There were a lot of things Rock had not accounted for in his fate. Being felt up in another man's lap while getting his chest suckled on after asking for it with every chance to back out of it was one of them. He was still figuring out if he should accept that he enjoyed it or let the guilt really seep in and make him hate it. Between all that, there was fear. This primal, base human reaction that caused him to blackout in the middle of it.

Normally when it had happened, the people taking advantage of his body ignored it and kept abusing him. Yamazaki did not. The mere thought of it took some getting used to. Ruminations lay heavy in Rock's mind, even on the drive home which made it a silent ride. It sort of felt like neither man could find the right words to talk about it or even address it.

For Rock, it was understandable but he wasn't so certain with Yamazaki. It was as if he had to really gather the courage to actually propose it – which would suggest many uncharacteristic things. For the first time since showing up at Kain's doorstep, he appeared on edge. Even now when behind the wheel, he sat here with his hands firmly clenched and brows slightly furrowed in deep musing.

He had bit of a sour look on his face.

On one hand that too made sense. Maybe he was hoping for more. But on the other hand, maybe Rock was too corrupted. They correlated so perfectly that he couldn't help but tie them together. It was hard to even get upset over it; all that came was but a dull ache. Rock sighed quietly and stared out the window as the world zoomed him by, including the little roadside town in which his mother lay buried until they made it back to South Town, the ugly tower, and the park that only obscured it at odd angles.

The gate to Kim's property stood wide open but Yamazaki rolled the car to a stop right outside of it. Kim had a driveway although it was never actually in use because the family preferred public transit and bicycles. Considering this car was probably stolen, it would also just lead to headaches.

Rock hopped out with all the shopping bags from their trip, circling the vehicle to the driver's side as the window rolled down. He shuffled a bit on his feet, feeling heat spread over his face.

"So…"

"So?" Yamazaki quirked a brow.

"Thanks for everything. You know, talking to me and…taking me to Mom."

It took a while before an impish smirk stretched over Yamazaki's face. "In exchange, you better not burn that fuckin' coat."

"I promise I won't," Rock smiled just slightly. He stood there and stared down at his feet, wishing he had more to say because he really, really wanted…wait, what was it exactly that he wanted?

"I got some jobs coming up soon so be a good pup until I get back and don't piss on Kim's flowing pants," it came from Yamasaki, bringing this awkward silence to a sudden end.

"Fuck you," Rock narrowed his eyes with a groan at the malicious chuckle he got in response.

"Fuck you too…wolfy."

Wolfy? Oh.

Yamazaki drove off after that, leaving Rock with a weird sense of loss. Not longing; despite what had happened yesterday, they were not lovers. But maybe there was a part of him that just really wanted to talk it out, to explore, to stop feeling so useless and tainted all the time. To figure out if his filth had been too potent. Did he feel like he deserved to feel good? He wasn't sure and he felt inclined to say no. But for a moment, Rock would like to pretend that the answer was a yes.

A different car drove down the road at a slow pace while he gathered the bags. Far too slow for it to not be deliberate. It was a sportscar that struck a note of familiarity in Rock. Instead of blonde female journalists, this time the driver was a man with long red hair hanging over his face. A weird feeling crept across Rock's skin in the shape of a shudder as they made eye contact for but a moment before the man rolled down the window and for once, Rock didn't have the urge to flop. He was ready to fight.

"…Can I help you?" he asked instead without thinking or daring to acknowledge that they had met yesterday at the park. The same red-haired man with the same blank eyes and the same dead expression.

"I was looking for a mechanic. My car radio seems to have gone dead," he spoke as he looked; velvety yet devoid of warmth or humanity.

Rock remained where he stood, alarm bells going off in his mind like wartime sirens. His entire body grew tense as he hesitated, contemplating whether or not he should throw Crawley to the lions. But was he just being paranoid? After all, he was hanging out just fine with Yamazaki despite the man being a scoundrel with a kill count. A bigger question would be who this redhead creep was and what he was doing in South Town.

"There's one a few miles down the road," Rock answered stiffly.

"Thank you."

And the redhead drove off. Just to be safe, Rock stopped and stared after the car, watching it vanish by the end of the road behind a row of trees before he dared to turn his back.


The encounter with the redhead quickly faded into the ether as Rock settled back into his routine, letting the weeks move into the colder seasons and finding out that yes, indeed, the redhead had actually been to Crawley's auto shop with a fried radio. And Yamazaki…the incident would soon be forgotten as he came and went once in a blue moon.

Rock wouldn't say he was happier but he felt better in life as time went on, living a quiet life out here on the Kim residence. He stood inside the massive building, sweeping the floors after another day of 'rehabilitating evil'. Suffice it to say, that Kim's methods were ruthless. So it was no wonder that sometimes the equipment needed more frequent maintenance. Today was to be such a day.

"Aw crap. The rope broke!" it came from one of the storage rooms before Kim stormed out with a defeated look on his face. Said rope was used to hold some massive training balls in place. That it of all things here had snapped was nothing short of random.

"I could go to the hardware store for some," Rock offered.

Glee brightened Kim's eyes. "Would you? I'd appreciate that since I gotta stay back and do some cleaning for tomorrow."

"Do the sweeping, I'll do the biking," Rock tossed the broomstick his way before heading outside into the downpour. He went to the garage, took Myeng Swuk's bicycle, and rode out of the gate.

Despite the wind whipping rain everywhere, the world felt like it was getting cleansed of its filth. As did Rock. He felt like soaring, flying down the streets, splashing water everywhere as he drove over puddles. The rain had already soaked his clothes, but he didn't care much as the workout kept his body heat up. He missed having a motorcycle but for now, a good old bike would have to do.

Warmth became bit of an issue as he made it out of National Park and towards the hardware store that was located closest by. Rock hopped off the bike and scurried inside its doors, aimlessly pacing down its aisles for that rope. He found a generous bundle of the stuff and took it from the shelf.

The store was modestly sized and there were not many people around. Thus Rock expected to be left completely alone until he heard a voice call his name behind him. Familiar, a bit close. Too close. Rock froze as Joe maneuvered around him to face him. And yes, it was Joe Higashi with his hair standing up straight, his bright smile, and endless energy.

"Joe…" Rock mumbled a bit cooly. He stood like a statue, unsure of what to say or how to react when he felt a hand on his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

"It's been a while, rookie," Joe said and followed the younger man while he shuffled to the cashier with the rope and paid for it. He himself had come here to buy a drill it seemed. Rock didn't answer him as they made it into the rain and the comfort of an umbrella, trying not to feel his heart getting ripped apart at 'rookie'.

It had been a while indeed. Much like almost everyone else, Joe vanished after Andy's death. Suppose it only meant good things that he had come back, in high spirits as usual. Even still, there was a layer of melancholia that wasn't there before. Maybe Rock should think of something to say while the silence lasted. Maybe catch up for old-time's sake now when he was walking down the street with Joe.

They made it past the row of practical stores until they reached a residential area; a few blocks of cheap apartments. Rock had often mentioned to Terry how he'd like to live here when he got sick of not having his own place. But on the other hand, losing his mother made him wary of being alone. Maybe it left Rock feeling a little awkward now when he was standing here.

"I hope you don't mind coming over and getting inside from the rain and all," Joe smiled just a bit as he opened the door. It wasn't locked which was concerning.

Joe's apartment was atypically orderly and clean with a smell of fresh laundry lingering in the air. There were another pair of shoes neatly tugged under a coat hanger which held onto a few jackets. A few of them did not look like something Joe would wear. Entering deeper, Rock got his answer to questions he didn't know he had.

On a couch, wrapping bandages around his arm was…Kane. Billy Kane. He slowly moved his gaze upwards, completely indifferent to the young man who stood and gawked wide-mouthed at him, then looked down again to finish the bandages.

"Geez, Joe. Really?" he uttered. "Right when I'm sitting here, more bloodied than a used tampon?"

Rock snapped his mouth shut, his entire body trembling. He turned his head and glared at Joe for an explanation, glared so hard that his eyes began to sting. Joe had to clear his throat, the smile on his face fading a bit.

"It's a long story."

No fucking shit?

"And you still follow that asshole around?" Rock bit out his question to Kane though he already knew the answer. Still, he couldn't help but silently fume as the twat nodded.

The stupid idiot stood up, running his hand around his arm, and then went to the bathroom with the medical kit. He had left his staff there and it was extremely tempting to snatch it and bash his stupid head into a pulp of red and grey. Instead, Rock stood there like he had grown roots and watched Joe putter about for drinks and linger after a few loving words of affection between him and Billy.

Watching them interact, watching Joe being all flirtatious and playful while Billy turned red like a ripe tomato was surreal. Didn't they hate each other before? Wasn't Joe in the process of going out with Billy's sister? It all sounded incorrect. Wrong. Like someone had taken Rock and thrown him into some alternative universe where everything was upside down and green pigs could fly.

Suppose he now understood why Yamazaki had said something about South Town feeling off. At some point, Joe came with three cans of lime soda and sat down while Billy dragged a chair to the common area.

"Did you get the drill?" he asked, gesturing to the plastic bag in the kitchen.

"Yes, babe. I did," a grin spread over Joe's face that only grew wider at Billy's grimace.

As irritating and slightly disgusting as it all was, there was something…supposedly wholesome about their relationship. But there was an undercurrent of uncertainty to it all that made one wonder if Joe actually knew the full extent of Billy's shady dealings. But then again, wouldn't that just make Rock a hypocrite because of Yamazaki? He sat down and wondered if there came a time when he could live without that man in his life.

He wasn't sure he could for reasons, he didn't understand. But this was not love. Rock wasn't sure he ever could love after all that had happened. No, Yamazaki was but an acquaintance. Nothing more so losing him shouldn't be an issue. Even if he died. With the life he was living, it was only a matter of time before something went wrong. But surely he was already aware of those risks.

And suddenly the threat of death hanging over them both felt uncomfortably real for a moment, Rock realized.

"I've been thinking a lot about everyone and all that happened," Joe said suddenly. He stared upwards at the ceiling for a bit with a slight frown. "You know…since the funeral. It's scary how things just…ceased."

"Or how people vanish or they hurt us," Rock spoke more to his can than any human in the room.

"That too. I still get a little…uh achy for lack of a better word when I think of Terry. We lost touch a week after the wake. I think he and Andy read the entire grieving handbook back to front, front to back, and upside down when it came to Jeff but there's nothing in there about losing your last blood relative. I guess he didn't know how to handle it alone."

Rock nodded. It was uncomfortably familiar. He had Terry when Mom died and Terry wasn't alone when Andy passed. But there was a world's difference between supporting people affected by and experiencing the direct hit of grief. Only a select few actually handled it well. But what constituted as 'handling it well'?

"…I wish I could have helped him," Rock sighed.

Clearing his throat, Billy interjected like he had a horse in this race long since passed. "Look, I may not have liked Bogard - either one of them, but I think you did what you could. Some people just don't…do well with grief. It fucks everything up in life regardless of what we do."

Skeptical to his platitudes, Rock glared at him. "How would you know? What do you know about that?"

"A lot more than you know," Billy grimaced at him, then turned to Joe. "Should we tell him about…you know, that?"

Joe stared back with a shrug. "About Ma-that? I doubt he'd believe you."

"Believe what? Tell me what, you gossiping hens?"

Billy snapped his head to the younger man, eyes narrowed in irritation. "Eat a bag of knobs, kid."

"What he's trying to say is he understands quite a lot. Don't mind him though, he's British," Joe grinned, laughing at the hand that slapped him sloppily across the chest.

They partly wrestled with each other on the couch until Joe accidentally landed a jab across Billy's arm that caused him to groan and throw the fight, sitting back and rubbing his wound. While he sat and pitied himself, Joe put a hand on his back and looked at Rock in such a way as if something heavy was about to be thrown out there. Something that wouldn't be anywhere near easy to answer.

"How've you been really?"

And there it was. Fuck.

Without much of an answer, Rock put the can to his mouth and mulled, dragging time while he tried to untangle the mess his life had become and present it in a digestible manner. It would no doubt still look like a mangled dead bird in a brown paper bag after it got run over by a car. A month of goodwill did little to uproot almost a year of hell. While he sat in silence, Billy's bleeding got worse and he had to scurry to redress the bandages in the bathroom, leaving Joe and Rock alone.

The silence was allowed to drag a little more before Rock pivoted to a different topic when he felt short of answering how he had been. "How can you stand that…that guy knowing what he is and what he does and-and-"

"That any moment he could die given his line of work? Yeah, I…we've had talks about it. It's just a risk we gotta accept. So for what we have, what time I got with him, I enjoy it. He promises me to be careful and I get a feeling that his superiors are looking out for him too," Joe smiled a bit blearily. "He just gets a little reckless when in a rash mood."

"And the shady shit?"

"Yeah…there's a lot to them. You know, no one is wholly good or bad. It's too narrow and blinding. I mean, they are just people…"

So was Kain. So was Grant. So was Xanadu. So was Geese. So was every piece of shit who lay hands on Rock. So was every person who was privy to it and did nothing.

But so was Yamazaki.


To Rock's surprise, Kim stood in the middle of the courtyard with a weird look on his face when he came back with the rope. It had since stopped raining but the man was still soaked.

"Hey. I got the rope," Rock hopped off the bike and gestured to the plastic bag in its basket. "And the receipts."

"Thank you," Kim said and his smile was a little strained, enough to make Rock look around for any signs of Choi or Chang causing trouble or Yamazaki. But they were completely alone.

And the older man's brow furrowed a bit when he asked; "You signed up for a lot of newsletters lately?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"I don't think my explanation could do it justice," Kim directed Rock to the main household of his property.

The bike had to be dumped outside before they entered the house to the dining table where a massive pile of letters sat. Some of them had slid down to the floor and Myeng Swuk bent down to pick them up with a gentle smile. From the end of the room, Dong Hwan and Jae Hoon watched on with great curiosity.

"Wow. What on God's great holy green earth molded by his hands is this?" Rock uttered, surprised he was actually focused enough to not cuss in front of the two kids.

"Good question. I hope you don't mind me helping out with opening them," Kim sat by the table, neatly pushing a letter or two inwards to the pile. "Even if they are all addressed to you, pal."

"All of them?"

"All of them. Found them dumped by the gate in a garbage bag after you left. I guess the mailman must have been excited. Or you get a secret admirer," Myeng Swuk chirped as she put the letters in her hands on top of the pile. Sure enough, every single one of them had 'R. Howard' written on them.

Curiosity with an aftertaste of dread caused Rock to sit down in front of the pile and reach for the top, opening the first letter. It wasn't so much a message as it was an assortment of random words.

Stabbing, slashing, slicing, severing, shredding, skinning.

The letter in Kim's hand had something similar.

Dismembering, dissecting, disserving, disjoining, dislocating, disassembling.

Precisely twenty-six letters followed this pattern with the only difference between what letter the words started with. Almost as if the entire English alphabet had been recited in weird creep poetry. Myeng Swuk had saved the bag in which the letters had been stored and the most surreal version of the ABC song went into its maw. The first letter breaking away from this demented pattern made Rock's heart skip a beat.

'Red eyes, red blood,' it read.

Then as if some cruel god of fate decided to twist things a little more, there came a sharp gasp from Myeng Swuk. Rock looked at her eyes now stretched wide, her hands trembling, her skin a shade paler. Kim rushed to her side and took the letter from her, his reaction turning visceral at whatever he was seeing.

"Good god…" he uttered in shock and disgust. "This is evil."

"What is it? Can we see?" the boys came close but their mother quickly intercepted them. "N-no! Go to your rooms."

A slither of dread wormed its way down Rock's back and his skin began to crawl. Swallowing hard, he stood up and eased the letter out of Kim's hand while ignoring the concerned stare he received to look at its contents. Instead of random words, there was a printed photo of…what Rock could only describe as a slaughter.

Absolute demented carnage.

This photo had a young nude woman with her limbs all bent the wrong way. There was bleeding and bruising around the joints so they must have been snapped for the desired position. Her breasts had been cut off, revealing flesh, fat, and tissue underneath. Her eyes had been stitched open and a horrid gash stretched across her throat. The edge of the wound had turned blue with no signs of blood so she must have left to bleed out like a pig and cleaned up after the fact.

And on top of this, Rock recognized her. He had replaced the sparkplug of her car once. He read her glowing review of Crawley's auto shop in the newspaper a few days later.

In the corner, 'Ms. Plastic Princess, Lenny Creston. Her tits were fake, unfortunately, but her blood was very real' was written. Rock quickly crushed the photo and tossed it in the bag, taking a deep breath before the shock could really get a hold of him. He looked at Kim and they both stood there, unsure if they had the guts to open more letters.

There were so many of them.

"This is bad. This is really freaking bad," Kim said with an uncharacteristic shudder. "You could be in serious danger."

"…It could also be a sick prank," Rock mumbled in shock as he grabbed another letter, the last for the day, praying that this one would say sikes.

It did not. Of course, it fucking didn't.

Here was a picture of an old man with his limbs severed, then stitched back to the incorrect stubs. His head sat on a bed of his own entrails, which had been gutted out of him. His eyes were missing. The title to this was; 'The ancient one fought with wisdom. I want to see his knowledge of life through his death'.

"I don't think so. This is more than evil. It's depraved," Kim sneered as he gathered the remaining letters and tossed them down the bag, eventually snatching the picture of the old man and letting it join the rest. One letter, which was really a package, lay on the table.

Rock had to sit down to let the shock pass, staring blankly at Kim heading for the phone that hung on the wall. What was said faded into white noise as he looked at the one package. It was shaped like a square but the knowledge of it, the enigma of what it could hold, sent him into a mild fit of terror. His hands shook as he reached for it and tore the thing open to reveal a CD case. On its front, something had been written there with a marker; 'ICU'.

Kim stood over him in minutes and took the CD. He headed for the living room where the family computer stood. Usually, Myeng Swuk used it to send emails to her tech-dense parents in Korea. Now, Kim popped the CD in and waited until a window popped up. There were two folders, a .txt, and an MP4.

When all their titles were put together, they read as 'All Over With Blood'.

One folder contained more gore. Images and video clips of people being violently murdered and mutilated with witty titles. The folder had a series of pictures. All of Rock. Every single one of them. Taken over the week. Some were taken during the trip with Yamazaki.

Kim visibly swallowed as he clicked the text file and Rock's stomach dropped as he saw that it was a letter addressed to him.

Crimson eyes. Sharp eyes;

I love you. I love you a lot. I love you very much. I love your smile, it's no longer sad. I love your hair, it's very smooth. I love your hands that work so keenly on automobiles. I love the way you move toolboxes. I love how your bones dance so perfectly under your skin on a bike. I love how your flesh all connects seamlessly with nerves and tendons under your clothes. I love the smell of your laundry.

I love all the things I want to do to you.

I love the idea of cutting your eyes out. I love the idea of staring into them from my hand. I love to imagine cuddling your corpse. I love to think of removing your skin and wearing it like a scarf, so snug. I love to think of the sound your bones would make if I snapped them. I love to imagine the hue of red in your blood. I love to imagine your voice singing as I split open your stomach. I love to think of your warmth fading while you slowly die by my hands. I love to muse on preserving your decapitated head. I love to imagine the softness of your organs while I dig my hands through them. I love to wonder about the squish as I squeeze your detached spleen.

I hate that you're not mine.

I hate to not hurt you.

I hate that you're alive.

Love, Freeman. Your biggest fan.

"Uhm…." Rock stepped back, words failing him. His blood turned into ice, horror paralyzing his body.

Kim quickly closed the text and tentatively clicked on the video file. It was five minutes long, but Rock wished it hadn't been there at all. The video was following him from the Kim residence to Crawley's auto shop, hidden behind trees and shrubs. A cut showed another angle with Rock inspecting a car some elderly man had brought earlier.

It followed him during the entire workday through quick cuts then followed him home before cutting again. The last clip was dark to the point of invisibility. Upon further inspection, it turned out to be taken during the middle of the night, lingering at the window outside Rock's bedroom. The curtains were drawn so nothing could be seen. Whoever this Freeman holding the camera was, they were silent to an inhuman degree.

The final frame was a blue background with clouds and rainbows and a white text layered over it, reading 'Soon, Rock Howard. UwU'.

Fucking thing ended with a star wipe.

Rock whirled his head to his abode across the courtyard to see nothing but a few birds. Nauseous, his mouth dried and his throat glued shut. His heart raced behind his chest, his entire body trembled in primal horror. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Absolutely defeated, he staggered to the family couch and sat down with his head buried down his face.

No, Rock could fight and he could fight well. But there was something inhumanly horrific about someone gleefully reveling in how they wished to torture and murder you, displaying how they had been stalking you for a week. This could have been a prank. A really fucked-up one taken too far.

But who would do this? And why?

"Rock, look at me. I'll need you to tell me everything that happened since the funeral," Kim had knelt in front of Rock, putting his hands on the young man's knees.

Shame almost made him clamp up and in the end, he could only utter a weak refusal. "…I can't."

"Because of Yamazaki?"

"No, it's… it's not him. It's…complicated."

A long pause filled the living room before Kim responded. He smiled softly, worry etched into his face. "Either way, you can stay here for the night. I'll have the boys share a room."

Realizing the ramifications of this, Rock shook his head, trying to appear calmer than he felt. He could fight. All those lessons from Terry hadn't been for nothing. He just needed the shock to pass, double-check the locks, take a different route to work, and badger Yamazaki about knife defense when he came back. Staying in the same building as Kim and his family would just put them in needless danger.

"It's fine. I'll be okay," he said and hoped to God, he'd not be proven wrong.

Looking down at his hands, they were still trembling.


Damn that development, huh?

Also, Myeng Swuk is Kim's wife according to the SNK wiki. I don't think she has shown up in any of the games.

Also also; in Garou, Rock is the same age as Kim's sons. Nah, not in this story, son. Here, Rock is their cool older queer cousin.