Giving Back

Frizz paused for a moment, slowly registering what his hostage has indulged him. For a moment, he realized that he was actually who caused all this trouble. All because he wanted to test his strength. Nevertheless, he shrugged off the epiphany. (They're criminals, they deserve what's coming to them!)

Frizz pointed the gun at Joseph head again. "Why did your people take pictures of my house and stalked me?"

Joseph was surprised. He hadn't been told about that. He averted his gaze and thought back to his past meetings with Baron. (Baron was rather upfront about his plans, I don't think they yet know where this superpowered piece of shit lives.)

"Tell me, why!?"

Joseph smiled, the scar on his face more pronounced. "I guess they wanted to see how many graves they wanted to dig?" he mockingly replied, unafraid of the trained pistol. Frizz's face darkened as his gaze intensified when he heard Joseph's reply, in less than two seconds his chest was struck by a fist. Joseph never felt a punch on this magnitude before, he instantly gasped for air as he winced.

Frizz then kneed Joseph's face, causing him to recoil from the force and hit his head on the wall. For a moment, his vision blurred as his nose bled from the impact. Frizz then held Joseph's head and reached for his front tooth, his incisor.

"Make sure your next words are worth it." Frizz threatened as his fingers tightly gripped Joseph's incisor.

"Wait!" Joseph said in a desperate tone, his breathing was quick.

"Used to dealing pain but not used to receiving it, huh?" Frizz mocked. "Where's all that bravado from earlier? I thought the pistol barely fazed you."

Joseph's entire body shook with fear; what his captor said was true. He was used to torturing others, not being tortured. He was familiar with being in the presence of guns, even when aimed at him; but the situation had changed. His men were nowhere close, still searching for the hostage who had never even left the warehouse. Those who were left lay unconscious on the floor. Joseph had hoped that by now one of them would wake up and shoot Frizz..

But no one had. Joseph was utterly alone.

"Alright, fine, just please…stop," Joseph pleaded, his voice shaky. However, Frizz's cold gaze remained fixed on him. "Explain everything, from the very beginning."

Joseph then explained his orders to harass Mina and to lure Frizz out. From there they would interrogate him if he was part of some gang and then ultimately execute him. Based on what Joseph had confessed, Baron doesn't know where Frizz resides. Baron was hesitant to stalk Frizz especially since he was aware of what he could do. So they tried luring him out instead with Mina, who they assumed was a girlfriend of Frizz or a romantic interest.

Frizz listened to Joseph's confession and scrutinized his expressions, wondering if what he had said was true or not. Eventually as Joseph's confession ended, a sour expression formed on Frizz's face.

('I guess they wanted to see how many graves they wanted to dig?') Frizz recalled the exact words that Joseph had said earlier.

Frizz smiled and let go of Joseph's tooth and then in an instant, whacked it with the pistol causing Joseph to recoil from the force and yell in agony. His incisor was chipped and a huge part of it fell off. He was about to chip the other incisor again until he could see Joseph's pants darkened.

Joseph had relieved himself from the pain, a pitiful and disgusted look formed on Frizz's face as he took several steps back.

"Stop." Joseph pleaded in a muffled voice as his lips bleed from a tear. 

Frizz was surprised, he didn't expect to be this violent. (I should really hold on to my emotions next time.)

*Murmurs.* Frizz could hear the distant murmurs of Joseph's men, who were now returning from their futile search. He hurried out of the open window and crouched low, heading straight to the road, running as fast as his wounded body would allow. All he was wearing was his jeans, and he clutched the stolen Glock pistol.

Twenty minutes later...

Frizz cleaned himself with a hose attached to a faucet and tossed away the improvised sock tourniquet, revealing a wound that had just stopped bleeding. "Thank god for my perk." He muttered to himself as he slowly limped towards the main road, thankfully there weren't many people.

Frizz turned around, confusion forming on his face. "They aren't going after me?" He asked himself, noting the lack of action.

(With their motorcycles they should've been here.)

Frizz shrugged it off and hailed a commuting motorcycle who took a second glance at him but nevertheless let him ride since he showed cash.

Thirteen minutes later...

"Remember to rate me five stars, leave a good review too." The motorcycle driver waved as he drove away.

After everything, Frizz just wanted to sleep, just as he was about to sneak through the back door. His brother, Weng, spotted him and quickly approached him. 

"What the fuck happened to you?" Weng asked in concern as he held his younger brother and looked at his wounds and bruises.

"I'll tell you everything but don't let dad know." Frizz stated in a tired low voice.

"What? What do you mean-"

"Please, I'll tell you everything." Frizz pleaded as he looked straight to his older brother's eyes.

Weng exhaled as he rubbed his face yet reluctantly accepted the request and helped his younger brother walk upstairs, to his room.

"Here, lie down." Weng carefully helped his younger brother, on the bed. He then left his room to pick up the first aid kit when suddenly his father came out of the restroom.

"Is Frizz back?" Their father said in worry with a hint of anger in his tone.

"Yes, he's back."

His father clicked his tongue as he headed upstairs but was stopped by Weng, tugging the sleeve of his shirt. "Dad, he's drunk, leave him be."

"Besides, I told you he'd be back." Weng glanced at Frizz's room. "Frizz, you want some warm tea, right?"

Weng held his breath, hoping that Frizz would catch on. There was a slight pause.

"Yes, some tea and towels." Frizz replied in a loud voice.

Frizz's reply assured his father that he was okay, prompting his father to step down and head outside to get some fresh air and exercise. "I shouldn't have drank when they were younger, now look at them." His father ranted as he closed the door, causing Weng to exhale in relief.

Eight minutes later...

"What the fuck, Frizz?" Weng exclaimed as he rubbed some lotion on Frizz's bruises. "Why are you messing with them?"

Frizz told his older brother, Weng, about his encounter with Baron, but omitted many crucial details. He left out the system, his torture, the money and pistols he had stolen, and the fact that he had injured and incapacitated several criminals.

"So you accidentally crossed paths with them and they beat you up for it?" Weng could feel that his younger brother was holding back on his story. "Frizz, the wound on your back is from a slash and this wound on your stomach is from a stab."

"However, putting all those grim facts aside. How are you stabilizing this fast?" Weng patched up Frizz and noticed some discrepancies on his story. (If he was 'beat' up yesterday and early this morning, then it makes no sense for these wounds to have somewhat healed this fast.)

Weng stared at his injured younger brother. "What are you not telling me?"

Frizz just kept quiet and looked away, uncomfortable with the interrogation. "I'll let you rest for now but you better tell me everything, and I mean everything once you are fully healed." Weng declared as he stood up, closing the first aid kit.

"I can help you report this to the authorities." Weng fiercely added as he exited Frizz's room, slamming the door on his way out.

Frizz stared at the ceiling, and grabbed a piece of bacon from a plate that his older brother had left for him and chewed on it as he grabbed another one.

"Maybe soon, I'll tell you." Frizz muttered to himself as he swallowed. "For now, I have to rest." Just as he was about to drift to sleep a sudden notification appeared.

[System]

Successfully escaped.

Rewards: [Survivor] perk.

Displaying Descriptions: The perk-user's mind slowly recovers stability over time, gradually easing anxiety and emotional strains. Traumatic experiences and mental strain have lesser impacts.

"That's underwhelming, but considering what I went through, maybe this is for the best," Frizz muttered, turning onto his side. He pulled out the Glock pistol from his pocket.

"Thankfully, Weng didn't notice it." Frizz stood up and hid the pistol beneath the mattress, along with the M1911.

Frizz then stared at the ceiling again, tears rolled down his eyes as he remembered what he had gone through and the looming danger around him. "Crap..."

"System, please, give me something. It's hard to take down this entire drug business alone," Frizz begged, his voice cracking, asking for guidance as he knelt on the floor, head lowered. 

"I don't know what to do…" Frizz pleaded, clutching at the mattress, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks.