When Brock and Craig burst through the door, holding each other up and limping, covered in their own blood, the gang was surprised, to say the very least.

Not so surprisingly, Evan and Tyler were the first to their sides.

They took them to the infirmary and patched them up, each getting special care from their lover, Craig receiving a few kisses and a questioning gaze, and Brock getting the most bone crushing hug of his life.

Apparently, while they were on a simple robbing heist with Lui and Nogla, it quickly turned into a gang shootout, after their rivals showed up, showering the place with bullets.

Lui and Nogla went to their own safe house, to try to pull their enemies away from Brock and Craig, who at that point, were severely wounded and tired from the fighting.

They made their way back to the warehouse, where Tyler and Evan found them.

Tyler was furious. It was supposed to be a simple heist, and it went horribly wrong.

Evan was livid. Someone had tried to kill his Brock, successfully hurt his Brock.

But when the two exchanged glances, their lovers thought nothing of it.

Until Tyler and Evan didn't come to bed that night.

• • •

"Whoever the fuck hurt them...."

Wildcat pulled on his mask, signaling for Vanoss to drive, who had already pulled on his signature owl mask.

The owl nodded, looking up dangerously from his mask and speaking through gritted teeth.

"They're gonna fucking pay...."

• • •

Bloodied knuckles gripped a shirt collar, pulling hard to make a point.

Cries and begging filled the air as bones cracked, no doubt broken.

Shaky gasps mixed with painful coughs, voices long gone from the beatings.

Masks had been tossed to the side, they wanted their victims to see who was killing them. See who was exacting their revenge.

Bruises and marks, indentations from the many rings that Wildcat wore, now littered quite a few mens' bodies, mostly their faces.

The blue eyed man dropped the body he had been pummeling, smiling at the lack of life and spitting on the fresh corpse. He looked over his shoulder to see his partner on top of another enemy, hands around a throat, pushing and squeezing until the man beneath him had stopped moving. Stopped breathing.

With a swift kick and a scowl, Vanoss was done. He removed himself from the man, standing and brushing his hands together, wiping them off.

He turned to face Wildcat, and gave a small smile, which the man in zebra pants returned rather easily.

They surveyed the damage around them, a laugh escaping Wildcat's mouth as he noticed the ring leader of the group, a tall man dressed in a dark suit, gasping for breath and holding his side, attempting to crawl for the discarded gun just five feet away.

But, before he could reach it, his mouth became covered in blood and he began choking, oxygen blocked from entering his lungs.

The two watched in pure satisfaction as the leader exhaled for his last time, face hitting the concrete lightly.

They had shown no mercy. No remorse or guilt for their actions.

How could they, after all, it was in the name of love.

They only hoped their two favorite people wouldn't be too upset over the damage done tonight.