(Above is the song that fits Erik the most to me. His voice is pretty similar to the singer here(a little deeper than hers), but the lyrics fit him as the boy willing to do anything for money, even if it's unjustified. The evil laugh in the middle of the song is basically his too.)

There was silence from the small boy whose big purple eyes stared in shock at Wyatt. They slowly trailed down from Wyatt's face to the knife in his chest.

A smile formed on Erik's face. It morphed into an insane grin, and then full on laughter. 

Wyatt's eyes widened as he looked down. Instead of blood, water ran down his hands and pooled at their feet. At a closer glance, he noticed the water defy gravity as it travelled up Erik's body and began to heal the knife wound.

Erik kicked Wyatt away. "Y-you idiot!" he laughed loudly, pulling the knife out of his chest. 

Wyatt winced as he held his ribcage, eyes widening as Erik let out another crazy, diabolical chuckle. The small boy let out another chuckle as he tossed the knife away, his stab wound completely healed. "Clearly you don't know me well enough. My last name is the one I made up for myself. Why?" His purple eyes grew darker. "Because I kill men but they can't kill me. I lost my damn mind for this ability."

Erik smirked widely as a mad glint grew in his eyes. He walked slowly to Wyatt, drawing out another knife from his boot. "You piss me off."

Wyatt stepped back, his shoe reaching the edge of the building. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. 

The aura that was surrounding Erik Killman disturbingly reminded Wyatt of Royce. Both had the same sense of malice that showed no sign of good when they were angry. Erik's eyes darted to the blade. "Hmm. Looks like I didn't clean the knife good enough."

Wyatt's eyes widened as Erik brought the knife to his tongue and licked it slowly, cleaning the blade completely. "Better."

With one swift motion, the boy charged forward. He hauled Wyatt up and pressed him roughly to one of the supporting pillars. Wyatt closed his eyes tightly as his head hit the stone roughly, his vision dizzy. He struggled as he felt the cold, sharp edge just above his eyelid. Erik applied more pressure and began to slowly move the blade down his face.

Wyatt felt his skin tear and let out an agonizing scream, his struggling getting more desperate before he went limp. His vision went black as soon as the blade passed his eye and went lower. His screams subsided to whimpers as there was a moist, sticky trail of blood that ran down the left side of his face and dripped down his chin. 

He let out another scream as Erik's knife went through the wound that Royce had given him, reopening the wound. His hands scratched desperately at the pillar, leaving his fingers scraped up until they were also bloody. 

"Oh man oh man, if you could see the blood pool we're standing in," Erik murmured. "But, luckily, we're not done."

Wyatt let out a gasp of air that he'd been holding in his lungs. His hair was matted from the sweat that had gathered. The deep, mangled cut on his cheek felt expose to the warm, dusty breeze. It stung the wound, making him cringe. Through his right eye, he could see the blurry figure of Erik, looking at him with scorn. 

"What a shame, Wyatt. Did Royce not teach you pain tolerance properly? Maybe you should get stabbed in the back eighty-four times. That'll teach you how useless family is. Build up pain tolerance in the meantime. Ah, well, I was hoping that this would be more fun."

Erik lifted the the bloodstained blade once more to Wyatt's left eye and quickly slashed diagonally so that there was a bloody X cut into his face. Wyatt made a tortured sound in the back of his throat. He staggered forward when Erik let him go, hands covering his bloody eye tightly. "You monster."

Erik smirked as he licked the blood off of his blade. "I'm beyond a monster now. Ooh, I have an idea now! Let's play a little game of life. I'll give you one minute to get away from me. If you're out of my senses by then, I'll let you go. If you're not..." he giggled. "Well, then Royce wins. Okay? Yay! Good!" 

Wyatt's eye widened as he stumbled away and sprinted away, hearing the faint voice of Erik call out. "One! Two! Three! Four...!"

He forced himself to stop listening as he jumped off the building and landed, wincing as he fell forward and tripped. Wyatt ignored the pain in his knees and stumbled up, the hand over his eye leaving to push himself up off the floor and keep running. 

Wyatt scowled as he heard a faint chuckle. "Thane..."

"You should use shadow travel," Thane murmured. "It'll take you far in no time."

"W-what?"

"Just listen to me. Focus on where you want to go and head for a solid surface, like a wall."

Wyatt heard Erik's voice again. "Forty! Forty-one...!" He decided not to argue before running straight for the wall, picturing Star's house as he closed his eyes tightly. "Don't crash don't crash..."

He could almost picture Thane rolling his eyes. "You won't die."

"If I do then I'm going to kill you."

"Too bad, Sherlock. I'm already dead."

Wyatt felt a wry grin form on his lips despite the situation. He braced himself as he went into the wall. There was a cold rush of air as shadows took him in and he felt the floor disappear from under him.

"Idiot. You came out of the ceiling."

Wyatt's eyes widened as he fell and slammed into the kitchen table, letting out a choked cry in pain as he curled up and held his stomach. "Dammit, dammit, dammit..."

There was a shriek from Torch as he kicked away, landing on his back. Star stumbled back, eyes wide as she held onto the chair. She had a busted lip and a bandage around her ribcage. "W-Wyatt!?"

Wyatt coughed up blood. "Sup."

Isabell ran in. "Oi! I heard Torch scream like my little sister!"

Star regained her composure as she walked carefully to Wyatt. "You're explaining everything after we fix you. Torch, stop looking like he's Royce and get some bandages and disinfectant. We're gonna patch this sucker up like an old blanket."

Torch nodded quickly as he nodded and ran off, coming back moments later with his hair on fire and medical supplies in his arms. 

Star grabbed a bucket and filled it with water before she set Wyatt down in the chair. "Sorry about this beforehand," she said before shoving his head into the water. 

Wyatt struggled at the feeling of cold water on his face, bringing up a nasty memory of Dagger. He pulled his head out. "What the hell!?"

Star smirked as she applied the disinfectant. "To wash all the blood away. Duh."

Wyatt winced slightly and sighed. " I hate you." 

Star took out a needle. "Now. Would you like pink thread or black thread?"

"Bla-"

"Pink it is!" She threaded it through before injecting him with a numbing medicine.

Wyatt scowled as he lost all feeling in his face. Star leaned forward and began to carefully stitch his face up. "You'll have this for a while. Just saying."

He grunted in response, waiting her to finish the stitches. 

Star sat back when she finished, wrapping half of his head in bandages. "Well! Thirty stitches later! You look fabulous with pink thread, by the way."

Wyatt growled. "Asshole."

She snickered and took his wrist. "Come on. You need to tell me everything," her face going from teasing to serious.

He nodded as he stood up carefully, following her upstairs. 

Star opened the door to her bedroom, pushing him in before closing it. "Out the window."

Wyatt blinked as he looked around. "May I question why you have pictures of goddamn Greyson Dagger Belmont on your walls?"

Star's eyes widened as she flustered red. "Sh-shut up!"

"He's a bastard!"

"Just shut it, alright?" She snapped. She turned away, sighing. "I've known Greyson forever. He...he was so much more trustworthy and nice than any other man I've met."

"Damn, if he could hear you now he'd probably revert away from Royce's side. What about Torch, though? You seem to trust him a lot."

"He's different. I like him, but only as a friend. Nothing else."

"I see."

Star opened her window and climbed out, turning around so that she could hold her hand out to him. "Come on."

Wyatt backed up nervously. "Don't you kinda live on the third floor? If I die then there's no going back."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist, pulling him up and out the window. "No complaints. I'll shove you off the roof if you don't tell me what happened to your face."

Surprised at her impatient tone, Wyatt stumbled out, feeling the breeze against his hair. He looked over to see Star lying down and decided to do the same, sighing. 

"So, tell me about that face. You look like you've been through more than one battle."

Wyatt looked over at her busted lip and bandaged side. "You haven't been slacking either."

"Obviously. Do I look like someone who'd sit back and drink Scotch while my comrades are out on the battlefield? That's something Royce would do. I'm different."

"True. Who were you fighting?"

She snorted. "Mike D. Best. That's literally his name."

Wyatt sighed. "Football guy. Yep, I know."

"He was a worthy opponent."

"You killed him?"

"No, he ran away before I could finish him off. Anyway. What happened to you?"

"Started off fighting and then borrowed power from Thane. Killed...three hundred guards? Someone almost choked me but Griffin saved me and-"

She shot up. "Slow down, step on the breaks, and put the car in reverse. What did you say?"

"That someone almost choked me to death?"

"No. After that." She stood up shakily.

"Griffin saved me and then I fou-" Wyatt's eyes widened as the world turned upside down. His chin hit the rough tiling of the roof and he winced at the shock. Star twisted both arms behind his back, holding his wrists with one hand. The other hand drew out the dagger that he'd given her two years ago.

"Where is he now?"

Wyatt struggled. "I don't know! He was gone when I woke up."

"Any words?"

"He said that he lived in fear of his father and that he would die for Royce."

Her grip on his wrists tightened. "That idiot. Royce goddamn Hunter isn't any better," Star growled, letting go of him. "Sorry. The fact that my brother...the fact that he'd hate Father but decide to work for Hunter is disgusting. Continue."

"Later on, I met Jackson and-" Wyatt stopped midsentence, eyes widening. He shot up, eyes wide. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Star blinked in surprise. "What's wrong?"

"Jackson...I left Jackson back with Crimson Ryder and Erik Killman."

*****
Jackson Smith

Jackson groaned, squinting in the dark. He blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. The only vague memory he had was that there'd been a flash of clothes and light, and then he'd found an arrow lodged in his arm. After that, well...Wyatt had left him with Crimson Ryder. His classmate, of all the people to be left with. To be specific, his chemistry partner, who'd knocked him out and dragged him off. 

"Wyatt," he growled, "You bastard. When this is over, I'm going to kill you over and over again."

His talking ended when the door swung open. Jackson glanced up and found a man...no, a door standing in front of him.

He was tall, with long silver hair to his shoulders in the worst haircut possible. He had blood red eyes. Two black stripes ran across the bridge of his nose and a scar that resembled something like an arrow ran down his right eye. He was wearing a white shirt that was buttoned halfway and a black trench coat over that. He had khaki pants that purposefully reached only halfway down his shins and brown shoes without socks. 

In other words, the man radiated of evil and stank of sadism.  

Jackson scrambled backwards. "Who...who are you?"

He smirked. "Royce Hunter."

As if it was on cue, a group of people walked up from behind him. A small gasp caught in Jackson's throat as he caught sight of who they were. 

There were a few people that he didn't know, like the girl playing with a stick of dynamite or the ninja cosplayer. However, there were plenty of people he recognized just by appearance. 

In his life, Jackson never expected Cassidy Blaze to be on the evil man's side, nor did he expect Mike Best. At the moment, he wanted to sob and run his sorry ass back to Wyatt. 

As his eyes scanned the crowd, darting back and forth as his eyes widened. Betrayal struck his chest painfully. "Chase?"

His best friend was leaning against the door, mumbling in a drunken daze. 

Jackson felt sweat run down the side of neck as he watched Royce walked away. Before he left, he stopped and bent down to Cassie's ear, whispering quietly in it. Cassie nodded slightly as she tapped on Chase's shoulder, as well as the shoulder of what appeared to be an emo boy with silver eyes. The three of them left quietly.

Royce stared at his hands carefully as if he was admiring the detail of his fingertips. "Killman. Lighting. Best. Take care of him."

Three people nodded and stepped forward as Royce smirked and waved mockingly at Jackson before leaving with the rest of the group.

Mike spun around, eyeing Jackson like a dog with a piece of meat. He cracked his knuckles. "I'm gonna enjoy this so much. What about you, Erik? What's going on in that 50% brain of yours?"

"Shut up." The boy that he'd seen with Wyatt before stepped out of the shadows. His purple eyes glowed with a sinister aura. "Sure I'd enjoy a bit of torture. What about you, Gri-chan?"

"Naturally." Jackson panicked as he stood up slowly. 

Griffin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn. I wish Belmont was here. Might've made our lives easier to hear what's going on inside his head."

He felt a small hand hold him down by his head, forcing it back. Someone kicked the back of his knees and he was forced to kneel, eyes wide.

Jackson shivered as he heard a soft chuckle. "That's right, little Jackson. Just keep your eyes open like that," Erik murmured before sinking his teeth into his neck and drinking the blood.

His eyes widened. "Demon! Dirty bloodsucker!" Jackson screamed as he punched Erik across the jaw.

The small boy stumbled back, holding his jaw in pain as Jackson scrambled to his feet and ran out before going down the hall.

A sharp pain stabbed him in the thigh as he looked down to spot a knife before he tripped, sprawling onto the carpet. He tried to stand weakly, only to have a pair of strong hands grip him down and force him to kneel.

"No! No! No!" Jackson struggled, his killing instincts threatening to resurface. He tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Someone twisted their fingers into his hair painfully, yanking his head back with force. Through a blur of black and white, Jackson felt himself being pressed to the wall. 

Griffin and Mike held him down as Erik cracked his jaw with a wince. "You piss me off." He drew out a knife. "Oh, but Royce just said that he washed the carpets...too bad. I'm sure red will liven this place up a bit."

Erik smirked as he bent close to Jackson's face. "Now. Open those pretty little eyes again."

Jackson closed his eyes tightly and let out a shriek as he felt them being forced open. He felt the cold point of a knife right above his eyelid, felt it sink deeper into his socket. 

Luckily, Jackson passed out before he could experience the full agony of having his left eye stabbed out.

I gave up on censoring. They're teenagers. Teenagers curse the most.

Yes. Lots of surprise, uncertified surgery made by Erik Killman in this chapter. 

Question. Would you want surgery by Erik or by Royce, who has a Ph. D in the medical and science field? I'd go with Royce at that point.

Editing and feedback in the comments are greatly appreciated. :)