How the frog took him...

°Chapter 12

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General O'Brien sat wide-legged in the room, arms resting on his hips. "And you!" he pointed threateningly at Dean, "surely you shouldn't associate with such a minority!"

"It's just a people",

"It's just a sexuality",

the two defended each other. Unconsciously Dean reached for Mirco's hand and together as a barrier they readied themselves.

Mirco slowly took out several throwing knives from behind his back while Dean pulled a nail from his trouser pocket. "You are repulsive and need to be reprimanded," the monster began to grin during this sentence. Of course they had expected him to fight back, but this reaction time was new. Nimbly, the general pulled out a revolver and shot like a madman all over the hall. Mirco dodged several times with an elegant roll, while Dean grabbed the table and remodelled it as a shield. When the bullets ridiculously finally ran out, they counter-attacked. Dean sprinted forward, took out the nail and stabbed deftly. The general often dodged or blocked the attack with a stance, but every now and then the nail pierced the body. Unexpectedly, the old geezer suddenly grabbed Dean's arm, turned his back and threw him over his shoulder in a high arc. The green-haired man landed on his back with a suppressed cry of pain and his opponent grabbed a floor lamp. So he was about to strike, but there was Mirco. He deftly pinned his left arm as well as his right leg to the wall with the throwing knives. He could not move a millimetre. Calmly, he ran to Dean and checked on his well-being. As he leaned over Dean's face, he was startled. The big guy was just lying there, not moving, not twitching, not breathing.

Horror welled up in him, followed by rage.

Just at that moment, the lower one gave a cheeky grin and shortly afterwards opened his left eye: "You should have seen your face! I'm not going to die that easily".

Mirco didn't think it was a laughing matter at all, but at that moment he was just glad he was alright.

"Now for you," Mirco turned around and took a small dagger from his leg holster which he pressed against the general's neck.

"Death would be too merciful for such a pig as you are. You should suffer and suffer like I did, only much longer," he whispered threateningly. The frog took on his true form: Dangerous, Conscientious and Precise. The general could not get out of here in one piece. The frog had earned his reputation, even if he partly took on a childlike shape. No one was able to break him. He was no longer a machine. He had found his place. He was free. No one would be able to take that away from him.

Dean had stood up during the monologue and stood behind his friend with his cheeky giggling. But in such a situation, that laugh belonged to a menacing psychopath, though it was the same.

The general was no longer amused. They could kill him. The wounds left by that dastardly nail were burning and at least one rib was broken.

All this with just a fucking nail. Dean was also well known on the scene and had spent years building his reputation: Unpredictable, random and a bit of a maniac.

Together they were able to build up a huge power. 

It was frightening.

Mirco took out a new throwing knife and placed it on O'Brien's left thigh. The general, still unable to move, began to scream and blood spread throughout the room. Dean also went for the other leg and the screams stopped. In pain, the monster had fainted, but not for long. Opening his eyes, he was already aware that he had no legs and the bounty hunters were gone. Hastily he pulled his upper body towards the phone, if he didn't get help quickly now he would bleed to death. The pool of blood was huge and without the general ever getting to the phone, doctors rushed into the room. Bandages, stitches, syringes and much more were used and after a long time he had made it. He would never be able to walk again, never be able to work again, never go out in public again. He had been robbed of his honour. Pigs, he thought, let them go up in flames.

The two lovers ran.

They ran for their lives. 

From one corner to the other. Together they lifted a manhole cover. Like madmen they arrived at the agreed place: in the sewers under Matthew's bar. 

There they were supposed to meet Mary, but as soon as they arrived they knew what had happened. You could feel it in your bones that something was wrong. 

Everything was quiet. 

Too quiet. 

All the rats swam towards them and no vermin remained. Dean reached for Mirco's hand, whereupon the little one looked at the big one. No one said anything. Quietly, the green-haired man breathed on 3.

"1

2

3"

They ran.

Ran.

 Ran. 

Ran.

Hand in hand, until countless torches came on around them.

"Don't move or we'll shoot you," an unknown voice shouted. The lights were bright and it was hard to make out anything. Protectively, Dean put his arms around Mirco, but nothing helped. They were roughly handled by ten men per bounty hunter. Hansen screamed, jumped, bit, kicked and scratched. Many of the men were badly injured, but there were too many. After minutes of struggling, they were splashed of their power.

How could this be?

Everything was perfectly planned. There was no flaw. 

How did they know where they were?

So fast.

Too quickly.

Mary stepped out of the crowd, Whiteford and Hansen mere wrecks: 

"It's possible I'm a snitch after all, not a friend, and I'll lead you to the scaffold".

It was her.

She had betrayed them.

The most renowned bounty hunters were led away separately at that time. Without discussion, trial or anything else, they were thrown into an empty, stony room. A small light flickered on the ceiling. After several minutes, Mirco suddenly felt his finger again. Piece by piece he could move again, so could Dean. The frog threw himself into Dean's arms.

"You're all right!" he sobbed.

When Dean didn't answer, he lifted his head and looked at his face. He was pale and slight panic was reflected in his eyes. The charming laugh had faded. Hansen tracked the look on his face. His breath now caught too. The door was firmly locked and in front of them on the wall there were six square holes, just like on the floor. Gas was quietly pouring out of them, which Mirco only now really noticed. Panic-stricken, he stood up, shouted and rattled the door. Nothing helped. Suddenly he was gently embraced from behind. Together they slumped to the floor. He would never let go of him. Love will win, right?

The oxygen, it was missing-

"Only five more minutes!"