He couldn't quite grasp how it all unfolded. It must have been a fleeting moment of inattention. Now, he found himself sprawled on the worn-out sofa in the dusty basement of their hideout, his abdomen swathed in blood-stained bandages, the effects of painkillers coursing through him, dulling the relentless ache that radiated from his body.

Aside from the severe gash on his lower abdomen, he felt relatively okay—if one could overlook the myriad of scrapes and bruises that marred his skin.

With him incapacitated, the rest of the Team was in heated discussions about whether to press on with their mission. M.M and Billy were locked in a debate over their next steps. Naturally, Billy was unwilling to proceed without his beloved boy. Thus, it was decided: they would halt the mission for a few days until he regained his strength.

As Billy entered the basement, he struggled to maintain his usual tough exterior, but it was a challenge. The sight of him, battered and bruised, tugged at his heart. He moved closer to the sofa, peering down at him, a flicker of worry evident in his gaze.