"I love him…"

"I know." Korse pressed the trigger, and Frank jerked out of the way of the blast, yet still shouted, and Gerard feared it had hit him anyway, not taking another breath until he was sure it hadn't, gritting his teeth and shuddering, knowing next time the man wouldn't miss. "Please!"

"Tell me exactly where the girl is." the agent said, too calmly.

"With the others—Dr. D—I don't know where, please!"

"Do you have any idea where to look, then? Any hideouts they would go to?"

"I-I had…a map…" he said, only slightly aware of the mistake he'd just made. He'd kept the information from him the entire time, but now—he just hurt so much— "It has hideouts m-marked…"

Korse clutched the gun tighter, infuriated. He'd known that the entire time? "Where is it?"

The boy hesitated, and Korse scowled. "Tell me or he dies. You've got three seconds, Way."

"No, please!" Gerard lowered his head, simply unable to stand it anymore, and then gasped, "It's w-where we spent the night before you took her…"

The agent brusquely shoved him to the ground, where he curled into a ball, tightly hugging himself and trying unsuccessfully to stop the pain.

"You're pathetic, Gerard Way. This is really what it had to come to? You put yourself and your friends through everything, when you could have simply told me that to begin with?" Korse shook his head, thinking up anything he could to be as dejecting as possible. "You aren't a Killjoy. Killjoys don't betray their own. And you almost allowed me to kill the ones you care about merely because you were trying to be the hero. Are you proud of that? Is that an accomplishment on your part?"

He rolled his eyes as all he got in response was an agonized whimper. "You're not a hero, Way; not even close! Haven't you got that yet? You're useless, insignificant, incompetent—absolutely nothing. Just like your friends, your brother, your allies, and your parents. And you'll never be anything more. If you think people will respect you for the defiance you've shown, you're wrong."

The boy kept quiet, his teeth clenched, allowing the man to insult him. Frank struggled against the ropes preventing him from helping his love, but couldn't break them.

"I should kill you." Korse continued, pointing the weapon directly at him, absolutely exhilarated he'd finally gotten to him and truly not even hearing the panicked "No!" he received from Frank. "Right in front of your boyfriend, too. BLI has no further use for you, and neither do your wretched allies. The world will be so much better off when you're dead."

Gerard shuddered again. "Do it—" he gasped.

The man frowned, wondering if he was mocking him. The boy had tears running down his cheeks, undoubtedly in the exact misery the agent had been trying to induce for days; more than that, even. His eyes were dull but serious as he looked back, even through the pain he was in, and the man realized the words had been honest. He glanced over at the other Killjoy, noticing how horrified he was, from both what had just happened and what had the possibility of happening.

"Not yet." Korse finally replied, reluctantly lowering his gun, and Gerard closed his eyes, not quite relieved, more so numb, overpowered by both the drug and the man—by BL/I entirely, really. He'd failed; not just his friends, along with every Killjoy he'd ever known—that had ever trusted him—but himself.

"I'll have the pleasure of that later." Korse shoved him onto his back with a foot and then glared at him as he moaned piteously. "I'd love for you to watch your own brother die first."

"No—please, kill me—not him!"

He smirked at the alarmed expression Gerard had taken on. "I won't have to do anything."

"What…what're you…?" the Killjoy winced, in too much discomfort to continue, and he inhaled sharply, rolling onto his side again so he could bring his knees to his chest.

"Leave him alone, asshole!" Frank shouted, spitting several more vile curses after that, attempting to get his attention off Gerard so he wouldn't do anything else to him. He flinched as he accomplished this, looking away as Korse glanced at him. "Oh yes; we left off somewhere, didn't we?"

Korse smirked at how worried the black-haired Killjoy immediately became, and he grabbed Gerard by his hair, forcing him to sit up, though he doubled over instantly. "You know what, Way? I'd actually love for you to see something else even more."

Gerard blinked at him, unable to form another question as to what he was talking about and instead watching through shimmering vision as the agent almost casually strolled over to where Frank was, seizing him by the back of his neck and forcing him to lie down on his chest, pushing his knee into the boy's back so he could neither roll back over nor attempt to get up.

"Stop…" Frank mumbled, seeming quite aware of what was about to take place, and yet Korse acted like he'd never said a word, simply grabbing the boy's jeans and effortlessly yanking them down to his ankles, and suddenly Gerard let out a shriek—not because of the pain he was in, but because he abruptly understood what the man meant to do—directly in front of him. "Don't!"

Korse glanced at him but did not stop, the fear in the red head's eyes only spurring him on, making it easier for him to enjoy this. Although, with the euphoria he was still feeling from seeing Way completely powerless and writhing in agony at his feet...the Killjoy had already inadvertantly made what he was about to do possible. His eyes moved to Frank again as the Killjoy gave a terrified groan, squirming as the man started unbuckling his own pants. "Get the fuck away from me!" Frank screamed, shouting every curse he knew at the top of his lungs, fighting until he just couldn't anymore, too exhausted. "Please..."

"Glad to hear you're finally learning manners, Killjoy." Korse smirked, having succeeded in his task. He removed his knee, grabbed Frank roughly, and then, to both of the boys' horror, forced himself into him.

Frank yelped in agony—no, it was even worse than that; much worse. It was irrefutable torture, from what the man was doing to him, the absolute disgust of it, and, more than anything, from the fact he was powerless to stop it from happening—truly and utterly helpless.

Gerard exclaimed, trying to ignore his own anguish and beginning to crawl over to his boyfriend, but he just couldn't, having to stop before he reached him to wrap his arms around himself again, the pain too great to move again. "Frankie…"

"Stop!" Frank groaned, sounding more afraid than he ever had in his entire life, and then began wriggling to get away from the man. Korse gripped him tightly around his waist and forced him to stay there and endure his malicious assault on him, smirking at both of their reactions to such, even more so as Frank let out a terrified, genuine sob, tears pouring down his cheeks, a little too aware that such only encouraged the agent. The Killjoy couldn't help it, though; no matter how many times he'd told himself he would do no such thing if this happened, after Korse had left him with the awful possibility before, the shock of him really putting him through this was too much. Every bit of defiance had temporarily left him, rendering him completely vulnerable.

"Get off him!"

Korse did not, but he glanced at the red head, ecstatic at the boy's expression.

"I'll do anything! Just stop!" Gerard pleaded, his gaze on Frank, who had squeezed his eyes shut, not even trying to stop the agent anymore, completely drained, trying to breathe and block out the pain, the entire situation, and the fact he could hear Korse gasping. The motherfucker was enjoying this, for more than just hurting them.

Korse smirked, pulling out once more of the Killjoy, who cried out, and then, instead of continuing, he grabbed Gerard by his shirt. "Anything?"

"Don't hurt 'em anymore…" Gerard moaned, still weakly trying to get the man to let go of him, but he didn't.

"Please, don't…" Frank tried, managing to turn his head enough to see them just as Korse struck Gerard hard enough to stop his struggles, pushing him down on his stomach as well, indifferently jerking down his pale blue jeans and muttering, "You're too loyal to him."

Gerard could do nothing but give a yelp as the man did the same to him, briefly looking at Frank, but his boyfriend's eyes were closed again, not able to watch this, trying to free his wrists to no avail.

"God, please!" the red head whimpered, squirming to get away and yet failing his attempts. Korse had been doing everything in his power to make sure he was in as much pain as possible, and he couldn't take it—he couldn't handle the torment anymore, any of it. He was sobbing openly, begging the man to get off. "Please! Stop!"

Frank blinked hard, horrified, and then raised his foot to kick out at the man, incapable of just lying there any longer. He tried again when it did nothing, but didn't even manage to hit him this time, shaking and simply too weakened. "Gee…"

Gerard screamed again, but his voice was hoarse and strained, and then he shuddered violently, shaking his head and going silent; there was no point of continuing to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting him.

He already very clearly was aware of that, anyway.

At last, the agent finished, recovered, and then stood up to fix his pants, leaving the two half-naked Killjoys on the ground where they were. "You know, Way," he sneered, confident at least one of them was listening—it really made no difference to him which one. "Neither of you are worth any time at all; I don't understand why you destroyed your own lives merely to be together."

Frank opened his mouth to retort and yet simply had no voice, shaking his head and lowering it to the tile again. Gerard gave no reaction at all, his breaths coming in desperate gasps.

Korse still reached down to stroke the red head's cheek, smiling as he flinched. "The drug isn't lasting—it'll fade. Unfortunately," he added, and then stood again, taking a last look at them.

Yes, they were both clearly terrified after what he'd done; it was relieving to see this, as it hadn't been pleasurable to him for anything other than the fact he knew he had been agonizing them both (that he would admit to himself, anyway). And that had been the goal of this, nothing else; he had broken their spirits as far as he could, possibly for the rest of their lives.

Which of course, would be extremely short; he was estimating a day or two more before he gladly eliminated them all for good.

He whirled around and opened the door, closing it behind him and locking it, despite knowing very well neither of them would be trying to escape; not now.

At least he had gotten the information he'd needed, along with destroying the defiance Way constantly had shown. He would love to see the boy try and act like that again; he highly doubted he could.

And that was exactly what he had hoped he could achieve; no matter what it had taken, he had succeeded. He was the one responsible for breaking the famous Party Poison, most likely his boyfriend, as well. They were no longer a threat. He had humiliated and degraded them both, and it was only a matter of time until he removed them from his list of problems completely. He'd gotten what he needed, and, despite the pure joy he got from continuously making them suffer, it was pointless keeping them around anymore.

And of course, now that he had the knowledge of the boy's map, along with where it was, he would be able to eliminate every Killjoy in the zones before they ever had a chance. He could get twenty Dracs to each location, easy; and the Killjoys wouldn't be prepared to fight. He would win; BLI would win.

In fact, Korse smiled as he walked, passing the room with the other two Killjoys and then making his way down the stairs like not a single thing out of the ordinary had happened.

I believe we already have.