The price of letting Ozzie keep Kiaran as a pet didn’t come cheap. As soon as they were escorted to one of Luka’s guesthouse, Ozzie was first asked to blow him and was made to drink in every last drop of the virus’ cum, which, to Ozzie’s surprise, was rather warm and bittersweet to the taste. Then the next day, he was forced to have a dildo shoved up his ass and the familiar double vibrators tied and sandwiched around his cock. Both toys were turned on and vibrated in different levels in intervals, depending on Thrax’s control over the remote, and poor Ozzie was made to do his usual chores with those things on him, forbidden to take them off or try to pleasure himself without his express permission. It wasn’t easy doing the washing, making the virus’ meals, helping the virus bathe and the like with the double assault of the toys on both sides, and he barely made it by the end of the day before he was reduced to a horny, aroused mess as he fell to the floor in a fetal position, begging and gasping in his tears for mercy, pleasing his Master to let him have his release. Thrax, of course, smiled in his devilish ways and made him grovel for a while before taking off the toys and replaced them with the cell’s much needed cock and hand, thrusting and pumping him until Ozzie was literally screaming his completion until his voice was hoarse.
“I’ve decided on my next target,” Thrax announced after staying in cat city for a day and a half. Ozzie, who was grooming Kiaran, looked up, curious.
“So soon, Master?”
“You’re not expecting to stay in cat city forever, are you?” Thrax asked as he ran his fingers through his dreads.
“Well, not really…” Ozzie replied timidly. “I mean, it’s pretty alright settling down in cat city or dog city without having to worry about skulking around afraid that people might stake us or something for being a dangerous virus or something, though I don’t exactly fancy rat city…”
“Have you forgotten who I am, Jones? I’m Red Death who made it into the medical books. I go around spreading death, destruction and fear. I’m not about to stay put and act dormant like some silly volcano sleeping away when it’s supposed to be erupting. I am terror personified, and I’m going to make mankind remember me till kingdom come.”
“Yes, Master. I understand,” Ozzie sighed quietly enough not for the virus to hear. To ask Thrax to stay permanently in a city without causing a ruckus was like asking an amputee city to grow a brand new limb on the affected area; it’ll be too good to be true.
“I’ve decided to cause a bit of a panic on a bigger scale this time,” Thrax continued his plan. “I want the medical books to rank me even higher on the danger level, probably equivalent or higher than the deadly viruses that have existed so far. I plan to send an entire place in lockdown and its people in total fear and paranoia.”
“How’re you gonna do that?”
“Simple. By taking down the head honcho of a village, or maybe even a small town, if we’re lucky.”
“But…But if you cause a whole town to panic and go into quarantine mode, how’re we gonna get out?”
“Big Daddy Thrax will find a way. Don’t you worry your tail-cell off, baby. We’ll be alright.”
Ozzie looked down, still worried. He had seen and heard about cases outside of Frank where viruses tried to make it big in the viral scale, only to end up defeated due to quarantines and new vaccines or antidotes created while they were trapped in an environment where victims were limited and elimination was inevitable. What if they couldn’t make it out in time before the quarantine came in? What if they ended up in a really tough city and didn’t succeed in killing it? What then? Thrax noticed the look on the cell’s face and took his chin.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Master,” Ozzie replied half-heartedly.
“Not convincing enough,” Thrax gave an unsatisfied tone and repeated word by word, “Do – you – trust – me?”
Ozzie stared into Thrax’s eyes and saw the same pleading emotion for a split second, just like the day Thrax asked him the same question when he was about to abort Finn’s spawn. Ozzie sighed.
“You are my Master. I trust you.”
“Good boy.”
With that, he gave the cell a deep, passionate kiss on the lips before getting up to leave. Ozzie looked up at Thrax questioningly, his face still a little flushed from the kiss.
“Wh…Where…Where are you going, Master?”
“To see Luka. I need to discuss some things with her.”
“Shouldn’t I come along?”
“No. You stay put, baby. You just look after that mutt of yours. This is something I wanna do alone.”
Giving a last peck on the cell’s forehead, Thrax left, leaving Ozzie wondering what was that all about.
--:--
“Huh…?? Hm…Wh…What…?” Ozzie mumbled groggily as he tried to get his mind in focus.
“Get up, Jones,” Thrax ordered as he put on his trench-coat. “We’re leaving.”
“To where?” Ozzie quickly got off bed and got dressed in his clothes while picking Kiaran up at the same time.
“Out next city. We’ve found the best candidate.”
After making sure he brought along the other clothes Thrax gave him (the gothic-lolita dress included), Ozzie quickly followed behind the virus. There was a limo already waiting outside the guesthouse that took them straight to the bladder express. Bidding goodbye to Luka who drove and escorted them personally, they took the express as quickly as they could and were peed out onto the grass of a park before the cat was shooed away by the park janitor, in which the duo latched onto his clothes for a while before entering the body.
The park janitor was quite old with its inhabitants inside the body already prepared for the day the body would fail on them, and being not exactly very keen on body hygiene despite being a cleaner of parks was not really helping the city’s wellbeing at all, so for Thrax, he didn’t even need to break a sweat infiltrating the brain centre and killing the body. The only setback was that the park janitor lived alone, so it took about almost a week before the stench attracted the public to notice that they had a dead body in the neighbourhood.
But that wasn’t the best candidate Thrax had meant.
According to the address on the envelopes of the bills from the park janitor’s mail, they were directly in a small village somewhere within the City of Newcastle, Western County of Wyoming, and they were waiting for the head of the village to arrive and take care of the body they killed. Unbeknownst to Ozzie, Thrax had Luka manually control the cat so that they could drop them off at the nearest small town after telling her of his plans. Luka wasn’t exactly willing to do so at first because she had ambitions of big scale infections herself, but after Thrax presented her with a priceless cellular diamond necklace he swiped from the brain centre jewelry museum while he was in Gregory Metropolis, she balked to Thrax’s request, claiming she’ll do this “just this once”.
Throughout their journey from the bar in Buffalo where Thrax killed Gregory all the way to Wyoming, Thrax had not once allowed Ozzie to follow him anywhere, not even to the mayor’s office as he monitored Luka’s progress, making the cell stay where he was or just hang out around the area with Kiaran or do his chores. Ozzie had not dared to ask or question his whereabouts for fear of a scolding or a punishment, but in truth, Thrax did not want him around because he didn’t want him to know he gave an expensive present to a woman that was technically and originally meant for his pet. Ozzie may not dare to voice out his jealousy (if he had any) about it if he had found out, but somehow, surprisingly even to Thrax, the guilty bug would send a painful pang to his heart whenever Ozzie looked at him with his quiet questioning eyes about where he had been or what he had done for the day, and his mind immediately thought of Luka who had demanded a price for her services, and thought that Ozzie was better off left in the dark about the deal.
Anyway, as soon as the park janitor’s death was made known, the village head, known to everyone as Jackson, showed up and made the immediate arrangements required. Being a small village, the awareness of the existence of the Red Death was not yet made to the townsfolk, but since police investigations revealed no foul play, they were rest assured that the park janitor’s death was of natural causes, which gave many obvious conclusions for them like heart attack, simple cardiac arrest, stroke or old age; any ailment that could befall on a more-than-half-a-century-old man. Still, they would require a full autopsy report on the cause of death just to give the next of kin, who lived somewhere off the States, a peace of mind, and the best way to get it was to send it to the morgue at the nearest big city. The report was predicted to be complete in about 3 days top or more, giving Thrax his first deadline after so many weeks of taking his sweet time in the last few cities since Frank.
Thanks to the townsfolk’s ignorance, Jackson did not really take much precaution in manhandling the park janitor’s body. Thrax and Ozzie quickly leapt onto Jackson’s hand when he helped the medics to carry the body onto the stretcher and into the body bag. Jackson unconsciously scratched an itch on his nose before he washed his hands after moving the body and that gave the duo a chance to slip into the body undetected, avoiding the immunity cells on patrol there and sneaking into the city using a car that belonged to one of the workers in the nasal dam who, lucky for them, didn’t have the decency to take out the keys from the ignition.
Jackson County was in an equal comparison with Gregory Metropolis, with its usual hustle-bustle of an averagely healthy city. Thrax would have to, again, plan carefully how to infiltrate the brain centre without attracting too much attention, and get it done within 3 days.
As usual, Ozzie became a recruiting accessory for Thrax. After snooping around in the city, the duo found out that Jackson had a mass amount of freckles about his skin, and when there are freckles, there are melanin cells who are considered a high-class aristocrat society because they are the ones who decide the fair and darkness of the city’s skin and considered a sort of pioneers for preventing albinism. And when there are high-class aristocrats, there was bound to be certain functions held by the eccentrics, one of them being a sort of liaison function to promote friendship between cells, germs and bacteria-s who have made peace with the city and lived out their lives as honest citizens of Jackson, and that was exactly the kind of function held by the Pheomelanin family who specializes in the lip area in which Ozzie needed to infiltrate and look for recruits.
The theme of the function was costume party, so Ozzie’s little gothic-lolita outfit came to good use. Disguised again as Ozma Lymphocyte, he went to the party, using his charms at the ushers to let him in without an invitation card (claiming that he lost it after a late night romping). Inside, it looked almost like those magnificently extravagant ballrooms he used to see in the movies whenever Frank had one of those once-in-a-blue-moon medieval fantasy dreams from his subconscious mind after watching movies of such genres. The people there were dressed smartly in the nines in costumes of their choice, from superheroes to medieval characters to fantasy outfits and the like, and no one seemed to bat too much of an eyelid seeing Ozzie in his gothic-lolita dress, which was a bit of a comfort to him because he was getting a little sick of being the centre of attraction all the time. As he looked around searching for any potential recruits, he failed to notice someone incoming in front of him and accidentally bumped into him.
“Oh, excuse me, miss,” the person Ozzie bumped into apologized first.
“No, no, it’s my fault,” Ozzie replied using a woman’s pitch as best as he could, momentarily forgetting the Golden Rule from his Master of keeping his mouth shut. “I should’ve…”
Ozzie’s words stopped short when he looked up to see the person he had bumped. The red and yellow complexion, the big red cross on a bulky chest plate, the huge heavy hand cannon, the gel-cap head, the smart English accent…there was no doubt about. He’d recognize the features anywhere.
But…But how…? Ozzie thought in bewilderment. Why? What the heck is he doing here?! How…?!
“Did I hurt you in anyway, miss?” the person asked in concern. Ozzie felt almost relieved that he didn’t recognize him. “I’ve been known to cause a few lesions on people because of my built…”
Ozzie backed away before the person could put his hand on his shoulder, his eyes in total disbelief and shock. How did he survive…?! Silent frantic questions filled his mind as he continued to avoid the person’s advances. Frank is dead! He was supposed to be waiting for me there the last I saw him! He’s should’ve died along with the Chief, with Leah…with Frank! How did he get into this body…?
“Are you sure you’re alright, miss?” the person continued to probe, genuinely worried of the way Ozzie was looking at him.
No, Ozzie thought. I can’t let him know who I am! I can’t let him see me like this right now, definitely not with Thrax even! I gotta split!
“Is there something the matter?” a melanin cell approached them, possibly someone from the Pheomelanin family.
“Nothing, Mr. Pheo. It’s just that I accidentally…huh? Where did she go?” the person’s voice trailed off when he saw Ozzie no longer standing in front of him.
“What’s this I hear?” the cell called Mr. Pheo smiled mischievously. “Did you just say ‘she’? Could this be true: out dear little sourpuss cold pill bodyguard here is actually seeing a girl? This calls for a celebration!”
While the so-called cold pill spouted a string of denials, Ozzie was away from eyeshot, blending into the crowd as he escaped from the function. Quickly, he met up with Thrax who was waiting at a nearby high-class bar. The virus was genuinely surprised to see his pet empty-handed, and needless to say he wasn’t exactly the happiest person in the world. He got up and took the cell by the hand harshly before dragging him into one of the cubicles in the men’s room, locking the door behind him.
“Where is the cavalry, Jones?” Thrax demanded, taking hold of Ozzie’s shoulders and shook him a little.
Ozzie couldn’t answer, still unable to get over the shock of seeing someone whom he thought was supposed to be six feet under, or in this case, in flames and ashes.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Thrax noticed the look on Ozzie’s face and softened his tone a little. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I…I did…I…I…”
It took all of Ozzie’s willpower to say what he wanted to say without feeling stupid and scared shitless.
“I saw Drix.”
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