What now? (working title)

by AcidWolfHusky

Summary:

Bodies were reanimated with blue vines and moss. The vines glowed at the slightest hint of sound.
The undead where blind but knew exactly where noises came from.

You're only hope is to pray they won't hear you.

Chapter 1: Worried

Summary:

TW: none

Just some small world building, chapter 3 is when it gets interesting

      Tango was hunched over his desk, tinkering with redstone parts. Tools lay scattered throughout his work space, his clawed hands caked in the red, gritty dust. His only light being a small lamp, clamped to the edge of the metal standing desk. Tango wasn’t really trying to get anything done, just messing around when he felt a slight tap to his shoulder. 

 

      “Gak-gah!”

 

      The man behind him laughed, slightly muffled by his cloth face mask.

      “Etho!” the blond yelled, his fiery hair simmering down, and his heartbeat slowing to normal. 

      “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” Etho said, leaning a hand on Tango's workbench. 

      “What are you still doing here anyway?” Etho asked. Tango blinked up at him, confused. “It’s almost one, was just about to leave myself, but I saw your station lights were still on,” he yawned.

      “Oh, uh…” Tango paused, looking away from his friend. “I wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon, was probably gonna pull an all-nighter… again,” he grinned sheepishly, looking back at his tall friend. 

      Etho looked over Tango’s pale face. The dark circles were a stark contrast to the bright red of the blazeborn’s eyes. Etho was an easy people reader, but Tango simply wore his emotions on full display, his tail gave it away more often than not. The long, thin appendage swayed when content, thrashed when angry or agitated, and the tip of it flicked back and forth when he was concentrating, among other signs. But now? It hung low, almost dragging along the tiled floor. It didn’t sway or flick, his tail just layed limp. 

      It made Etho worried. He let out a long, heavy sigh. “Let's get you home, Tango,” he said, tightening the low ponytail in his snow white hair.

      The fiery blonde straightened up at that.

      “I’ve got stuff to finish first,” Tango turned back to the scattered redstone parts. 

      “Don't make me call Skizz,” he threatened.

      “You know that man’s asleep by now,” Tango grumbled, grabbing at a red covered wrench. But it was quickly grabbed by Etho’s fingerless glove-covered hand, making his clawed fingers stained with redstone.

      “You know just as well as I do that it wouldn't matter one bit to Skizz if we woke him up, but you haven’t said one ‘skadoodle’ nor have you ‘ificate’ed anything, something is wrong,” Etho said leaving no room to argue. Not that Tango even had an excuse. Etho was right.

      Tango left his work bench without a word, shuffling over to the utility sink in the corner of the room. Soap and water slicked his grit covered hands, washing the shimmering dust down the drain. Etho attempted to make small talk while the blond was preparing to leave. 

      “So what were you working on?” Etho wondered, his soft, white fox ears moving towards any noise as Tango fluttered about.

      “Nothing, just messing around,” the blazeborn murmured. Tango hung up his redstone covered, heavy duty apron and made sure there was no glittering dust on his face. Then he grabbed his wallet, phone, and the lanyard full of keys from a small side table by the door.

      “Had to get away from something? Someone?” he asked, walking behind Tango out the door and down the hall. The old gray carpet scratched on both men's paw pads. 

      “No, just needed some quiet Tango time,”

      Etho tilted his head, stark white hair falling in front of his cloudy gray and blood red eyes. He wanted Tango to elaborate his simple statement. He knows Skizz can be loud, but he also knows the man can read a room quite easily. But maybe it isn't Skizz. Maybe an outing? Hanging out with others? Etho’s not sure.

      “Zed and Impulse stopped by, stayed for lunch, and we played some games,” the blond shrugged. “Mario kart, Party animals, Monopoly, that kind of stuff. I left early, they can get real loud. I tried headphones and music, but my hearing is too good. So I left, walked here and I’ve been here since… three? Maybe?” He slowed to walk next to the fox.

      Ah. So it was about Skizz. Oh caring, smiley, lovable Skizz, can be such a blind fool. Skizz can read rooms, but Etho can read people. 

      Tango continued to speak, but more about the games they played and how Zed was ‘stupidly good’ at Monopoly. Etho glanced over to see the blazeborn’s tail starting to sway in sync with his own.

      The drive was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Tango was nearly falling asleep with how warm the inside of the car was.

_____________

      Skizz was both relieved and worried when he saw a familiar black car pull to the side of the road in front of his house. Right behind his dark blue 1994 Chevy Silverado and Tango’s bright red, mud stained Jeep Gladiator. Tango was crushed in Skizz’s large, warm arms as soon as he stepped out of Etho’s car. Impulse and Zedaph were quick to join the angel, encasing the fiery blond even more.

      Skizz pulled away with a firm grip on Tango’s shoulders.

      “We tried calling you for hours! We almost reported a missing persons report to the captain. Why did you leave without telling us?” the tall angel gently shook Tango. His ocean eyes were full of relief but had concern hidden deep within. 

      “Sorry Skizzle, I really needed some quiet time and headphones weren’t working, I tried to say something but you were too focused on your game,” Tango sighed. “I’m surprised Doc didn’t tell you I was still at The Perimeter.”

      “I don’t think he even knew you were there, Tango,” the fox chimed in, leaning against his 2021 Lexus LC500. The blazeborn’s sigh was interrupted by a yawn. 

      “Let’s get you to bed buddy,” Impulse gently said, leading the blond inside by a large hand on his back. Zedaph baaed in agreement, waving Etho goodbye. His cloven hooves clopping loudly on the pavement as he followed the two inside. 

      “Thank you, Etho,” Skizz turned to the tall fox. “I was worried he got hurt.”

      Etho waved him off.

      “After about two minutes of talking with him and no ‘skadoodle’, I knew something wasn’t right,” he shrugged, smiling under the dark navy cloth. “Just glad there wasn’t a fight between you guys or anything.”

      “Yeah, me too,” the angel smiled, heading into the warm building. “Goodnight, Etho, text me when you get home.”

      “Ok, Dad,” Etho rolled his dual colored eyes, getting into his car.

 

      “Do you need anything?” Zed fussed. “Water? Something to eat? I could make something real quick if you need, I promise it’s not a prob-”

      “Zedaph, I’m alright, I’ll just need to take some melatonin or something, okay?” Tango smiled tiredly at the sandy blond sheep. His long, lion-like tail brushed against the short wool of Zedaph’s leg, hoping to reassure him.

      “Go get some rest, TangoTop,” Skizz ruffled the blaze’s warm, bright blond hair. The angel watched his tail sway lazily as it disappeared up the wooden stairs.

Chapter 2: Bakery

Summary:

TW: none

Little bit of TreeBark

      “Martyn!” the dog-man yelled as he bounded down the hall.

      “I’m in the kitchen, Ren,” the blond called back, looking up from his phone and watching his lover trot up to him. 

      Ren was always adorable in Martyn’s eyes. His long brown hair fell over his shoulders in soft waves, the few strands of gray stood out like streaks of silver. It was normally tied back in a ponytail or a braid, but it layed loose for now. He probably wanted Martyn to tie it back for him. Ren was dressed in his well-loved, worn out blue jeans and one of Martyn’s dark green hoodies. The man’s pointed, dog ears were a shade darker than his hair and looked cleanly brushed. 

      Ren’s clawed paws padded and clicked on the clean white tile of the kitchen floor. He slid off and folded his sunglasses when he cuddled into Martyn’s side, wrapping his lean arms around the man’s ribs. 

      “Need something, Ren?” Martyn asked as he scratched at the other’s soft ears. The brunet’s chocolate colored tail had started to lazily wag at the soft petting.

      “Nah man, I’m just gonna be out for a bit, go to the bakery nearby and take a small walk,” Ren explained as he stood up straight, planting a gentle kiss on the blond’s cheek. A soft smile forming on Martyn’s lips, feeling Ren’s rough facial hair scratch against his own.

      “Want me to tie your hair up for you?” he asked. The dog-man stepped back with a sheepish smile. 

      “Please?” Ren produced a soft bristle brush from his back pocket. Handing it out to the other with the best puppy-dog eyes he could manage. Martyn stared back, sky blue meeting sapphire. 

      “You know you don’t have to give me puppy eyes to get what you want,” he turned the brunet around and gathered the soft brown strands in his hands. Martyn tenderly got the knots out and took care to not catch on his pointed ears. 

      “High, low, or braid?” Martyn as Ren hummed. 

      “Low and loose please.”

      The blond grabbed the black elastic band from his wrist and looped it around Ren’s hair. The tie sat low on the man’s neck before Martyn threw it over his shoulder, placing a kiss to the exposed tan skin. 

      Ren grinned as he turned into his lover's arms, his fluffy tail swayed happily behind him as they shared a short kiss. They stayed close as Martyn spoke. 

      “You want me to join you?”

      Ren made a dismissive noise. 

      “I’ll be alright,” he pulls away, running his clawed, wood callused hands down Martyn’s arm until he interlocked their hands. “Plus, Doc will be home soon and you know how uncomfortable he gets if he’s home alone for too long.”

      Ren frowned at the other’s heavy sigh and eye roll.

      “Yeah, I know,” Martyn paused. “Just hurry back,” he let go of the dog-man’s hands with a kiss to his knuckles.

      “I will,” Ren smiled.

      On his way out the door, he grabbed his bundle of keys out of a small wooden bowl. It was Doc’s idea to put the three bowls by the door for their keys and wallets. Martyn always misplaced both, and Ren would put his keys on the kitchen counter and someone else would later move them. Doc had offered to just buy them as it was his idea, but Ren had other plans. 

      He thought back on the memory as he strode down the sidewalk, remembering carved those bowls by hand. He sat in his wood workshop for weeks . Martyn will forever call it Ren’s ‘Royal Quarters’ when it was just a shed in the backyard. He had used redwood to create the decorative dishes. It was soft and it split easily, making it difficult to work with, but Doc loved the color and Martyn read it as ‘renwood’, and he never stopped calling it that. He usually only carved hardwoods, they were great for almost everything, utensils, dishes, figurines, and much more. But he wanted to learn how to carve the soft wood because both of his partners liked the redwood, so he persevered. 

      He remembered how difficult it was to carve their names into the inside rim. The angles he had to put his wrist at to get the perfect small curves in the letters. Even if hand carving full names was difficult, it was fully worth it to see his lovers’ faces when he showed them. But Ren didn’t think their names were enough. He ended up carving two small pictures on either side of their names. Doc got front facing goat heads. Ren gave himself paw prints. And Martyn got small pine trees.

      The dog-man pushed his sunglasses up as he crossed the street with his destination in sight. The smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries filled his nose. A small jingle of a bell above him notified the employees of his presence when he opened the glass door. 

      “Hello! Welcome to the Bad Boys Bakery!” chimed the blond haired man behind the counter. He wore a maroon sweater under a leather jacket. A pair of dark sunglasses perched atop his short, fluffy hair. The most prominent feature however being the bright tri-colored parrot wings folded against his back, with a much smaller pair relaxing at the sides of his head. His name tag read ‘Grian’. 

      “Hello! I have an order under ‘Ren Dog’,” he smiled, coming up to the dark counter. The short blond turned to a computer screen on his right, pressing a few buttons.

      “For two loaves of cinnamon bread?” Grian asked, ignoring a loud crash from a door behind the counter. It made Ren jump, his polite smile dropping into a concerned frown. Grian just waved him off. 

      “Um, yes, the cinnamon bread,” Ren nodded. 

      “It’s been kept in the back to keep warm, feel free to sit, I’ll be right back,” the avian politely excused himself to the same door that muffled yelling came from, order ticket in hand.

      The concern only grew when a much taller blond was seemingly pushed out of the room, almost barreling into the parrot. He was also an avian, but with golden yellow feathers. Ren wasn’t sure what kind of bird he was. He had a black shirt under a faded dark blue denim jacket, sleeves rolled up, showing off lean but strong looking forearms. From where Ren stood, he could see a studded belt holding up black jeans, decorated with different length hip chains. His fingerless gloves were sleek black leather, they looked new. The silver knuckle studs reflected the bright overhead lights as he talked with his hands.

      There was another guy across from the golden avian, the one who he assumed pushed the blond. He was a brunet with a streak of forest green that fell between dark eyes. The guy wore a white t-shirt under a distressed leather biker vest, revealing seemingly strong arms. The leather was black and well worn with spike covered shoulders.  He had black jeans too, baggy and long, almost covering studded black platforms. 

      They were shouting, but Ren was too busy analyzing the three before it suddenly went quiet.

      The shortest one in red was now inbetween the others, but he now wore a deep glare and ruffled feathers. Ren had to bite back a smile at the man’s flour covered face. The tall avian didn’t seem to care however and threw his head back in a hearty laugh.

      “Grian! Why’d you get in the way!? That was meant for Jim!” the brunet shouted, his arms exaggerating his words. He also had black fingerless gloves. His looked older than the blond’s and didn’t have knuckle studs. But his wrists were adorned in black leather cuffs, those had many long, dulled spikes on them. The one thing that stood out in his outfit however, it being a shiny gold ring on his left ring finger. He wore all silver, so the sudden golden jewelry looked almost out of place.

      Grian huffed, flour being puffed out of his nose like an angry dragon. He shoved the order ticket into the brunet’s palms.

      “Just get this guy’s order for him while I clean myself up,” the parrot squawked, brushing past the brunet into what is probably the kitchen. 

      The gold avian looked confused for a moment, watching the two leave. Before he glanced to the front counter where Ren was trying and failing to hide his toothy grin behind his palm.

      “Ah, I apologize for that,” the avian, ‘Jim’, nervously laughed. The small yellow wings next to his ears were pressed tight against his blond locks. Ren waved him off with a chuckle. 

      “No problem my dude, I’ve had a pretty uneventful day until now,” 

      Jim sighed with a breathy chuckle, coming up to the stand in front of the dog-man on the other side of the counter.

      “I wish I could have a calm day every once in a while, but with these two being my colleagues and roommates, I can never catch a break,” he said with a fond but tired smile. 

      Ren could sympathize with that. It usually wasn’t calm and quiet at home. But Doc went to The Perimeter extremely early that morning so there haven't been fights or arguments between Doc and Martyn. Ren is still surprised that they tolerate each other enough to live together, Ren knows that they only stay for him. Him and Doc had been in a relationship for almost five years, and best friends for much longer. Ren met Martyn at a Dungeons and Dragons campaign at their local mall. And Ren being polyamorous, he fell for the british blond man. He fell hard .

      Unfortunately, Doc wasn’t the biggest fan of Martyn. The blond was loud, louder than Ren, was quite messy and he tried to anger Doc as much as possible. Whether that be messing with his redstone or just getting in the way while cooking. But Doc loves Ren and would never tell him who he can or can’t love, it wasn't his place. He knew the implications of dating someone who was polyamorous, and Doc didn’t care. 

      Ren handed his card over to Jim when the brunet came back over with a brown paper bag. His nametag read ‘Joel’.

      Ren thanked them with a small bow of his head and his bread in hand, he headed back home.

Chapter 3: Oh god

Summary:

TW: Blood, yelling, violence, mild seizure
(tell me if I missed anything)

This is where things get rough

      When Ren got back home and didn’t see Doc’s gunmetal gray 2020 Kia Optima Hybrid in the driveway, he got a bit concerned. Doc would have informed him if he was staying late at The Perimeter. But Doc can get caught up in his work sometimes, it could have easily slipped his mind. Even if it’s never happened before.

      Ren sighs to himself in the warm summer afternoon and goes to unlock the front door. He can hear his blond lover loudly singing along with a pop song he doesn’t know as the lock clicks open. 

      Martyn is cooking something that smells like chicken, fake chicken and plastic cheese. Chicken nuggets and boxed mac and cheese, Martyn’s specialty. Sounds like a delicacy to Ren’s hungry mind.

      “Work late Doc? Dinner isn’t extravagant and I know you work oh so hard, so I made sure the nuggets were extra crisp this time,” Martyn called from the kitchen, teasing sarcasm dripping from his words.

      “Martyn,” Ren spoke with a disappointed sigh. He watched the blond jolt, obviously expecting a thick German accent and not Ren’s smoother tone. 

      “Ah, uh, welcome back, love, Doc still working?”

      “I don’t understand the problem you have with him and I don’t think I ever will,” the dog-man sighed and set a paper bag onto the kitchen island. “I picked up the cinnamon bread you like,” he said with a tight lipped smile. 

      Martyn sighed as he turned off the stove and moved to face Ren. An unidentifiable expression painting his face. 

      “I guess I just don’t see what you see in him.”

      Ren raised a questioning eyebrow.

      “You aren’t poly? Martyn I’m not asking you to like Doc the way I do. I’m asking you to get along with him. At least enough to where the almost daily arguments end,” Ren growled to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. Letting out his frustration in guttural sounds instead of raising his voice.

      “Please don’t take my words the wrong way,” the brunet looked up from the floor. Pointed dog ears now pinned to his head. “I’m not defending Doc, I know he does the same stuff, maybe not nearly as much as you but he’s at least trying to befriend you,” a suffocating pause. “Even if it’s only for my sake,” Ren now sounded close to tears. Voice scratchy and sapphire eyes becoming glassy. He was desperate. He just wanted his boyfriends to get along well enough to live together without fighting. 

      “Ren-” Martyn started, getting abruptly cut off by the front door slamming open. There was probably a hole in the drywall now.

      “Ren!” the tall man in the doorway yelled. He was panting and gripping the sides of the door frame. The wood creaked under the strength of his redstone wired claws. 

      The two other men clutched their chests, trying to calm their racing hearts. Neither were afraid of Doc, but he can look frightening at times, especially when agitated.

      Doc was not only almost as tall as the doorframe, but his large pointed goat horns made him have to duck to get through most doors. But he had broad shoulders and strong legs to balance the height. His face narrowed into a short goat-like snout. His eyes however did not portray the prey animal his snout suggested. One eye was a striking, vibrant green, pupil slit like a reptile with an ink black sclera like it was purposefully tattooed that way. The other eye, the left one was sunken in, glassy, red and glowing with its redstone wires woven into Doc’s skull. 

      His green fur covered chest heaved, trying to take in more oxygen, without much luck. His eyes wide and crazed, locked onto his brunet lover. The scent of gunpowder and sulfur rolled off his fur like snow on pine branches. 

      Ren held his hands out in front of himself, as if Doc was a frightened animal. 

      “Woah, woah, woah, what’s wrong? What happened?” Ren stressed. He could smell the distress under the man’s natural scent and the burn of gunpowder. 

      “ConCorp… Zed… Fuckin… Cub…” the cyborg panted, he seemed to have sprinted from the ConCorp Laboratory. About three miles away from their house.

      Ren glanced at the metal claws digging into the wooden doorframe. Doc’s redstone wire veins glowed beneath the metallic plates of his right arm. Something was curling and writhing under the plates. Weaving in between wires and circuits, turning the shimmering ren into a sickly blue. It didn’t look right.

      “Breath, Doc, breath. What happened?”

      He paused and finally let air fill his lungs. 

 

_________

 

      Doc was just about to toss his phone over to the passenger seat when the device buzzed in his palm. It was a message from Cub, saying that he should come to the ConCorp Laboratory after he was done at The Perimeter. He left work early so he didn’t think he’d be home late. Cub wanted to show him something he found.

      How could he say no to that? So instead of heading home, he changed course to the ConCorp Lab. 

      As soon as the cyborg stepped out of his car, he could already feel that something wasn't right. Keys chimed when he locked his doors and sauntered up to the double glass doors. And when he pushed open the glass, the feeling only worsened. The hackles at the back of his neck rose and fluffed up. 

      The lab smelled of harsh chemicals and a horrendous recreation of apple pie. Most likely an air freshener to try and rid of the chemical scent. 

      His heavy boots thumped on the pristine white tiles when he crossed the room. A young looking receptionist looked up at him. 

      “Hello again, Doc,” the blond woman chirped.

      “Hello, False, did Zed and Cub already tell you that I’d be stopping by?” his flopped goat-like ears flicked around at the subtle noises happening deep within the building.

      “Yup! They should be in lab fourteen on the second floor,” False nodded, pointing to the door behind her. The cyborg thanked her and pushed through the metal door.

      Doc’s goat-ish nose flared as he entered the elevator. The strong smell of fake apples and cinnamon was now gone. But the sharp chemical scent lingered through the building. His ears flicked at the sounds above and tilted his snout to the ceiling. Someone must have dropped a glass beaker or flask. 

      But the sound continued, along with frantic yelling. 

      Doc was now worried and hurried out of the elevator, running down the bright hallway. 

      The sounds led him to the lab he was supposed to meet Zed and Cub in. It was now silent. His stomach dropped.

      Blood.

      There was blood coating the small glass window. Doc couldn't even see through the red film. He was hesitant to open the door. But pushed it open anyway. Someone may need help.

      “Holy shit,” Doc whispered slowly. He had to cover his nose at the piercing scent of iron that invaded his senses. 

      The floor was writhing with blue vines, covered in viscera. It made Doc sick to his stomach. He saw the blood soaked and matted wool of Zedaph’s legs. Cub’s shattered glasses next to his head, face down in his own blood.

      The cyborg’s work boots lightly stuck to the once white tiles, the blood now tacky. Glass crunching with each foot fall. The vines glowed as he moved, making him pause. They didn’t seem to do anything besides pulse with light, so Doc continued deeper into the lab.

      There was a closed off room to his right with a blown out glass look in. It seemed like the vines and moss-like growths broke out. The room was covered in the stuff. To his left were microscopes and glass containers filled with who knows what.

      Doc felt hot tears fall down his fuzzy cheek before he even noticed his vision blur. His ears lowered as he stared at the two men caked in blood. A heart wrenching sob was ripped from his chest before he could stop it. 

      “Fuck, wha- what happend?” Doc asked into the silence. His deep voice sounded pathetic to his own ears. “Please tell me you still do audio recordings, I need to know what happened to you two,” he begged as he crouched next to Cub’s cold body, careful not to let his knees hit the floor.

      He ripped blue vines and moss away with his metal claws, not wanting to touch the stuff with his skin. He dug around Cub’s lab coat pockets. Soon finding an audio recorder. He sighed as he stood, one of his knees popping and hands trembling. Only for his blood to run cold when he heard a devastating gasp from the doorway, making his hackles rise once more. Doc slowly turned to the girl behind him. Fearful dark eyes stared back. Before she ran off, her lab coat flowing behind her.

      “Katherine… shit, I need to leave,” Doc breathed and ran out of the laboratory. Bypassing the elevator and going straight for the stairs. Forgetting the blood on his boots and leaving red footprints in his wake.

 

_______

 

      Doc had sunk to the floor in his recollection of events. Ren was crouched in front of him. Martyn to the brunet’s left, sitting back on his heels. Martyn was hesitant to take the audio recorder from Doc’s metal hand, it twitched at the contact before falling limp with a metallic thunk.

      “You’re not going back, are you?” The dog-man spoke after a long pause. Doc almost looked angry.

      “Of course I'm going back, I need to know what happened,” he growled. His lip was curled, only showing a sliver of razor sharp teeth. Ren hated it when Doc fully bared his fangs, it made his canine instinct see it has a threat or challenge, even if Doc ment no harm. 

      “There has to be more audio records-”

      “That lady probably thought you killed them, Doc, she probably called the police, and gathered all the evidence themselves,” Ren stressed. He can’t have Doc arrested for something he didn’t do. Again. 

      Doc’s head got fuzzy and felt like static, tasting ozone on his tongue. He groaned, snapping his eye shut and covering his metal face plates with his warm left hand. The fog quickly faded. Now seeing a very concerned dog-man.

      “Please don’t go back, maybe you can go to the police station and ask if you can take a look at what they found,” Ren tried to reassure his stressed lover. “I mean you’re- were really close to Cub and Zed, I doubt they'd reject your request.”

      Doc growled, white teeth on full display. Maw full of sharp points and promised threats. Bright green locked onto wide, fearful sapphire. 

      Martyn can’t think of a time where he’s seen Ren flinch so hard. He blinked and the cyborg lunged for Ren. Pulling him to his feet by his upper arms. Doc’s snarling jaws mere inches from the brunet’s face. Ren was trembling, tail tucked between his thighs and ears pinned in fear. Tears free falling down his face, getting caught in his facial hair.

      “You don’t understand! You don’t know what I saw, what I was a witness to! I need to know!” Doc shouted, increasing his grip on Ren’s biceps.

      “Hey!” Martyn was quick to shove him off of Ren. But overestimated how much the taller would resist, and ended up slamming Doc’s back against the door frame. And ultimately, the back of his skull.

      The roar he let out was horrifying. Doc’s voice glitched with static like a broken speaker. The sound was more feral and far more animalistic than any sound a man could make. 

      “Don’t you touch hi- oh,” Martyn yelled. But Doc’s eye rolled back into his skull and his body went slack. The sudden weight shocked the blond enough to completely drop the man.

      Ren made no move to catch him. 

      The cyborg landed with a heavy thud on the hardwood floor. His nose began to pour blood, having hit the ground just as hard. A crumpled heap of green fur, metal, and clothes. But his fingers twitched. Then his lip and stubby tail. Until Doc started to fully seize against the floor. Eye wide but unseeing, strong claws creating grooves in the wood floor that would stay until replaced. 

      That’s when Ren snapped out of his state of shock. 

      “Get a pillow from the couch, Martyn,” the brunet instructed as he kneeled by the suffering man. The blond didn’t argue and left to get one.

      He quickly returned to the foyer, throw pillow in hand. The cyborg was now on his side. Ren gently lifted the man’s head by his horns and slid the fluffy cushion underneath. All they can do now is wait.

      “Are you hurt? Physically?” the blond softly asked, sitting down next to his trembling lover. Ren turned to him, sapphire eyes full of fear and confusion. His flushed cheeks stained with nonstop tear tracks. 

      He fell into Martyn’s open arms. Heartbreaking sobs were muffled in the blond’s dark t-shirt. Ren gripped the fabric for dear life, like Martyn would leave if he let go.

      Even the thought of leaving made him hold the crying man closer, gently petting his pinned ears and ruffled hair.

      “We’ll be okay, Ren, everything will be okay,” he placed a reassuring kiss to the top of Ren’s head, hearing him sniffle.

      “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Chapter 4: A Call for Help

Summary:

TW: fighting, blood

Things get worse for Doc

      Ren was curled up in Martyn's lap. His tears being absorbed by the blond’s dark tee, claws gripping the fabric. He felt safe in Martyn’s arms, safe from whatever is happening to Doc. Ren sniffled when he removed his face from his lover's chest, wiping his tears off flushed cheeks. 

      “W-We need to call Etho,” Ren whispered, sitting up to look into Martyn’s worried eyes. “He h-helpped Doc make his prosthetics, h-he might know how t-to fix this,” he expressed, pulling his phone out with trembling hands. It was gently taken from his palms. 

      “I’ll call him, you try to calm down, okay?” Martyn softly said, pulling Ren’s head back to his chest. Hoping his own heart beat would help his panicked lover. 

      Martyn pulled up Etho’s contact in the brunet’s phone, pressing the call button. It rang twice before the fox’s voice was heard. 

      “Hello?” his Canadian accent sounded thicker through the older device’s speaker.

      “Hey Etho, we need some help.”

      “Martyn? What is it you need help with?

“It’ll be easier to explain when you get to our house, it's about Doc’s prosthetics,” Martyn sighed.

      “Oh snap, I’ll be over in ten,” Etho quickly agreed. 

      “Thank you, I’ll see you soon then, and please hurry” the blond hung up.

      Martyn sighed and proceeded to pet and scratch at the base of Ren’s pointed ears. 

      It doesn’t take long for there to be three rapid knocks at the front door. It made Ren jump at the sudden loud sound cutting through the tense silence.

      “It’s unlocked,” Martyn called.

      The dark wooden door opened with a creak, revealing the worried silver and ruby eyes of Etho. His fluffy arctic fox tail twitched as he closed the door behind him. He spoke as he crouched next to the unconscious cyborg. 

      “Tell me what happened.”

      Martyn proceeded to re-tell Doc’s story, standing when Etho did and pulling Ren up with him. Ren still clinging to him. The fox nodded when the blond stopped speaking.

      “Seems like whatever those vines were infected his circuits, and going by why he’s on the floor, it’s probably gone to the wires in his head,” Etho theorized, hoping this damage was reversible.

      Ren felt fresh tears burn his eyes.

      “Please tell me you can help him,” Ren pleaded, desperation filling his eyes and bleeding from his words.

      The platinum blond looked at him with uncertainty. Making Doc’s prosthetics was easy, attaching them to flesh and bone was the difficult part. His arm could feel more than his head. It’s able to feel temperature changes and pressure differences. The metal plates attached to his skull could feel neither, but the redstone was far more complex than his mechanical limb. 

      Etho let out a small sigh, averting his gaze to the man on the floor. 

      “I don’t make promises I can't keep,” Etho straightened his shoulders, locking eyes with Ren. “But if I can’t fix the redstone then I’ll think of something else, I’m not going to leave him like this, that I can promise,” his miss-matched eyes shined in determination. This was Etho we’re talking about, redstone pioneer, inventor of the hopper clock. If anyone can help Doc, it’s Etho Slab.

      But the noises coming from the floor fell on deaf ears. They didn’t hear the groans of pain or the rustle of fabric.

      “Does Doc keep any redstone here?” Etho asked. The blond nodded, saying that it’s kept in the basement.

      Ren turned to look at the man on the floor. But a blur of green and black made him stumble in the opposite direction, pushing Martyn with him.

      It played in slow motion but happened in a second. One moment Doc was laying motionless on the wooden slats, the next, he’s lunging for Etho. Jaws open wide and aiming for his throat, all sharp points with the intention to kill.

      The fox was shoved to the wall hard enough for the hung up picture frames to raddle. One even falling to the ground, a small one that left glass strewn across the floor.

      The platinum blond had hardly enough time to recover from the air being ripped from his lungs. Doc was not a small man, nor did he lack in strength. His cybernetics only enhanced what he was capable of. Etho knew he couldn’t win, no matter how hard he tried.

      He shoved his arm into Doc’s snarling maw, keeping him away from his exposed neck. His snow white ears were pinned to his equally white hair. Eyes wide in fear. The fox growled under his breath and slammed his knee into the man’s stomach. He flinched, but didn’t move.

      Etho’s blood now soaked through his sleeves and stained the cyborg’s teeth. The fox cried out when Doc thrashed his head, like a dog with a new chew toy. 

      He shook his arm to dislodge the man’s teeth, then shoved his arm further into Doc’s maw. Stretching his jaw wide and making the sides of his mouth burn at the force. The scent of blood grew thicker now that the cyborg’s teeth no longer pierced his flesh. 

      Doc seemed to have enough of Etho fighting back. He tugged Etho away from the wall, removing any leverage he might have had. His claws dug into the fox’s ribs through thick layers of fabric.

      Etho yelped as he was lifted from the floor, white paws scrambling for purchase. They landed on Doc’s toned stomach, trying to force him off. But to no avail. 

      Doc snarled and twisted towards the short table by the door. He surged forward, raising Etho higher.

 

      “No!”

 

      He was slammed into the furniture, it splintered and shattered under his and Doc’s body weight. The keys left in the bowls dug into his exposed back, making more blood spill. Etho’s cry sounded breathless and full of agony. The fox groaned and weakly shoved against Doc’s stomach.

      The cyborg let Etho’s mangled arm fall to his heaving chest. Gore and frothy spit landing on the fox’s clothes.

      Etho’s pain filled whimper in the sudden silence made Martyn snap out of his fearful daze, and finally be able to act. He pushed Ren further away but didn’t stay by him. He may not know Etho too well, but he can’t stand around and watch him get murdered by his boyfriend’s lover that’s gone mad. 

      The heel of his boot collided with the metal plates of Doc’s head, pinning his head to the drywall. The cyborg’s rage no longer focused on the injured fox.

      Doc struggled, red tipped claws ripping into the blond’s jeans. He spat, growled and hissed, splattering bloody, bubbly saliva across the wall. He looked like a wild animal with a severe case of rabies.

      Martyn seized him by the horns before removing his foot. And yanked him from the wall.

      Then Ren was by his side.

      Helping Martyn pin the cyborg to the ground. Ren, with tear filled eyes, held Doc’s arms, flesh and cybernetic, behind his back while the blond kept his head immobile by the horns.

      Near violent sobs coursed through Ren’s chest. It hurt to be in this situation, to restrain his lover like this, to make sure he couldn't hurt anyone again. He continuously muttered apologies wherever Doc struggled from beneath him. 

      The cyborg hadn't said a word. Only grunts and growls left his throat. The blood that soaked the fur around his mouth had gone tacky but still shined with spit. His organic eye was wide, wild and crazed.

Etho moaned as he rolled off the broken furniture.

      “Call an ambulance…”