As Alice’s group hurried through the tunnels, Toffee did his best to navigate the rest of the way. The air grew heavier and colder, and as they maneuvered through the darkness, they crossed paths with nearly a dozen bodies. Picked apart to the point in which there was little left to even rot, the smell was nauseating, and the scene was as heartbreaking as it was gruesome.

Toffee was visibly sickened and tried not to react when Alice grabbed his hand. She had no idea of the depths he would go to protect her, and he cradled her tiny hand in his own, careful so that his claws didn’t scratch her.

The group turned a corner, and a few yards in front of them was a dead end and a ladder to climb up.

“Never expected to leave from here twice,” said Toffee solemnly.

Torie and Fritz exchanged a look, and Fritz nodded. They walked over to the ladder and Fritz began to climb, reaching the top and pushing the sewer grate up and over. Sunlight poured in and they ascended once more back to the city streets.

__________________________________

Across the city in the faction safehouse, Lux was walking into the kitchen to see the map his partner had created. Manfred leaned over the counter, inspecting his work and moving around the tokens and figurines he was using as placeholders. Lux hopped up onto the countertop and listened as his partner spouted off about the plan until he practically lost his voice.

“...And that’s about all I got.” Manfred said, wiping his forehead (because talking too much made him sweaty).

“It’s wonderful, babe. We’ve got this.” Lux held out his arms and Manfred walked over and leaned into the embrace. Manfred tilted his head up to meet his partner’s lips, and Lux began to trail down his lover’s jaw, planting purple lipstick marks all over his pale skin. He slowly undid the one singular button holding Manfred’s shirt together.

“What are you—what if someone sees?” Manfred looked down at his bare torso, feigning surprise. He took off Lux’s glasses and set them on the counter before disintegrating into his lips entirely.

The phone rang and pulled them apart, faces and ears flushing hot and pink. They looked at each other and hesitated; the friends they had contacted knew not to call unless it was an emergency, for safety’s sake. Lux hopped off the countertop and Manfred walked over and picked up the phone.

“It’s Torie,” said a familiar voice.

“Oh my god, Torie, are you okay? Holy shit.” Manfred smiled and turned back to Lux, who clutched his chest in relief.

“Yeah, I’m fine, we’re fine. Fritz is here.” It sounded like she had shoved the phone in Fritz’s face. He said nothing.

“Torie? Torie. Hey,” Manfred tried to get her attention.

“Hey! Yeah. Okay. Anyway, we’re with Alice from the bar, and her new babe, the super ripped guy who stabbed the man who shot Fritz!”

Manfred could hear Alice cry “What?!” and he began to rub his temples.

“I’m hanging up the phone, you clearly know where we are, meet us here ASAP.” The line clicked, and Torie wondered if she’d said something wrong.

A couple hours later, after carefully maneuvering the city, Alice’s group made it to the safehouse. Walking around to the side of the house, they entered a door that lead to the garage. There was a beat-up van parked inside with miscellaneous color panels, and both side mirrors taped back into place.

Torie rapped a coded knock on the door to the house and Manfred opened it up and hurried them in. They were met with a warm welcome as Lux walked into the room, followed by quite the unusual trio.

Persephone was tall and muscular, with thick curves and long, wavy pink and purple hair. It looked as if a portion of the skin on her face had been stripped away to expose fish scales, but it was merely a tattoo. She wore baggy teal pants with straps and buckles and a stretchy white crop top.

Janis was the shorter of the three, with brown skin and shockingly bright red hair, worn in spikes all over their head. They wore chunky black eyeshadow and a long-sleeved striped shirt underneath a black t-shirt, and black cutoff jeans. They waved their right hand, which was a badass and very cool light-up prosthetic.

Theadora stood taller than the rest, their long black and yellow hair tied tightly in a ponytail on top of their head. They wore a sweatshirt beneath black overalls which stopped above the knee, cuffed at the ends. Their legs were a little hairy and covered in tattoos, and they wore giant goth boots like Lena’s. They even wore fingerless gloves.

“We’re Jam Stoker. What’s up,” mumbled Theadora.

“I take it the sweet ride is yours?” Joked Alice.

“Oh, so you were eyeing The Queen Anne’s Revenge out there, huh?” Persephone retorted. Alice and Toffee looked at each other and tried not to laugh.

“Time to go, I think,” said Alice. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the left, across from the bedroom.” Lux answered.

Alice took Toffee’s hand and pulled him after her, away from the crowd and into the room, closing the door behind them. Toffee shut the toilet seat and sat down. She untied the piece of Torie’s shawl that she had used to stop the bleeding. He took off his bomber and unzipped his hoodie, exposing his bare chest and torso. There were more scars like the one across his eye, but Alice was too focused on his wounds to notice. He folded his jackets loosely and set them on the back of the toilet.

The wound in his shoulder was minor, the laser just having clipped the skin. The wound in his bicep, however, was gnarly as hell. He must’ve gotten blasted up close, and the adrenaline had finally worn off because it started to feel as rough as it looked. Opening the cabinet behind the mirror, Alice rummaged around for medical supplies before cleaning the wound on his chest. He flinched as she dabbed some antiseptic onto it.

“I know you’re hurting, but you aren’t alone in feeling that way,” she uttered. He looked up at her, startled.

“You were shot too?!” Toffee looked incredibly concerned, often taking things a bit too literally.

“No-- no. I’m okay. I’m not – I'm talking about in the tunnels.” She carefully rubbed some pain relief ointment onto the wound.

“When something unspeakable has happened to you, it follows you around, even after it’s over. It likes to remind you of itself just to fuck with you. Sometimes it’s a small itch in the back of your throat, other times it’s a crowbar to the kneecaps. And it does get easier, but that doesn’t make it hurt less when you’re experiencing it. And I’m sorry.”

A lump formed in Toffee’s throat, but he forced it back down. Nobody had ever been so thoughtful, yet so real to him. It felt like everyone he came in contact with saw him as a killer, when all he really wanted was some peace and quiet, someone kind to talk to, and a bunch of snacks. Alice looked through his darker aspects and saw him for who he was—someone vulnerable and worthy of kindness. He didn’t know how to accept this, though, because any warmth shown to him over the course of his short life had generally come with a hitch.

“Why are you doing this?” Toffee asked.

“Because you’re going to get super infected if I don’t.” Alice smirked. She placed a gauze pad and some bandages onto his chest and smoothed them down, sealing his injury.

“You know what I mean. Why are you being so good to me? You don’t even know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Don’t assume you’re the only one here capable of such things.” She paused. “Besides, are you not also capable of softness? Or beauty?”

Toffee's face reddened. She was so matter of fact when she spoke, and though she was often quite forward, she was rarely wrong. He could listen to her talk all night, and would’ve let her if she tried.

“I had a family once. They were quite the bag of mixed nuts, but they could do no wrong.” Alice laughed sadly, picking up the bottle of antiseptic and another piece of gauze.

“My dad wanted to be an actor, so he moved us out here. We lived with his sister and her kids in a big old house. It looked like shit, so we spent my entire teenage years fixing it up. That house was my dad’s pride and joy.” Alice gingerly cleaned up his arm. She rubbed the pain relief cream onto the wound and began to bandage it up, wrapping the bandages around his arm tightly.

“My sister Cora was a comic artist. When we were in high school, she would scan her drawings and email blast them to everyone we knew. When we were older, our cousins had her do some art for their band. They’d gotten pretty big locally, so the job meant a lot to her. She was still living at home with Dad and our aunt, but the rest of us had moved out.”

“Where are they now? They sound lovely,” asked Toffee.

“I got started doing what I do now and made a big mistake. I pissed off the wrong people and they threatened my family. I came home one night to find one of my cousin’s band posters, the one that Cora had drawn, lying on the kitchen table with a dozen knives stuck into it like a pincushion. I got them far as hell away from any trace of me. They had abandoned their careers and their lives for the sake of their safety, but the worst part of all was watching my dad leave the house. I don’t know where they are now or if they’ve forgiven me. Honestly, I don’t even know if I’m ever going to forgive myself.” She admired her handywork and rubbed his arm gently with her thumb.

Toffee paused, choosing his next words carefully.

“And the men that threatened them?”

“Oh, they’re dead as fuck. They won’t be a problem anymore. But I can’t just ask my family to come home. They will never trust me again. You’re, uh, all good by the way.”

Toffee stood up slowly, stretching his arms and looking at himself.

“I hope I look better than I feel, because I feel like that beat-up van.” Alice laughed and Toffee was glad he could make her smile.

“Hey, that’s The Queen Anne’s Revenge, put some respect on the name.” Alice took off her jacket and placed it with his.

“Your arm!” He gasped, reaching for her before catching himself.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. I just need a little assistance.” She rolled her sleeve up to expose where she had been nicked by the ghoul. It looked worse than it actually was. “Do me the honor?”

Toffee tentatively grabbed some gauze and tilted the bottle of antiseptic into it. He gently patted the cut, wiping away the blood and disinfecting the wound. He put some of the pain cream on his finger and softly traced the length of the scratch, before bandaging her arm and rolling her sleeve back down. He smiled sweetly at her and gestured her to come a little closer.

Alice stepped forward and Toffee rested the hand on his uninjured arm on the small of her back. She sank into him, leaning her head on his muscular chest (but carefully, to avoid his wound). They stood together in the bathroom of a secret safehouse belonging to virtual strangers, but this was the safest either of them had felt in a long time.