Wicked God - S01 E15

Story 3 days ago

Wicked God - S01 E15

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 15

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[Enigma House]

The night had turned rainy again. The rain started five minutes ago, and while others were in their rooms, cozying up to their beds or warming up with mild exercises, Bishop and Castle stayed outside.

Blade and Kent had followed after El Crow, and Lovato already returned into her room.

The silence in the balcony grew heavier, settling in the space between them till they could feel it on their calves.

“I don’t regret shouting at you,” Bishop finally ate the silence up.

“I didn’t expect you to regret it,” Castle faced him. “You’re Bishop anyways. You mightn’t talk frequently, but you’re easy to read. It’s very obvious how you feel about Vato.”

“Vato likes you!” Bishop faced him suddenly, brows pressed. “She doesn’t act like a baby around anyone but you! It’s obvious she—”

“I’m at least ten years older than Vato. What are you talking about?” Castle’s face folded into deep disgust. “I’m not a damn pedophile.”

“The least you could be is gentle with her!” Bishop snarled. “If it was me who shouted at her, she’d either shout back or hit me, but it was you, and you saw how she cried…”

“Bishop,” Castle sighed. “I’m not in the mood for this stuff right now, ok? When El is found, this talk can continue.” Castle cut in.

He was already walking down the stairs. “I’ll join Blade and Kent in the search for El. We need to bring him back without making Boss Arturo worry.” He added before leaving.

Bishop continued standing there as if unsure of what to do, but minutes later, he returned into the house.

He went to Lovato’s Suite, assured that she’s inside. He raised his hand to the doorbell to ring, but he changed his mind and dropped it.

He rested his head on the door.

“I’ll personally go to the house kitchen and make you hot milk. I know you like it to burn your tongue, and I know you like to take it with spicy chicken wings.” He whispered.

He didn’t talk more, and it looked like she wasn’t going to answer, but shortly, she opened her door with dull eyes and down mood.

“I’ll go to the kitchen with you,” she sniffled and led the way.

Bishop helped her close her door before rushing to catch up with her.

“How spicy do you want the chicken wings to be?” He smiled.

“Any level. I don’t care,” she muttered, sniffling again as they curved the hall corner.

“So I read about your Princess Charlotte,” Bishop said.

She looked at him.

“You did?”

He nodded.

“But I was right.” He tipped his head. “After the real Princess died, the King and Queen lost their abilities to reproduce because of grief, so they adopted Princess Charlotte in place of the real Princess. See? Princess Charlotte might be kind and benevolent, but she’s still not the real deal.” He shrugged.

“But she’s still addressed as Princess Charlotte,” Lovato rolled eyes. “You’re just jealous of her.” She quickened her steps towards the kitchen.

“She’s still not the real Princess!” Bishop went after her.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Lovato blocked her ears with her palms, running into the kitchen.

Bishop’s spark returned in folds as he rushed into the kitchen with her. Seeing her smiley and lively again made his mind settle.

He found her standing by the wide kitchen island with her lips puckered.

“Didn’t you promise hot milk and peppered chicken wings?”

“I’m not running away,” Bishop grinned, opening the freezer for chicken.

Lovato suddenly jumped on his back, tangling herself with him.

“I’ll stay on your back till you’re done,” she informed.

Happily, Bishop nodded.

“Whatever,” he smiled as he defrosted the chicken with her mounted heavily on his back.

—

[Enigma House]

Quincy and Renee could be seen running towards the house from the driveway, holding hands.

They had gone for workouts without umbrella, and it started raining when they were there, so they had to return on the rain while running.

They entered the balcony together, looked at each other and bursted into laughter.

“I told you to not forget the umbrella when we were leaving,” Quincy accused.

“Oh. Now it’s my fault?” Renee blinked. “You could have taken the umbrella too cos you know I don’t have a mind of my own!”

“Take responsibility, Renee.” Quincy rolled eyes. “It won’t kill you.”

Renee made faces, but they never let go of each other’s hands.

“So…ice cream?” Renee blinked.

“It’s raining,” Quincy scolded.

“I eat ice cream whenever I want,” Renee scoffed.

“So you can get sick and have me nurse you throughout the night?” Quincy scoffed too.

“Fineee!” She tried to take her hand from him, but he held it still.

She gave up and released a sigh, then they both faced the pouring rain.

“You think Long Legs would be fine? Considering the fact that Roselle went with her. I don’t trust that bitch.” Quincy muttered.

“Here you are, worrying about Skylar again,” Renee hissed.

“Long Legs is my friend, ok?” Quincy shrugged. “It won’t kill me to worry about her. Even if she doesn’t care about me for now, I believe the time is coming. We both need Skylar.”

Renee looked away.

She might not entirely agree with her brother, but the last part was nothing but plain truth.

Who’d be their shield here?

Roselle? Absolutely no.

Rosita? Another fail.

Roy? That’s just unimaginable.

Even other Middle Tiers like them don’t want to have anything to do with Quincy and Renee.

They’re like outcasts of the team. Satan and Midnight gives no fûck about them either.

“She’s Skylar,” Renee nodded. “Of course she’ll always be fine.”

Quincy smiled and rubbed her knuckles in his hand, but then loud pounds of claps rented the balcony suddenly, causing them to turn.

Roy leaned on the entrance door with his left shoulder, his deviant eyes trained on then.

Immediately the siblings saw him, they both got a rush of memories of what happened at M Sector. How Renee was on the floor and how Quincy’s face was between her legs.

Renee clenched her thighs together.

Quincy clenched his mouth, biting his tongue.

“You both look closer than before, don’t you think?” Roy came closer, flipping his lighter open and close carelessly.

“On the brighter side, what we made you do was for the greater good.” He raised his lighter to Renee’s face, aiming to burn her eyebrows, but Quincy pushed Renee behind himself and took her place, standing in front of Roy.

The rotten smile on Roy’s face disappeared, replaced by something nastier and meaner.

“Did you just…change my plans?”

“What exactly do you want from us, Roy?” Quincy questioned.

Roy’s lighter slammed against Quincy’s left eye, and with unrestrained force, Quincy staggered, palming that eye as it turned.

“Quincy!” Renee gasped, mind scattering.

“I’m…fine,” Quincy assured, though he still couldn’t take his palm away from his eyes, and his voice sounded highly painful.

“Who said you could question me?” Roy demanded, deadpanning.

“What do you think you’re doing!!!” Renee yelled at him, mad. “Because you’re Top Tier and we’re forbidden from disrespecting you, you think you have the right to do anything you wish to us? Who do you think you are, bastard!”

Roy went silent for a beat, but what followed was lethality.

He snapped his fingers. Two Low Tiers brought him kegs which he took and opened easily.

Perceiving the smell, Quincy knew what it was, so he pulled Renee out of the way quickly.

When Roy poured the content of the keg forward, it landed on Roy’s trousers in a zigzag.

Gasoline.

Roy flicked his lighter on and threw it at Roy, expecting him to catch fire with the gasoline, but nothing happened.

No fire. No smokes. Nothing.

Renee and Quincy were stunned too..They gathered themselves in the corner of the cold balcony like chickens.

Roy faced the Low Tiers who brought the keg of gasoline.

“I asked for gasoline!” He snarled hostilely.

“We bought and kept the gasoline in the kegs like you ordered!” They quickly went on their knees, shivering with the possibility of what Roy would do to them. “We really bought gasoline and kept them in these kegs!”

Roy picked the second gasoline keg and emptied it till the keg turned completely empty.

It was then he realized…

It was water, not gasoline.

He brought the keg to his nose to sniff, and it indeed smelled like gasoline.

Meaning; they really bought gasoline in these kegs, but someone had changed it to water.

“Who did this?” Roy muttered, ruminating hard.

In the inside hallway of the house, the blind cleaning woman stood by the wall like a gecko, listening to everything.

But soon, she walked away unnoticed.

“Who the fuvk switched the gasoline to water!” Roy looked at the siblings. “Was it you both? Huh?” He pointed the keg at them. “Did you both suspect that the gasoline was for your sake, then went ahead to switch it?”

“Now you’re accusing us?” Quincy scoffed. “I guess one day if you can’t take a leak, it’ll be out fault too. We did nothing wrong!”

Roy flung the keg and picked a hand broom lying by the door.

He was walking to them with it when a voice leaked in… “One more step forward, and that’ll be the last step you ever take in this life.”

Roy stopped.

He turned around swiftly, coming face-to-face with Rosita.

Rosita stood by the threshold of the house, arms folded, demeanor heated like a demoness’s.

“Naturally, entertainment comes to me, but these days, it’s been terribly scarce.” She released a breath. “I’m bored, Roy. Why don’t you entertain me?” She stepped close.

“And why would I be your object of entertainment?” Roy threw the hand broom away, glaring daggers.

“Because I said so.” Rosita said without blinking. “You’re going to go down on all fours right now, and start barking like a dog.”

“What!” Roy’s ears lifted.

Quincy and Renee exchanged glances of astonishment.

—

[Jethro Ortega’s House]

No unnecessary sounds.

No unnecessary humans roaming around or unnecessary lights on.

It’s as though even nature respected this house and knew when to act. The house stood on top of a hill surrounded by private lands which had been seized by Jethro as his own.

Jethro wasn’t the normal type of billionaire.

He was the type who sent other billionaires on errands.

The type who had crawled through debris and rolled through filth just to know what it felt like before he reached his present throne.

He sat in his Silent Room, relaxed on a high couch with his eyes closed.

A guard held a tray of roasted meat beside him, but Jethro hadn’t touched it. It looked like he was waiting for the perfect time to eat.

In front of him, there was a glass partition, and at the other side of the glass, there were two sleeping dogs.

Giant, black dogs.

“The dogs will wake up in one minute, sir.” The guard beside him informed carefully.

Jethro’s void eyes peered open, and his elbows went rested on his knees. His concentration landed on the glass.

In his eyes, sat a rare, thrilling devil which was starving for evil and calamity, and it looked ready to feed.

The dogs at the other side of the glass woke up, and they stood across each other, baring their teeth and stretching their furs.

Their tails raised, and their noses glared.

Their growls grew.

They looked drugged.

Jethro’s eyes went still, his fingers interlocked, and his thumb tapped the knuckle of his pointer finger.

The dogs went for each other aggressively, and Jethro’s lips lifted slightly at the corner as he watched the bloody fight.

The dogs didn’t fight to survive.

They fought to kill.

The drugs in their heads was their push. Their teeth and claws sank into each other, and their blood sprayed the glass partition generously as they tore each other apart.

One didn’t let go for the other.

The other didn’t stop tearing.

Furs carpeted the floors. Blood reddened the marble. Their ears and limbs and intestines formed a pool, so gruesome.

They tore each other to pieces till their growls died along with them.

Throughout the fight, the thrill in Jethro’s eyes kept increasing, and that curl in the corner of his lips kept sharpening till his smile formed.

So eerily destructive.

He relaxed back on the chair.

“That was one hell of a show,” he uttered, looking satisfied.

The guard lowered the tray, and he tore the carefully roasted meat with the fork.

He had a taste of it.

“Arturo’s investigator is still trying to know you you are, sir.” The guard reported.

“Investigator?” Jethro paused, but then he moved calculatedly. “Ah, you mean the one they call Senior Castle?”

The guard nodded.

“Let him continue his search till I decide if I’ll reveal myself or not,” Jethro chewed his meat slowly. “The real person I’m interested in is El Crow himself… Marisa’s son. I like that he’s as crazy as his mother. I think he’s crazier… wasn’t he once diagnosed with psychopathia?”

A knock kissed the door, and another guard entered, staying behind. “Sir, Satan from Dread House is here to see you.”

“She stepped into the devil’s home by herself?” Jethro smirked down. “I’m curious too…” He looked up. “About what’ll happen when Satan meets the devil.”

“She’s outside, in front of the gate with her underboss Midnight,” The guard further said.

“Let’s see how long she can wait.” Jethro’s voice lowered as he ate another tear from the meat. “Did my daughter leave for the birthday banquet yet?”

“Since an hour ago, sir.” The guard responded.

—