(C/W: Insects under skin)

Crack. The impact threw Krause off balance and both he and Dion toppled over. Krause was worse off. His organic body parts were shoved to the floor, but his mechanical parts stayed where they were, bending his spine at an awkward angle. The trail of agonised swearing that followed was somehow even more difficult to decipher than Krause’s regular speech. 

Meanwhile, Dion’s shoulder hit the floor in a more calculated fashion, minimising the shock as much as possible. He swiftly kicked the knife out of Krause’s hand. 

Krause was still swearing and struggling to get himself back upright when Dion rolled over, blindly reaching for the knife. His fingers brushed something solid as he glanced back at Sanjay, entirely expecting to need to dodge a fireball to the face. Luckily, Sanjay was startled by the sudden attack as well. He stood wide-eyed, with his hands outstretched like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. 

Dion thanked Earth that neither of these men were quick thinkers. He used the mere seconds of opportunity to cut into the rope binding his hands before either of them had a chance to recover. With the knife and his empty hand out in front of him, he poised for their next move. He was free, but the door was still on the other side of the room.

Sanjay reacted first. A fireball the size of an orange came fast at Dion’s head. Predictable. It sizzled as it flew past and hit the wall. The fireball that followed was too close for comfort as Dion dashed toward the table in the centre to use it as cover. Krause suddenly appeared in a blur, fist aimed squarely at Dion’s face. The collision hurt so much that Dion felt the world spin and was nearly knocked off his feet. He wobbled to the side. 

Krause grabbed Dion’s collar and pushed him backward until he was pinned against the wall. That collision hurt, too, taking the breath out of Dion’s lungs. For a skinny man who looked like he’d seen better days, there was still a lot of strength behind Krause’s grip. 

Dion used the knife to slash the air between them. It was a wild, aimless swing. Regardless, it did the job. Krause was forced to take a step back, his grip on Dion loosening. But he wasn’t alone.

A hot jet of fire blew past Dion’s face, blinding him for a moment. It shouldn’t have missed. It should have barbequed him. They weren’t trying to kill him… yet. Dion didn’t want to know why. 

He turned his knife hand to cut at the arm that still pinned him, but something clamped around his wrist and twisted it uncomfortably in the other direction. It was so fast that Dion didn’t have time to gasp in response.

The flames disappeared and panic filled Dion’s heart when his vision adjusted. He felt the knife slip from his shaking hand as he stared into the other man’s eyes. It wasn’t Krause’s amalgamation of facial features. It was a face so perfect that it took Dion’s breath away; it was Ren. The fourth member of the excursion was Ren. 

Ren wasn’t some bargain-bin villain like the other three. He was Yoshida’s right hand and a cruel, ruthless creature who delighted in torture and manipulation. A thing of nightmares, even to those on the same team. Ren was never one to discriminate. In fact, the more he liked you, the more he liked to see you hurt.

Dion was a dead man who still drew breath. The universe had won.

As Ren drew closer with a wicked smile, Dion felt his body shaking well beyond his control. Ren didn’t have any ManaTech modifications. Not because he couldn’t afford them, but because he didn’t need them. He was a monster born in human form.

“I have a fun little surprise for you, Dion,” Ren whispered in Dion’s ear, sending a chilling shiver down his spine. “What a delightful coincidence that you delivered yourself to me right when I was feeling bored. It must be fate.”

A fist landed hard in Dion’s stomach, making him slump to the floor. Ren whistled sharply and without another word, Krause took hold of Dion’s feet and dragged him over to the table in the middle of the room. There was nothing on the smooth floor for him to grip, and even if he found something, Krause would have probably pulled Dion’s arms out of his sockets for his efforts.

“You should feel thankful,” Ren said as the other two men hoisted the writhing Dion to the table and strapped him down, “Mr Yoshida has decided to give you a second chance to redeem yourself.”

Oskar joined them, carrying a familiar shimmering brown paper bag and a small toolbox. He placed both down beside Dion without looking at him. It seemed like he was deliberately avoiding eye contact. Oskar looked unwell. Dion had never seen the ogre so pale.

The contents of the Janice paper bag were emptied onto the table, but Dion couldn’t fathom what it was. A clear box with a black wriggling mass inside it. The moving, wiggling things were too fast to make out their shape.

“You get to be the first to try this. It’s my newest invention, designed to keep naughty boys like you in check,” Ren explained as he slowly plucked a long, insect-like creature out of the box with a pair of tweezers. It thrashed in place; a segmented body full of legs like a centipede on stilts. Something small and shiny was stuck to it. If it hadn’t been bright yellow, Dion wouldn’t have even noticed it.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he? I’m sure he’ll make his way into your heart soon enough,” cooed Ren.

Krause snort-laughed, but Oskar and Sanjay both looked like they were going to be sick. They were trying hard not to make it obvious that they were staring at their own feet instead of paying attention.

“You might want to close your eyes for this next part. It’s going to be very, very uncomfortable for you,” Ren advised, taking the knife in his free hand while Krause pulled Dion’s shirt up to expose his bare skin. 

Dion could guess what was going to come next. He squeezed his eyes closed. His panting ragged breath sucked and pushed through his clenched teeth. Ren was right; he didn’t want to see it. He balled his fists and cursed the universe in his prayers.

At first, the pain was sharp. Then it felt like something blunt twisted between his ribs. A strange chill crossed his body as he went into shock, his mind blocking out whatever was happening until he drifted out of consciousness for a second time that day.

Soft humming brought Dion back. The room temperature was still sweltering. His drenched clothes felt suffocating. Ren was sitting on the table beside him, reading a book under the lamplight. He was the one humming, his face twisted into the most friendly smile. That’s what made it so haunting.

“What did you do?” Dion asked, trying not to sound too demanding. He was alive. Alive is good. Don’t push your luck. 

“It’s a tracker. A literal bug. I thought it was a cute idea.” Ren didn’t even look at Dion. He simply turned the page of his book.

When Dion shifted, he was surprised to find that he wasn’t tied down anymore, though he did feel like he’d been hit by a truck. The other men weren’t around. Neither were those bug things. It was just Dion and Ren alone in the room. That wasn’t a comfort.

“Careful, now. I had to flood your body with poison to kill the parasite before it ate your heart. I nearly lost you a few times.” Ren slipped off the table and offered Dion a hand to get up.

Dion didn’t take it.

“The parasite is dead, but the tracker is still in your chest. We didn’t want you to be able to dig it out and run away again. Mr Yoshida has decided you are more valuable to him alive for now. Dead men don’t tend to pay debts.”

It took all of Dion’s mental power to ignore the strange tightness in his chest. Don’t think about it. Pretend it never happened. Indigestion. He lifted his shirt to see where he’d been cut open and saw it was smothered in healing balm. The idea of something crawling around inside… he was glad he passed out. He felt sick. He needed to use the table to keep himself on his feet.

Ren clicked his fingers in Dion's face. “Are you listening, Dion? Mr. Yoshida has decided you’ll be his champion in this month’s game unless you can square your debt within the next two weeks.”

“What?” Dion snapped, staring up at Ren. “Two weeks? How am I supposed to get that much money together in two weeks?”

“You aren’t.” Ren shrugged. “It’s been fun, Dion. I’ll come back to get you soon.”

Dion watched Ren disappear through the doorway, leaving it open.

By the time Dion managed to stumble outside, the sun had already set. It was well past the time he told Atticus he would be home. Dion double-tapped his wrist and blinked. His DataCuff was gone. His bike and helmet, too. Krause.

“One day, I’m going to kill that scarecrow bastard,” Dion promised himself.