Spider walked away from the hideout, moving through a narrow alley while scanning his surroundings to ensure he wasn't followed. He slumped against a grimy wall, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He tore off his mask, desperate for air, but instantly regretted it. The toxic atmosphere burned his lungs, yet he left the mask off, enduring the pain.
Pulling up his shirt, he examined the bloody hole in his abdomen. One of the shots had landed after all. Blood seeped from the wound, but the bullet needed to come out first. Gritting his teeth, he dug his fingers into the injury, probing for the projectile. Agony flared through him, but he endured. Finally, he extracted the bullet, a sickly green pellet. A poison round. Lucky I got it out in time.
He forced himself upright, securing his mask again. With a tap on his forearm, a holographic screen flickered to life. He initiated a call. After a moment, a pudgy face framed by thick rimmed glasses appeared, curiosity gleaming behind the lenses.
"Hey Ez, how you doing? Since you're calling, I'm assuming the sale didn't go well, huh?" The man adjusted his glasses with a smirk.
Ezreal exhaled sharply. He'd told this idiot countless times not to use his real name. Spider was his alias, but Victor, one of City K's best backers, had a memory like a sieve. Ezreal nodded stiffly before holding up the metal disk.
"Can you find me a buyer?"
Victor stroked his chin, pretending to deliberate.
"I'll buy it off you. Market price's around 5,000 Union credits, so I'll send you 6,000. Be a good boy and bring it to me, won't you?" He chuckled.
A vein throbbed in Ezreal's forehead, but before he could retort, the transmission cut off. He slumped against the wall again, only for his wrist comm to ping. A notification flashed:
6,500 Union units received from Daddy.
Another vein pulsed near Ezreal's temple, but then, despite himself, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Victor was his only friend, and coincidentally, one of the best hackers in the city. Thanks, Victor, he mouthed silently.
Clutching his wounded abdomen, Ezreal pushed himself up. He still had errands before heading to Victor's place. With a grimace, he stepped out of the alley and vanished into the labyrinth of the slums.
Ezreal stood before a sterile white building, its neon sign blazing HOSPITAL in harsh, clinical light. He exhaled, steeling himself before entering. His usual black cloak and mask were gone, replaced by a compression long sleeve shirt layered under a plain white tee, paired with worn jeans.
Inside, the stench of antiseptic and stale medicine assaulted him, but he barely flinched. He approached the reception desk, where a pink haired woman smirked at him.
"Well, well. Ezreal. Here to see him again, I assume?"
"Hah. Yeah. Can I?" His laugh was stiff, forced.
She crossed her arms. "Last time, you promised me a date. Imagine my surprise when you stood me up."
"I got held up with work," he lied, scratching the back of his neck.
"Or maybe you think I'm ugly." She leaned forward, deliberately brushing her hair aside. "Am I ugly, Ezreal?"
His face burned. Without answering, he spun on his heel and marched down the hallway. The moment he was out of sight, his embarrassment evaporated, replaced by cold irritation. Why won't she take the hint? Ghosting her should've been enough.
He stopped outside a hospital room, took a steadying breath, and pushed inside. The door clicked shut behind him as he sank into the chair beside the bed. His gaze settled on the frail figure lying there, and for the first time in days, his smile was genuine.
The patient was a child, skeletal, tangled in wires and monitors. Ezreal reached out, ruffling the boy's black hair. Slowly, red eyes, mirrors of his own, fluttered open.
"And here I thought an angel had come for me," the boy croaked. "Turns out it's just the bloody Reaper."
"That how you talk to your savior? I'm paying for all this, you know," Ezreal shot back, a vein bulging in his forehead.
"Got a problem, bitch ass?"
"Say that again, and I'm pulling the plug."
"No, you won't." The boy crossed his arms defiantly.
The door creaked open. An elderly doctor, balding, white haired, peered in, his smile warm but weary.
"Hello, William. Glad to see you awake."
William's response was a raised middle finger. The doctor chuckled before turning to Ezreal. "A word, please?"
Outside, the corridor's fluorescent lights hummed. The doctor's smile faded.
"His vitals are stable, but internally it's spreading. Psychosis eats the body piece by piece. For William, it started in his legs. Now it's reached his stomach. Paralysis has already set in. Once it hits his heart..." He trailed off, gripping Ezreal's shoulder. "He needs Star Powder. Nothing else can reverse this."
"Then use it. If it's about money..."
"Ezreal, there is none in this city. You'd need an A tier metropolis. And even then? A million credits per gram."
Ezreal's fists clenched. City K was C tier. A tier might as well be another planet.
How the hell am I supposed to save him?