The Master Pathogen

[leatherpunk16]

Intermission #2: We Come Out At Night

Matt and Darin’s apartment. 19:53 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location.

Matt had never felt so trapped in a familiar place.

The apartment was small — too small, suddenly — and every inch of it seemed to echo with something he couldn’t remember. The crooked skeleton hand still hung on the curtain rod, its bent fingers pointing straight at him like it was calling out his guilt.

He sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the beer he hadn’t touched. His large hands looked foreign to him — strong, calloused, steady — but right now they were shaking. Tall, broad-shouldered, gym-built Matt Sutton never shook. He was the guy people asked to move furniture, open jars, deter creeps.

Except last night. Last night he wasn’t sure who he’d been.

The bathroom door opened with a soft creak.

Darin stepped out, toweling his sun-kissed blonde hair, the lean cut of his arms and shoulders glistening from the shower. He was smaller than Matt but carved, compact, like a gymnast made out of sharp edges and smirking confidence.

When he saw Matt still sitting there, he grinned like he’d found a Christmas present he forgot he’d wrapped.

“Oh,” Darin said, voice bright with mock delight. “Still here. Love that for me.”

Matt dragged a hand over his brown hair, trying to slow his breathing. “Darin, not today.”

“Today is the only day.” Darin padded barefoot into the kitchen, popping open a can of sparkling water. “You look like you’re about to cry into that beer, and I’m dying to help.”

Matt glared. “Just tell me what happened last night.”

Darin raised his eyebrows, taking a slow sip. “Mm. Straight to the begging. You didn’t even warm me up this time.”

“Darin.”

Darin set the can down, sauntering closer. The overhead kitchen light hit his hair just right, turning it gold.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head, “if you want the full recap, you should start by acknowledging how unbelievably adorable you are right now.”

Matt clenched his fists. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know you are.” Darin crouched in front of him, elbows on his knees, eye level. “That’s half the fun.”

Matt swallowed hard.

Darin smiled like a wolf discovering a weak spot. “You want to know what you did, big guy?”

“Please,” Matt whispered.

“Mmm. Magic word.” Darin’s voice dropped. “Let me see if I remember… You, drunk off your very pretty ass, came into my room. And you — tall, muscular, alpha-boy Matt — started climbing on top of me like you were starving.”

Matt’s breath stuttered. “That’s not— I wouldn’t—”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Darin patted his thigh. “You did. The big brown-haired heartthrob became very, very soft for me.”

Matt’s stomach twisted. “Darin, just—did we sleep together?”

“Maybe,” Darin said lightly. “Maybe not.”

“Darin—!”

“Why ruin the mystery?” Darin stood, stretching lazily. “You’re so much sexier when you’re confused.”

Matt felt a pulse of anger, shame, and raw fear shoot through him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am.” Darin leaned against the wall, casual and smug. “I never would’ve expected the alpha boy to be so… complacent. So needy. God, you clung to me.”

Matt’s face burned. “Stop it.”

“Begging for me to touch you. Whispering my name. You should’ve heard yourself.”

Matt pressed both hands into his eyes. He couldn’t tell what was real and what Darin was weaponizing.

“Did I cheat on Amy?” he asked, voice cracking. “Just tell me that.”

“You want the truth?” Darin asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Too bad I’m not gonna tell you, lover boy.”

Matt’s head snapped up. “Why?”

“Because,” Darin said with a shrug, “I’m not your diary. You don’t get closure from me. You get questions.”

Matt’s chest felt crushed. “I can’t tell her.”

“Oh, I know you won’t.” Darin grinned. “She’d burst into tears while you stood there stammering, and where’s the entertainment in that?”

Matt stared at him, horrified. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Only recreationally.”

Darin pushed off the wall and wandered behind the couch, leaning over the back so his face hovered inches above Matt’s shoulder.

“You know what else is interesting?” he whispered. “You’ve got a little tattoo on your ass.”

Matt went rigid. “How—”

“You do,” Darin sang. “And last night? I definitely saw it. Cute little thing. Very kissable placement.”

Matt’s heart slammed painfully against his ribs.

“You sure did like sucking on things, too,” Darin added casually.

Matt’s eyes flew wide. “What—?! Did I—did you—did we—”

“I’ll let you torture yourself figuring that out.” Darin smirked. “You’re so good at hating yourself. It’s kind of hot.”

Matt’s voice broke. “Please don’t do this.”

“Sweetie, it’s already done.”

Matt groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Darin ruffled his hair. “Oh — and about tonight?”

“Tonight?” Matt echoed, dazed.

“We’re going to a gay nightclub,” Darin reminded him. “Amy said so. Agreed that she was in the mood for some eye candy.”

Matt’s stomach lurched.

“And you,” Darin said, tapping his broad shoulder, “should maybe limit your drinking.”

“W-why?” Matt croaked.

“Mmm, because drunk Matt gets curious.” Darin’s grin turned wicked. “Would hate for you to wander into a backroom and end up grinding on a go-go boy while Amy’s in the bathroom washing her hands.”

Matt felt like he might vomit. “Stop.”

“Or worse,” Darin continued gleefully, “end up on your knees behind the curtain. You know those boys don’t wear much. Big boy like you might get hungry.”

“Darin—”

“And by the way,” Darin added with a shrug, “Amy handles her liquor way better than you. She’d be stone sober walking in on you moaning ‘this isn’t who I am’ while a pirate in glitter booty shorts rearranges your sexuality.”

“Darin, PLEASE....”

“Oh, the way you say please,” Darin sighed happily. “Exactly like last night.”

Footsteps climbed the stairs. Darin straightened, expression turning breezy and innocent.

“Showtime.”

The lock clicked.

Amy walked in, cheeks flushed, curls bouncing, her blonde ponytail slightly crooked. “Hi, babes! Why does this room feel like someone died?”

Matt forced a smile. His throat was dry. “Just—long day.”

Darin stretched. “He’s been thinking. Dangerous habit.”

Amy blinked but let it go. She kissed Matt’s cheek, warm and trusting. “Come get into your Batman costume! I wanna see my big strong guy. I already got my Catwoman outfit hanging up!”

Matt’s stomach sank.

Amy disappeared down the hall. The second her door shut, Matt slumped back, shaking.

Darin perched on the armchair again, smiling like a cat who’d knocked over all the glasses in the kitchen.

“You’re a mess,” he said. “And I love it.”

Matt looked up, throat tight. “You’re not going to tell her. Right?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Darin said. “This is far too fun to end.”

Matt closed his eyes in shame. Darin leaned forward, voice dropping again, all velvet and threat.

“Tonight,” he said softly, “you get to wonder which parts of last night were real… and which parts you just wanted to be real.”

Matt’s breath caught painfully.

Darin winked.

“Happy Halloween, alpha boy,” he murmured. “Let’s see what happens when the music gets loud and you get tipsy.”

—--------

Exterior of InfraRED nightclub. 21:04 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. 

The line outside InfraRED twisted down the block under pulsing red lights, the bass from inside vibrating through the pavement. Matt stood behind Amy and her girlfriends, towering over most of the crowd in his skin-tight Batman suit. His brown hair kept falling into his eyes; he pushed it back again, fingers trembling.

Amy was wearing her skintight cat suit and carrying a whip. And her friends were glittering, laughing sprites under the club lights. Darin stood with them, mesh shirt shimmering over his lean, defined body, looking completely at home, with a glittery pair of pixie wings.

Matt didn’t.

“Hey, alpha boy,” Darin murmured, stepping close enough for Matt to smell his citrusy cologne. “Remember—no drinking tonight. One drop of vodka and you’ll be humping furniture again.”

Matt flushed. “Stop.”

“Can’t,” Darin chirped. “It’s my calling.”

Amy turned around, blonde ponytail bouncing. “Babe! You don’t want your rum and Coke?”

Matt forced a smile. “Nah. Just… not feeling it. You guys have fun. I’ll be the designated driver tonight.”

“Responsible king!” she declared.

Darin snorted under his breath.

Matt’s cheeks burned. “Darin. Please.”

“Oh, I love when you say please.” Darin leaned in. “Just like last—”

“Shut up.”

Darin laughed and turned away, but Matt could feel his eyes still on him.

The line shuffled forward. A group of drag queens swept past like a cloud of glittering royalty. Matt couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. Every thump of bass felt like a warning.

Amy nudged him and pointed toward the alley. “Whoa. Look at that guy.”

Matt turned. A massive man stepped out of the darkness beside the club — short, muscular, half-naked, his skin painted pitch-black from his jaw down his torso, slick and glossy like oil. Even his eyes gleamed like polished obsidian.

He walked slowly, deliberately, scanning the line like he was choosing a target.

“What… is he supposed to be?” Brooke asked.

“A demon?” Jenna offered.

Darin squinted, then snapped his fingers. “Oh! He’s dressed like Venom. Right? The paint, the muscles, the ‘I might eat you’ vibe? Very method acting.”

Matt didn’t laugh.

The man tilted his head and smiled — wide, unnatural, teeth gleaming like something sharp hiding behind human skin.

Matt felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“That’s… not a costume,” he said quietly.

Darin scoffed. “Relax, Matt. It’s Halloween. Big dude in body paint? Calm down. You’re Batman, aren’t you? Brooding is on brand.”

The man took a step closer.

Darin grinned, playful. “Actually, he’s hot in a ‘please ruin my life’ sort of way. Wanna ask him if the paint rubs off—”

“Darin, stop.” Matt’s voice was firm, low. “Please.”

Darin blinked. “…okay, that one didn’t sound like foreplay. But I would let that man destroy me.”

The black-painted man let out a sound — a low, vibrating growl that rolled through the alley like something alive.

Matt’s pulse spiked. “We need to move. Now.”

“Dude,” Darin said, frowning for the first time, “it’s just a guy doing a Venom bit—”

The man moved.

Too fast.

Before Matt could register the motion, something wet and clear arced through the air and splattered across his face.

A glob of clear slime — hot, tingling, burning. Every muscle in Matt’s body went soft and overheated at once.

“What the hell—?!” Matt staggered, grabbing for the brick wall.

Amy screamed. “MATT?!”

The Venom-painted man lunged. He grabbed Matt’s wrist, fingers like steel clamps, and yanked him toward the alley.

“HEY! LET HIM GO!” Darin shouted, grabbing at the man’s arm.

The man turned and backhanded him without hesitation. Darin flew sideways, slamming into a dumpster with a sickening metallic thud. He collapsed, dazed, pain twisting across his face.

“DARIN!” Amy shrieked.

“CALL 911!” Brooke screamed. “NOW!”

Matt tried to fight, but his limbs felt hot and heavy, his strength dissolving under the burning slime. The man dragged him deeper into the alley, ripping at the thin Batman costume.

“No—stop—let go—” Matt gasped, but his words came out slurred, his head swimming.

The man shoved him against the wall. Then he bit him. Hard. Teeth sank into Matt’s shoulder, tearing through fabric and skin, sending a lightning-bolt of agony down his back.

Matt screamed. Amy screamed louder. People in line scattered, shouting for help, pounding on the club doors.

Darin, groaning, staggered to his knees. “Let… him… go…”

The man didn’t.

Didn’t even look at him.

He tore at the suit like it offended him, dragging Matt deeper, deeper into the shadows.

Amy’s voice cracked with terror. “MATT! PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP HIM!”

Security was running.

People were calling 911. 

Sirens in the distance.

But Matt was going numb, his vision swimming as the heat from the slime spread through his bloodstream, fogging his thoughts, twisting something inside him.

The man’s teeth sank deeper. Matt’s knees buckled.

Darkness rushed in.

[leatherpunk16]

NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS:  After today's posting, we'll be taking a break from our usual serial for the Christmas season. This will give us time to catch up on a backlog, and also give you time to catch up with previous chapters. It's a long read, and we're only halfway through, so this little break is necessary for everyone. 

Thanks for sticking with us this far. There's still more story to tell, so click the "follow topic" button at the bottom of the page (or wherever it is), and you'll get the update when Act 3 begins. 

[Frustrated]

 I am so hooked on the way this story is evolving and look forward to Act 3 after Xmas. It looks as though Matt is going to soon lose his bodysuit in the dark alley and he is already sensing the heat from the slime going through his bloodstream, resulting in him feeling erotic pleasure in preparation for penetration by the large black skinned dick so receiving his first load of black sticky toxic cum. I really like the way this is developing into the wider community and the need to constantly search for new victims.

Well done @leatherpunk16 and bring it on!

[leatherpunk16]

1 minute ago, Anone said:

 I am so hooked on the way this story is evolving and look forward to Act 3 after Xmas. It looks as though Matt is going to soon lose his bodysuit in the dark alley and he is already sensing the heat from the slime going through his bloodstream, resulting in him feeling erotic pleasure in preparation for penetration by the large black skinned dick so receiving his first load of black sticky toxic cum. I really like the way this is developing into the wider community and the need to constantly search for new victims.

Well done @leatherpunk16 and bring it on!

Kspozcum wrote this scene. Compliment HIM. But we appreciate your interest and how much you are enjoying this. It's been a blast to put together. 

[Frustrated]

Thanks @kspozcum for the hard time consuming work you produce as the author.

[Frustrated]

I hope others who read this brilliant ongoing story would also express their thoughts. 

[pdmiller1172]

I very much love this story! I get rock hard reading it!

[kspozcum]

On 12/7/2025 at 7:57 PM, Frustrated said:

Thanks @kspozcum for the hard time consuming work you produce as the author.

Actually, its a shared labor with @leatherpunk16. We've been working on this since June. Both of us writing and proof reading each other's contributions. Both of us are the authors. 🙂 

[drscorpio]

On 11/28/2025 at 10:12 AM, leatherpunk16 said:

NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS:  After today's posting, we'll be taking a break from our usual serial for the Christmas season. This will give us time to catch up on a backlog, and also give you time to catch up with previous chapters. It's a long read, and we're only halfway through, so this little break is necessary for everyone. 

Thanks for sticking with us this far. There's still more story to tell, so click the "follow topic" button at the bottom of the page (or wherever it is), and you'll get the update when Act 3 begins. 

I am glad I finally got a chance to read the whole thing through again. I appreciate the time and care you both are putting into this. 

[leatherpunk16]

The story resumes Friday morning. Be sure to tune in.

[leatherpunk16]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, pigs. Here begins Season 2 of "The Master Pathogen". Expect a new episode every Friday from us. We appreciate your sticking with the story, and the Christmas Special. Happy reading! (And wanking, as the case may be.) Without further adieu....

------------------------

Chapter 21: A New Kind of Army

Clearview University Medical - Dumpf Tower, basement. 19:44 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location.

In 1874, the prominent Prussian-based Dumpf family built a hospital and convalescence center for survivors of the American Civil War. At the time, it was considered revolutionary and shined like a new penny, but as the decades rolled on, the structure began to weaken and show its age. Rooms felt cramped, as 19th century patients had no experience with big medical equipment that began to fill hospitals in the 20th century; ceilings were often too low, it became outdated, and big building construction technology had improved considerably since its founding. By mid-century, the plumbing needed to be gutted entirely and replaced with non-lead pipes, but the walls were filled in with asbestos and other material that is now considered hazardous.

The state refused to let go of the facility, and in the later half of the 20th century, the Dumpf Medical Tower was under seemingly constant renovation. One area would be fixed only for another to need attention, and it was much like chasing roaches around a slum. Among the many problems with the decaying hospital were regular issues of black mold, faulty plumbing and water leaks, frequent electrical problems, an antique elevator that always seemed to be out of service, and a crumbling foundation. Financial needs also became an issue, due to the expense of constant upkeep of the building, and Clearview University stepped in to give the place some measure of support to keep running. It was renamed Clearview University Medical Dumpf Tower to show this support to the public, but the locals still referred to it by its old name. Several investors also pledged to donate different wings, but only two were built in the years that followed: the Schott wing, a secure wing for mental health patients, and the Gussler wing for pediatrics. Clearview subsidized these building projects as well, and the name remained attached to the new places.

By the 21st century, the building was considered “vintage art deco”, but a rising water table on the site forced the county to find a new permanent home. 

 

Finally, a new medical facility broke dirt early in the decade for what would become Clearview University Medical. Millionaire Robert Steighn contributed hugely to the fund for the construction project, and a wing of the hospital was named for his family. But the Dumpf Tower remained, providing healthcare for very specific needs, and was eventually abandoned within a few years. While preservationists worked round the clock on getting Dumpf Tower a historic landmark status to prevent a total demolition, medical professionals and patients alike appreciated the shiny new facility, which had none of the difficulties of the crumbling old hospital. Dumpf Tower became a cold relic that only collected dust and cobwebs. Despite being initially saved for storage, Clearview didn’t see the value in keeping the place operational insofar as the heating and working plumbing.  

In this space, the Alpha and his converts had relocated their base of operations. A perfect place to hide out until a more permanent situation became available.

The soldiers and scientists, worn out from their abrupt move and the orgies, had slept most of the day. Night had fallen, and as they were waking from their slumber, the Alpha came into what was formerly a cafeteria, now stripped completely of furniture and fixtures, save for a single large chair perched upon a naturally-occuring rise in the floor. It would serve as a dais for the Alpha to oversee his team, and he came in with a somewhat guilty look on his face.

“Apologies for the delay,” the Alpha explained without being asked. “A few loose ends needed tying up. Our prisoner has been sedated and locked in the Schott wing, and we can now proceed without interference.”

“Welcome back, boss,” Stag said warmly. “You’re looking particularly sinister tonight.”

Gravestone only looked at him with distaste. A little early in the night to be licking boots, Stag, don’t you think.

“Are you all ready for a night of chaos? Tonight we make our move,” the Alpha asked, calmly but cold, clapping his hands once, commanding.

Gravestone was the first to answer. “Yes, Alpha, but we are starving. This place has no food or running water. We need to do something about it.”

Lockjaw quickly appeared at his side, stroking his floppy cock all the while. “We can’t fuck on an empty stomach. Feeding off each other’s loads can go on for only so long.”

The Alpha only stared back at them, silently weighing his options. When he finally spoke, the darkness of the room seemed to bend around him. “You’re right. We feed, like any predator. Nothing less.”

Stag snickered. “Alpha, if I may. I’ve got a great idea. Let’s just Doordash everything, and recruit the delivery driver as well. Make it a full-on gangbang. He’ll never see it coming.” His smartassed comment actually raised a short, sharp laugh from the others in the room, but the Alpha only raised an eyebrow in response. 

That’s pretty fucked up, Stag. Buuuuuuut…

The Alpha pursued his lips, and shook his head. “No, we’ll do better than that. I like that you’re thinking with your dick, but it’s too passive for my taste. I was thinking of something more aggressive and active. We’ll take what we need directly.”

“What do you have in mind, Alpha?” Lockjaw enquired.

“We will go out and get supplies. Men of Black Sigma, you are the best-suited to this task, and will serve as our First Strike team. Sticks and Lockjaw, you will pay a visit to the Mega Mini-Mart on 32nd and Broadway. Take Patch and Pixel as backup, and carry whatever food you can bring back here. Get enough for a few days.”

Pixel turned his head to Lockjaw, and then back to the Alpha. “Alpha, none of us have any money on us to buy anything. Do you want us to steal?”

The Alpha gazed out over his team from his elevated rise. “Your greatest weapon is within you. Use it. Silence those who oppose us, and dominate the weak. If they survive, they are worthy, and can be made to join us. Do not bring substandard specimens on, but recruit the best you find. Only the worthiest. All of you are charged with this task.”

The many smilers nodded silently. The worthiest, huh? Stag thought. I know just the one, and he’ll never see it coming. Stag’s chest heaved as he inhaled deeply at the exciting thought of spreading the infection.

“What are we going to wear?” Patch asked. “We can’t go around the city completely naked. Some of us brought our military fatigues, but others like Zero or some of the older brothers don’t have a stitch of clothing on them.”

“He’s right,” Lockjaw confirmed. “And with our physical improvements, people will certainly see us as we are.” The other smilers murmured in agreement. The Alpha wasn’t expecting this level of resistance and questioning from his new recruits.

“Did you forget it’s Halloween night? This is a lucky coincidence - if done right, the ‘normal people’ will just think you have an elaborate costume. But you do raise a valid point, we can’t go around naked. It’s too high profile, and public nudity isn’t legal here. Much easier to work in stealth and not draw unwanted attention. Gravestone, advance.”

“Alpha?” Gravestone stepped forward, and instinctively snapped at attention as a soldier should. Shit, I haven’t done that since before my promotion to ‘commander’. Not even for Krell.

The Alpha smirked with approval. He’s accepted it. Very good. “You, Zero, and Beau will pop into the clothing stores downtown. Grab whatever you can that might fit, but not for yourselves. These will be for the men I personally converted. Except for Stag.”

Fuck you, Alpha, Stag thought defiantly. Leaving me out? Then Stag remembered his own gear was stashed away, brought over when they changed hideouts. 

 

“What about the rest of us?” Garrett asked while shifting his weight.

“Some of you will stay here with me,” the Alpha continued. “We need to keep our guest restrained, and I would not have him get away before we’re done with him. I want this to be a covert operation, so no side-trips or going back home. And don’t fucking kill anyone. That’s high profile. No converting women, either. Oh, Stag, go find us a water supply. The plumbing here was turned off after they all moved to the new hospital, so we must have something to drink. I can’t piss down your throats on an empty bladder.”

“You got it, boss,” Stag answered with too much enthusiasm. He had no intention of following orders. Finding water is work for one of these other pissants. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. And I do mean “bigger”!, he thought with a deviant smirk. The Alpha, having heard this thought, eyed Stag suspiciously, but did not answer him back.

“You have your orders. Now get dressed, and get ready for a night of hell on earth,” the Alpha concluded, taking a seat on his makeshift throne. “You there,” he said, snapping his clawed fingers once. “Get over here, and nurse my cock.” A smiler who was wearing only one shoe silently drew near the Alpha, fell on his knees, and wrapped his lips around the deeply infected dick.

The recruits got dressed, but some of them found that their old clothes which they had worn comfortably a day ago were now almost too tight. Patch’s uniform was quickly discarded by him, and the baggy pants got passed to Stag, who found them a little too short, but his newly-formed muscular quads filled out the rest nicely. As the soldiers and scientists passed misfitting clothes between them, only Sticks, Patch, and Garrett had a complete ensemble at the end of it. Others were topless, or wearing shirts too small for their large, distended frames. One smiler was completely naked, nothing available fitting him at all, and another found himself standing in boots two sizes too large. He clomped around the floor in them, much like a small child trying on his father’s shoes and making a joke of it. 

The Alpha ignored the annoying sounds, and focused only on the pleasure he was receiving from the smiler on his knees. He closed his eyes, and sent out a message to all his followers.

Go now. Find food, and recruit. Bring a new friend back with you. His head raised slightly as he remembered something important. He focused on Zero, who was uncomfortably standing idle and waiting for his commander to lead him, until he had the soldier’s attention. 

Zero, come here. Only you can hear my voice right now. You were not naturally made one of us. Prove your loyalty. Zero approached the Alpha quietly, expecting he would have to perform oral sex on him when the other smiler was finished. 

I do not trust Stag to stay on mission. When you can, break away from the others and follow him in secret at a respectable distance. Stop him if he means to betray us.

—---

Elias and Trevor’s apartment. 31-Oct-20XX. 19:52 MST. REDACTED LOCATION.

Elias’s head began to ache again. Then the mysterious voice came into his head from seemingly nowhere. His eyes had been closed, his head resting back on the cushion on the couch, and when the voice appeared, he raised his head and snapped his eyes open at once.

“Holy shit,” he said with awful realization. “They’re mobilizing for Halloween night.” How the hell do I know that? Am I becoming… telepathic? 

Elias forced himself up from the couch, pushing his headache aside. “I’ve got to do something,” he said with desperation. “I can’t just sit here and let this happen.” He put his shoes on, grabbed a light jacket, and put his water glass in the sink. Shoving his hands into the pockets of the jacket, he found his keys. Then he raised his face to the ceiling as he processed a new thought.

What do you think you’re going to do, Eli?, he thought. Do you even know where they’re going? No one’s going to believe you if you try to warn them. ‘Halloween shenanigans’, remember? He sighed with frustration as he discovered there wasn’t anything he could possibly do to prevent the smilers from spreading the infection and wreaking havoc. He sat back on the couch, trying to think of locations where the smilers might go, and how he might intervene if he encountered them.

He cast his eyes to the window, and saw only darkness without. They could have done this at any time. Why wait til nightfall? Because they’ll be harder to spot? He closed his eyes once, trying to get his mental gears turning. 

But Elias came up empty. I don’t know where they will be. Not even a clue to get me started. May as well just sit here and think. He considered calling Tex, but he doubted he would have any guesses, either. Elias was wracked with indecision.

No! You must go out, and infect, too! You’re part of the team, like it or not. Go NOW!, the mysterious intruding voice commanded.

Whoever you are, fuck off! I’m not doing your dirty work. Elias shot back. Tell me who you are! The voice didn’t answer, but Elias imagined its source laughing at him.

“If you’ve got nothing else to say, then we have nothing to discuss,” he said aloud without realizing until he’d said it. “Get out of my head!” Elias felt a bestial growl welling up inside him. “Nobody’s controlling me!” He jumped to his feet, and decided. I’m going out, but not to be part of the chaos. They must be stopped. We can start with downtown. Better go out prepared.

Elias marched with determination to the bedroom, his heart pounding in his ears, and instantly went to the closet. He took down a small metal box, and after inserting the key, he opened it. Pulled out a small revolver, and checked the barrel. No bullets. Elias opened a second metal box containing only ammunition, and with shaking hurried hands, he struggled to load the weapon. Eventually the bullets went in, and he closed the chamber.

Something stronger than tranq darts this time, he thought as he inserted the last one.

Setting the loaded revolver down gently, Elias took a shoulder holster down from the shelf, and put it on, then placed the gun into it. He promptly put on the jacket over it, knowing his concealed carry license and active duty made it okay to go out armed.

Elias then tried to send out his own telepathic message to its unknown source as he went back to the front room. Whoever the fuck you are, consider this my desertion. If you want me so badly, you’ll have to get to me first. I’m not part of your army, and I won’t fight for you.

Elias was equally surprised when he got a response of dark laughter. We’ll just see about that. You’ve already recruited one. You won’t be able to resist getting another. A shudder went through Elias’s full body as he realized the voice was right. An angry fire began to grow in his heart, and it was matched by an urge to fuck anyone unlucky enough to cross his path. It would be so much easier if you just cooperated. So much more pleasurable for you.

“It would, wouldn’t it,” Elias answered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. His burner phone suddenly rang, causing him to jump with alarm.

“Hey, it's me,” Tex said in almost a panic. “I just watched Dr. Grant get kidnapped by a smiler! I tried to chase after them, but these fuckers are fast!”

“You've gotta be shitting me,” Elias said incredulously. “What happened?”

“He was acting weird when we closed up at the camp, so I tailed him. He went to a corner store and bought some flowers, and then he took them to the cemetery. He was… visiting someone. A friend, I think.”

“Are you there now?” Elias asked.

“Yep,” Tex answered. “I kept my distance, but he knew I was there the whole time.” Tex stopped for a breath. “Eli. He knows who we are. He saw last night’s mission brief, and outright accused you and me of lying to our superiors, and he knows we were there.”

Elias knew this was bad news, but surely not the end of it.

Tex continued, “He knows my codename, and knows we escaped the quarantine. And all of a sudden, this figure descended on him, and spirited him away. It looked like a smiler. I think they are looking for him, too. There's no way that was accidental.”

“Shit,” Elias whispered. “Stay there and out of sight. I'm on my way.” Elias dashed out the door, slamming it without meaning to in the process. His footsteps were heavy, and echoed loudly as he charged toward the stairs, causing a neighbor to poke her head out a door. 

“Hey, where’s the fire?”, she demanded. Elias didn’t bother to answer her, and hit the door at the bottom with all his bodyweight. It made a loud sound as the two collided, and Elias was out in the autumn night in under a minute.

Elias practically sprinted to his car, and jumped in. He shoved the key into the ignition with a little more force than was needed, and as soon as the engine turned over, he put the car in reverse, and backed out of his usual parking spot in a flash. Then the car zoomed out of the neighborhood, completely ignoring any speed zone rules. 

—

The first thing Clark Grant noticed when he came back to himself was the smell.

Old antiseptic. Rust. Damp plaster. That unmistakable rot that settled into abandoned buildings long after the last human breath had left them. It clung to the back of his throat, thick enough that swallowing felt like work. He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t.

The ceiling above him sagged, cracked tiles yellowed with age and water damage. A fluorescent light buzzed weakly, flickering just enough to keep him from forgetting where he was. Hospital. Or what remained of one. His wrists were bound to the metal rails of the bed—too loose to hurt, too tight to ignore.

“No,” he breathed, the word leaving him before he could stop it.

Not here.

Memory surged back in fragments: the graveyard, cold mud soaking through his shoes, headstones looming like crooked teeth. The sudden pressure at his back. Hands—strong, deliberate—guiding him down, not rough, not gentle. Certain. Then darkness.

Clark tried to sit up. The bed creaked in protest, chains rattling softly. His pulse spiked, not with fear, but with a sharp, burning anger that settled into his chest like a live coal.

Of all places.

His gaze drifted, unwillingly, to the far wall. The peeling paint. The rusted IV stand. The old heart monitor shoved into a corner like trash. He knew this room. He had memorized every flaw in it once, had sat here counting cracks in the wall while pretending not to watch the life drain out of the man he loved.

“You son of a bitch,” Clark muttered.

The door opened.

Not slammed. Not creaked. It opened smoothly, as if the building itself obeyed him.

The Alpha stepped inside.

He looked wrong in the room—not out of place, but too present. Like the walls had bent around him to make space. His posture was relaxed, hands loose at his sides, expression calm in a way that made Clark’s teeth grind.

“Well,” the Alpha said mildly. “You’re finally awake.”

Clark barked out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “You drag me out of a graveyard and dump me in a fucking corpse of a hospital, and that’s your opener?”

The Alpha smiled.

It wasn’t cruel. That somehow made it worse.

“You were difficult to catch,” he replied. “I don’t enjoy chasing. Or maybe I do. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Let me go,” Clark snapped. He pulled against the restraints again, metal biting into his skin. “You don’t get to do this. Not here. Anywhere but here.”

“Yet here you are, Clark.”

Clark’s vision blurred for just a second. He forced it back into focus, jaw tightening. “You always were a bastard,” he said. “Always. Even before all of this. You think I don’t see it? Think I don’t know what you are?”

The Alpha tilted his head, studying him with something like curiosity. “And what am I, Doctor Grant?”

“A coward,” Clark shot back. “A control freak hiding behind fear. You take what you want and dress it up like destiny.”

The Alpha chuckled softly and stepped closer. The air felt heavier with every pace he took, pressure settling over Clark’s skin, his lungs, his thoughts. Clark refused to look away.

“You put me in this room on purpose,” Clark continued, voice shaking now despite himself. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You think this will break me? That I’ll beg for you to let me go?”

The Alpha stopped at the foot of the bed. His smile didn’t falter.

“No,” he said gently. “I think you’ll remember every last detail.”

Clark snarled, straining forward. “You don’t get to talk about him. You don’t get to use this place like some sick leverage. I saved lives. I watched him die in this room. You don’t get to—”

The Alpha leaned in close enough that Clark could see the faint glow in his eyes, feel the hum of something ancient and vast just beneath his calm exterior.

“When you feel like cooperating,” the Alpha said quietly, “I’ll come back.”

He straightened, turning toward the door.

“Until then,” he added, glancing back over his shoulder, “consider this… a reminder of what happens when you refuse to accept what you are.”

The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.

Clark lay there, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling as the light flickered overhead. The room pressed in on him, heavy with memory, grief, and something darker still.

Slowly—carefully—his breathing evened out.

“Idiot,” he whispered to the empty room.

Because the Alpha thought he’d brought him here to break him.

And Clark Grant would never tell him how wrong he was.

[Menbendovr]

Hahahaha!  I love the acronyms.

Clearview University Medical = CUM

Then we have Dumpf Tower, so we have CUM Dump…f

CUM Schott Wing = CUM Shot

CUM Gussler Wing = CUM Guzzler

CUM Steighn Wing = CUM Stain

I love it.  I wish I had gone to that university.

[Menbendovr]

Where is the next chapter?

[kspozcum]

Chapter 22: Darkness on the Edge of Town

City Streets. 21:02 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location.

Elias drove like a madman through the city to reach St. Barton’s cemetery. As he did so, his mind was racing, flooded with images of smilers and Tex and his squadmates, and theories about what might be going on. He imagined a multitude of awful scenarios of events that had no basis in fact, and were only the conjurings of a panicked mind. 

“He’ll be fine, and stop thinking of the worst,” Elias kept telling himself as he drove. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Finally, the large iron gate that fronted the cemetery came into view, and Elias felt like time was slowing down as he approached it. Parking the car in a convenient accessible spot, he turned off its engine, and practically leapt from the car. Tex was already coming toward him from the gate, looking shaken but otherwise normal. Elias took a mental sigh of relief as he saw that his friend was unharmed and had not become a smiler. 

“Thank fuck you’re here, Eli,” Tex said gratefully. 

“Are you hurt?” Elias asked quickly.

“No, the thing didn’t touch me at all.”

“Good. I don’t want to see you get hurt, too. Tell me what happened.”

Tex recounted the bizarre sequence of events: Dr. Grant’s odd behavior, the discovery of Pixel’s data drive, the encounter at the cemetery, and the abrupt abduction that left Tex with no real answers. As he spoke, Elias kept getting flashes of things that he took to be the product of an overactive imagination – one involved a nightclub. Another was a convenience store. And a third showed him something involving an EMT crew. The images would flash across his brain for only an instant, leaving him with echoes that he couldn’t understand. As they poured in, Elias kept forgetting to listen to Tex’s story, but Tex didn’t seem to notice that he didn’t have his friend’s full attention.

Elias put his cold hand to his forehead as if a headache was coming on. Tex took the gesture to mean that Elias was processing all his details. 

“What are we going to do?” Tex finally asked.

Elias shook off the last of the strange visions. “Do you have your gun?”

“In the glove compartment.” 

Elias pulled his jacket open to one side to show his own weapon.  “We’re going to stop them. There’s… been a new development.”

Tex blinked once, and his face went slightly slack. “Aw, hell, what now?” Whatever the news was, it was going to be bad.

“I heard the voice again right before you called. Whoever is leading the smilers has started mobilizing them. If they’re not stopped tonight, the whole city could be overrun with smilers by morning!”

“Shit. Then we better get going.” Tex and Elias started moving toward Elias’s car. “But where are they going? Do you know their plans?”

Elias inhaled sharply before speaking. “I have some ideas. Been getting glimpses of what they’re doing. Most of it seems to center around downtown and the warehouse district. I’m going to start with downtown, see if I come across any of them.”

“I’ll come, too.”

“No, I think we ought to split up,” Elias objected. “Covers more ground that way. You can at least warn people if one of them shows up. You know what to look for, but civilians don’t.”

Tex weighed this, and nodded his head, though he wasn’t sure about the idea of separating again. “All right. That’s probably better. The more lives we can protect, the better. My car’s over there.” Tex pointed in the direction of his earlier parking.

“Great. Call me if you discover anything.” Elias hesitated before re-entering his vehicle, and turned back to look Tex square in the eye. “Even if it’s one of our team, don’t hesitate to shoot him.” 

“Shoot to kill?”

“Only if you absolutely must. We’re soldiers. We know what we sign up for.  But self-preservation takes priority. Trevor would kill me if something happened to you.” He embraced his friend, aware that it might be the last time they see each other. Tex accepted the gesture, and said nothing. When the embrace was broken, Elias heard the voice again.

He’s vulnerable. You’re alone. Breed him now! It would be so easy. Just tell yourself it’s your husband.

Elias felt his manhood stir as he gazed on his friend. Nervous butterflies welled up in his gut as the sexual tension cried out for release. Elias felt a growl of lust grow in his chest.

You can do it. It’s your mission, soldier! 

A small pool of saliva caught in Elias’s throat. He could just spit it out on Tex’s face, and start the mating process, and this would all be over for both of them. One little slip. Just open your mouth, and let him have it. It would not be your first time infecting.

Elias prepared the slightly grey ball of slime for ejection, and in an impressive act of self-control, he spat it to one side, missing Tex completely. Tex looked at him with surprise and curiosity.

“Smiler spit?” Tex enquired, already knowing his friend was near the precepice.

“Plehh. Yeah. It’s gross. It’s like a sinus infection.”

Tex recognized that as his cue to disappear before Elias lost all control. “I… uh… I’m just going to go now. Be safe, pardner.” With that, Tex turned and hurriedly rushed back to his own vehicle. His feet couldn’t get him there fast enough.

A sudden flash in Elias’s brain had him staggering weakly, and without a doubt he knew exactly where he needed to go next. He could feel it: Zero begging, pleading not to be forced to go through with his attack as he could feel Zero’s jaws clamp down onto someone’s shoulder.

Zero. Zero was a weak link in the chain. And he needed to act fast if he wanted to keep it that way.

—-----

Alleyway, Warehouse District. 21:22 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location.

The music was the last sane thing he could hear.

The heavy, pounding bass from the nightclub pulsed through the alleyway like a heartbeat — steady, human, normal. A reminder of life. Of people. Of safety.

Mason clung to it mentally even as his body dragged the man—Matt, they’d called him Matt—farther and farther away. His nails dug into Matt’s wrist, grip iron-tight, muscles moving without permission. The stranger stumbled behind him, weak and shuddering from the infection-slime already working its way beneath his skin.

No, no, no—stop—stop making me move him—stop making me hurt him—

But Zero moved anyway.

Each step carried him deeper into the alley, past dumpsters and rusted fire escapes, until the glow of neon faded and the thumping bass softened into a distant echo, then into silence. Concrete walls boxed them in. Night air sank cold teeth into his overheated skin. Shadows stretched long over the pavement.

Zero stopped walking only when the music was completely gone. When the world was quiet enough for him to hear the sound inside his own skull.

That awful, suffocating command.

A pressure like an invisible fist tightening around the softest parts of his mind.

Obey, Zero.

The Alpha. The voice slid into him like hot wire, coiling around every nerve, every thought.

Zero — Mason — gritted his teeth, body jerking as he attempted to resist. His spine arched involuntarily, muscles spasming, breath coming out in hitched bursts. He felt tears sting his eyes, not because of pain—even though the pain was unbearable—but because of the helplessness.

“I don’t want this,” he whispered inside his own mind, the words barely forming through the static. “I don’t want to do this to him. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

His brain pulsed in response — a psychic blow that made the edges of his vision blur.

You exist to spread me. Use the gifts I have given you and follow my wishes willingly. Or I will make you hurt.

The Alpha’s voice was a roar, but also a whisper under his skin.

Mocking. Commanding. Triumphant.

Zero clenched his jaw, fighting to stay himself. Fighting to remember anything that wasn’t this haze, this fire, this crawling pressure under his skull.

Just breathe. Remember something else. Anything else—

A flash. White lights. Sterile hallways. The cold metal of an examination table against his spine.

Krell’s voice thanking him for his “service” as the infection needle slid beneath his skin. Another flash.

Blood on the ground near the back of an ambulance. The horrified gasp of an EMT. The man’s face — young, terrified — as Zero’s body lunged without warning.

Zero felt nausea twist through him.

God. No. No, I hurt him. I hurt him—

He remembered the bite. The taste of copper. The sickening slicing of skin giving way.

But he also remembered—dimly, desperately trying to hold onto the thought—that he had angled himself away from the EMT’s throat at the very last second. Using whatever remnants of control he had to avoid the major vessels. Avoid killing him.

Please be okay, he begged silently. Please.

His shoulders shook.

Matt groaned faintly behind him, the man’s legs barely holding him upright. Zero turned to look at him — and for a moment, Mason surged up in his own body, horrified at what he saw.

The bite marks on Matt’s shoulder were already darkening. The edges pulsed faintly as the infection spread. The man’s breath came in soft, broken whimpers, half-conscious, helpless.

Zero reached out, trembling, wanting to support him, to keep him from falling—

But the Alpha shoved his thoughts aside like sweeping dust.

He is yours. Complete it. Add him to our ranks.

Zero’s knees buckled. He collapsed halfway, catching himself on one hand, the other still locked around Matt’s wrist. His head dropped, hair falling into his face, breath shuddering through clenched teeth.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered internally, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to be this.”

The Alpha’s laughter pulsed like a migraine.

Your desires are irrelevant. You were made to obey. Krell may have done it wrong, but you are mine regardless.

A choking sound tore from Mason’s throat. His mind throbbed, vision going white at the edges as the Alpha tightened its psychic grip.

Matt sagged against him, weak and pliant. Zero caught him reflexively—and hated himself for how instinctual the movement felt. For how natural the Alpha made all of this seem.

“N-not him,” Mason begged inside his head. “Please—anyone but him—”

The Alpha ignored the words. Ignored the tears. Ignored the humanity. The pressure increased.

Zero’s back arched sharply. He slapped a palm against the concrete wall to stay upright. Matt slid partially down, barely conscious.

Finish it. Make him ours, Zero. NOW.

Zero bit down on a sob, trying desperately to anchor himself to anything that was his. His name. His memories. His reason.

Mason Hawke. Mason Hawke. I’m Mason Hawke—

But the Alpha crushed the thought instantly, like grinding glass under its heel. His body twitched violently. Matt stirred weakly, reaching out a trembling hand toward Zero, eyes unfocused.

That single human gesture — instinctive, reaching for help — nearly shattered Mason.

No. Please. Don’t touch me. I can’t stop myself. Please. Please… run…

But Matt couldn’t run. And Zero couldn’t stop. And the Alpha whispered triumphantly in the bleeding ruin of his mind.

The alleyway felt like it existed outside of time. Once the club’s pulsing bass faded into nothing, the darkness pressed in around them, thicker and more suffocating with every passing second. Mason could still sense the faint echo of neon lights flickering somewhere behind him, but here, in this deeper pocket of shadow, the world narrowed to only two things: the burning in his veins and the limp, fever-warm weight of Matt’s body against his own.

Matt clung to him without strength, his fingers curling weakly in the torn front of Zero’s suit. His breath came in shallow, trembling bursts, and the infection was already beginning to twist his reactions — making him seek contact, heat, anything to ease the overwhelming internal wildfire consuming him. When Matt lifted his head to look at him, his eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide. He wasn’t fully conscious, but he wasn’t unconscious either; caught in some agonizing, feverish middle ground.

“Please…” Matt whispered, the word slipping out of him like a breath he hadn’t meant to release. His voice was slurred, desperate, soft in a way that made Mason’s chest ache. “Don’t… don’t go… feels too hot… I need something… I need you in me…”

Zero froze, but the Alpha didn’t hesitate. A psychic pressure tightened inside his skull with an almost physical force, urging him to act, pushing him forward like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. Mason tried to force his muscles to still, to create space between their bodies, but the Alpha’s command overrode him instantly, sending a tremor down his spine and compelling his hands to settle on Matt’s hips, pulling him closer.

Inside, Mason recoiled. He begged. He pleaded. He told the Alpha that Matt wasn’t choosing this — that he wasn’t thinking clearly, that he was infected and fever-delirious. But the Alpha dismissed every thought with cold indifference, focusing only on the primal need to spread itself further. A voice that felt like hot wire wound tight around Mason’s mind repeated its command with delight in his helplessness.

In his arms, Matt trembled, his body arching subtly toward the contact. “Please,” he murmured again, more breath than voice, “I’m burning…”

Mason felt his throat close. He didn’t want this. Not like this. Not with someone who wasn’t in their right mind — someone he was supposed to protect, not violate. But his hands kept moving, numb and mechanical, as if detached from him entirely. The Alpha’s mental grip tightened, squeezing out any resistance he tried to muster, forcing him to prepare Matt in the way the infection demanded. His fingers shook as he touched the waistband of the torn spandex suit, and when Matt shuddered in response, the Alpha pulsed a note of satisfaction through his mind.

Tears blurred Mason’s vision before he realized he was crying. He pressed his forehead to Matt’s shoulder, trying to find some part of himself that would still listen to reason, some part that hadn’t been drowned out by the infection’s influence. Matt sagged against him, barely able to support his own weight, his breath hitching in small, pained gasps that made Mason’s heart twist further.

He whispered internally to the man in his arms — apologies, pleas, promises he couldn’t keep — anything to feel like he wasn’t completely gone. But the Alpha continued pushing, relentless and cruel, punishing any attempt to stop or slow down with spikes of searing psychic pain.

Mason’s grip tightened involuntarily as the Alpha forced his next movement.

Zero’s head dipped down, almost in shame and guilt as he slowly began to pull Matt’s black spandex pants down over his ass, watching as he seemed to arch into his touch. With one smooth motion, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard and throbbing cock, and quickly spit in Matt’s face, watching as he seemed to relax more.

“At least it won’t hurt for you like it did me.” Zero whispered to himself, swallowing thickly as he gently rubbed the man’s back.

He pulled Matt’s hips to his own and in one hard motion, breeched his ass and methodically began to fuck him, feeling as his cock began to leak inside the warm tight confines of the man’s ass. Refusing to focus on the feeling around his cock, the pleasured murmur in his mind from the Alpha, the way his balls seemed to ache with the need for release into the now-willing flesh underneath him. He tried desperately to ignore how Matt groaned and sighed, sounding like his world was now complete with the monster Mason had become claiming his body for infection.

His awareness seemed to fracture as he went through the motions. His consciousness receded into a tight, shaking corner inside himself while his body acted on a script he never would have chosen. He sobbed openly now, forehead pressed against Matt’s fever-hot skin, each breath a tremor.

He felt the Alpha surge again, a dark wave of triumph as it sensed completion approaching.

“Please…” Mason begged inside his own mind, though he had no idea who he was speaking to anymore. “Someone… stop me… please…”

And then something shifted in the air.

A faint sensation, like weight displaced. Like a presence intruding. Mason felt it before he heard it — a crackling tension brushing against the edges of his awareness.

A voice followed, sharp and familiar, cutting through the haze like a blade.

“ZERO! STEP AWAY FROM HIM.”

Zero jerked violently, his entire body recoiling even before he registered the source. He lifted his head, tears streaming down his face, and saw a silhouette framed at the mouth of the alley — tall, steady, gun raised with unwavering certainty.

Elias Kade. Reaper. Aiming a gun with tense hands squarely at him.

Recognition hit Mason with brutal force. Relief, shame, longing, panic — all tangled inside him like barbed wire. His lips parted, and a broken, grateful sound escaped him before he could stop it.

“E… Elias…”

Saying the name felt like touching a live wire. The Alpha erupted inside him, enraged by the defiance, slamming agony through his skull so violently he nearly collapsed. His fingers spasmed, finally releasing Matt completely, letting the man slump onto the ground beside him.

Mason fell with him, clutching his head, trembling uncontrollably as the Alpha punished him.

Elias stepped closer, voice no longer sharp but cautious, steady, coaxing him back from the brink.

“Zero… look at me. Stay with me. Let go of him and just listen to the sound of my voice.”

Mason curled inward, shaking, unable to stop the sobs tearing from him. He could barely hear Elias over the Alpha’s violent screaming in his mind.

Until the voice changed. Softened. Shifted into something only one person ever said to him.

“…Mason. Please. I know you don’t want to do this.”

The world stilled.

Something inside Zero cracked wide open. With a desperate, guttural breath, he dragged himself toward the sound he’d been aching for, the tether he needed more than air. He surged forward, collapsing into Elias’s arms with the last of his strength, burying his face against the man’s chest as the Alpha reeled in fury.

Elias caught him without hesitation, arms tight, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

The moment Zero collapsed against Elias, the Alpha screamed.

It wasn’t sound — not in the physical sense. It was a pressure, a violent psychic wail that clawed at the inside of Mason’s skull, trying to wrench control back, furious at his act of rebellion. His body convulsed, muscles tightening in jerks as if someone had jammed live wires beneath his skin.

Elias tightened his hold, grounding him with steady strength. “Zero—Mason—look at me. We have to move. Now. The cops will be here any second and they’ll call the paramedics to help him. He’ll be okay.”

Mason nodded weakly, forehead still pressed against Elias’s shoulder, his clawed fingers clutching the fabric of Elias’s coat like a lifeline. He knew the Alpha was only seconds away from forcing his body to lash out. He could already feel the twitch in his limbs — the subtle beginning of a command he didn’t want to obey. To attack his friend and incapacitate him.

“I’ll go,” Mason rasped. “Just… don’t let go. Please don’t let go.”

Elias swallowed hard, something flickering in his expression, and eased Mason upright. He kept one arm around him, the other raised with the gun firmly trained on Zero’s center mass. He moved with the caution of someone approaching a bomb with a loose wire.

And Mason didn’t blame him. He welcomed it.

“Good,” Mason whispered, voice raw. “K-keep it pointed at me. If I change—if I snap—just do it.”

“Don’t say that.” Elias’s voice was low but firm, strained by something deeper than fear. “Just keep talking to me. Stay here. Stay present.”

Together they staggered out of the alley, Elias supporting most of Zero’s weight even as he kept the gun steady. Behind them, distant shouts echoed — security guards, club staff, frightened partygoers calling for help — but Elias guided them in the opposite direction, slipping into narrower, darker streets where no one would follow.

Mason’s breath hitched as the Alpha hissed again inside his skull.

Traitor. You will pay for denying me! For siding with that abomination!

A spike of pain shot down his spine, forcing him to double over. Elias caught him, steadying him before he could collapse. Zero clung to him on instinct, fingers curling into Elias’s coat as another tremor ran through his body.

“Easy,” Elias murmured, his voice rough with controlled urgency. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“You don’t,” Mason whispered, shaking as he forced the words out. “He—It—The Alpha—he wants me to attack you. He’s screaming at me to turn around. Every time you touch me he gets louder.”

Elias adjusted his grip, pulling Mason closer against his side as they hurried down another block. “Then hold onto me harder,” he said quietly. “If it keeps him out of your head, just do it.”

Mason nodded and did just that.

He pressed so close to Elias that their steps synced, his breath trembling against the collar of Elias’s jacket. And strangely — impossibly — the Alpha recoiled. The psychic pressure didn’t fade, but it shifted, disoriented, like the proximity to Elias disrupted its signal.

“Eli…” Mason choked, voice barely audible. “Stay close. Please. It confuses him. It hurts him.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

Another wave of agony hit Zero’s mind. This time he groaned aloud, pulling away just enough to brace himself against a brick wall. Elias’s gun tracked every movement, barrel unwavering, eyes sharp and pained at once.

“Talk to me,” Elias commanded. “Stay with me, Mason. Don’t let him pull you under.”

Zero shook with effort, using the wall to keep himself upright. “He’s telling me to bring you to him. To knock you out so he can bring you to his side. Over and over. He’s angry I didn’t finish—finish what he wanted with the man. He says you’re next. He says he’ll take my body and use it to—” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Elias stepped closer slowly, the gun still up but his free hand hovering near Mason’s shoulder. “You won’t,” he said, though his voice trembled with the weight of uncertainty. “I trust you more than he does.”

Mason huffed out a pained, broken laugh. “You shouldn’t.”

“I should. And I do.”

Another twitch rippled through Mason’s arm — a sharp jerk toward Elias. The Alpha testing its control. Zero sucked in a breath, slammed his fist into the wall to stop the motion, and cried out as pain radiated through his knuckles.

“Keep it pointed at me,” he gasped. “If he takes over, don’t hesitate.”

Elias’s jaw tightened, but he nodded once. “Understood.”

They moved again, hurrying down the block. Mason leaned into Elias — clinging to him, using him as an anchor, as a shield, as the only thing that kept the Alpha from seizing his limbs completely. He could feel the Alpha pushing, stuttering, writhing in confusion each time Elias steadied him. It was almost like Elias’s presence created interference — like he was the only signal strong enough to weaken the Alpha’s hold.

Finally, Elias slowed.

“We’re almost there,” he said, breath visible in the cool air and looked back down the alley way at the crumpled form on the ground. Flashlights were now shining on it as indecipherable yells echoed across the buildings. “The car’s on the next street. The police found him and will get him to the hospital.”

Mason nodded, trembling violently, sweat cold on his forehead. Every step felt like walking on a knife’s edge — one wrong move and the Alpha would shove him into a violent lunge. Elias must have known that, too, because he kept the gun raised until they reached a nondescript black sedan parked under a flickering streetlight.

He opened the back door one-handed and guided Mason inside before sliding in right next to him. The gun never left his hand. He kept it trained on Mason even as the car door shut with a muffled thud.

Mason collapsed sideways, pressing his forehead against Elias’s shoulder again, breath ragged. “Don’t stop pointing it at me,” he whispered. “Not until I say.”

Elias swallowed, then nodded, adjusting his grip on the weapon. His other hand hovered a few inches away, hesitant but ready to steady Mason again if he faltered.

Zero curled in closer, shaking uncontrollably.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I’m trying so hard to stay myself.”

“And I’m right here,” Elias said softly. “As long as you hold onto me, he doesn’t get to win.”

Mason closed his eyes, clinging to the warmth of Elias’s presence like a dying man holding on to the last light he could still see.