Wyvern didn’t relax after beating Cueball. He turned around and got back into a battle ready stance, expecting the Yakuza to turn on him or guards to come flooding in. But none of this happened. His ears picked up many footsteps, but none coming for the warehouse. Running away, huh? That wasn’t a problem for him. The major threat was already taken care of, so all he needs to do is call the police for the clean up.<br/><br/>Before doing that, he walked over to the maps and searched Cueball. A few minutes passed as he connected the dots and glared at a bag of red substance in his hand. His assumption being this was Feral, which Cueball went on about. Did the biker bring it for the Yakuza too sample? A power booster for emergencies?<br/><br/>The vigilante scowled under his gas mask at what he found. This whole investigation became much bigger than he initially theorized. ”Need to make the call and get out of here.” Wyvern grabbed a downed burner phone and made the call to the police. Rather not risk them tracking his personal phone.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Rakutsu got off his adrenaline high after the police made their arrest. He kept to the shadows to make sure Cueball didn’t wake up and escape arrest. His mask torn off his face and the hoodie kept up around his head. His body didn’t feel up to parkour all the way home. The powerful and feared vigilante became a simply tired teenager, up far beyond his bed time.<br/><br/>At least his body was agreeable enough to climb up to his bedroom window. The light turned off and door locked, giving the illusion of him being asleep, which he wishes to be.<br/><br/>The bag of drugs pulled from his pocket and thrown into his bottom drawer, which he knew would be safe. His cousins were forbidden from being in his room, after all.<br/><br/>He should have left the drugs for the police, who were more equipped and smart enough to analyze it. However, a part of him felt it was better to take it with him. Unlike Cueball’s war axe, which was taken by police for holding. Another part of his irrational mind wanted to keep it as a trophy, but it never came to be.<br/><br/>With a careless toss, he threw the gas mask into his closet and pulled his hoodie over his head. The musky piece of clothing thrown into his personal hamper along with the pants he wore. Same with his socks and underwear. The next step was going to be throw himself on to his bed and try his best to get up in the morning. But one thing stopped him. The way he smelt. No way in hell he was going to bed like this.<br/><br/>The teen hero unlocked the door and dragged himself to the bathroom, so he can take a shower. His tired mind failed to register the sound of rushing water as he walked in with a tired look.