When the bean came to, he groaned in pain as the aching in his skull came to fruition. It was pitch black all around him, and he realized his arms were tied behind his back while his legs were tied to his seat.

He tried to remember what happened and how he got here, and eventually recalled walking home at night. He passed by an empty alleyway, and the next thing he knew, a blunt object hit the back of his head and everything went black.

As more memories came flooding back, a single overhead light was turned on, blinding him and causing his pupils to shrink. He blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes, being unable to rub them, but gasped in terror when a shimmering silver pistol emerged from the darkness and was pointed at his face.

"Calm down, Sweetie. I'm not gonna kill you—yet," a sweet feminine voice reassured, as she cocked the gun, "Now, I'm gonna ask you two simple questions, and I want you to answer them with utmost honesty. Can you do that, Pookie?"

Unable to find his voice just yet, the bean breathed shakily whole slowly nodding.

"Good boy. First, I'm gonna ask you what you know about Killer Bean."

"K-Killer…Bean?" he whimpered in confusion.

"Don't play coy. I know you were a victim of the mass shooting at the jailhouse that Killer Bean was kept in before he escaped. I was tasked with finding him, but I need more information. Frankly, you're the only sucker I can get my hands on, so start talkin'."

"U-Uh…I-I heard…that he retreated…to the northern outskirts of the city."

The female pressed the gun to his forward, indicating her impatience and distrust.

"That's all I know, I swear! Please, don't kill me!"

Just seeing him squirm and panic was enough to make her chuckle, as she pulled the gun away and stepped into the light. She was very light brown, almost white in color, with a thinner figure than most beans; shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail; sparkling yet intimidating pale brown eyes; her attire consisted of a light grey bullet-proof vest and white tank top underneath, both of which being very tight-fitting to bring out her captivating stride and curves.

"Thank you for cooperating. I just have one more question," she began while propping one foot on his knee, deliberately showing off the warmth between her legs, "Do you know who I am?"

The male bean's breath hitched, and he meekly replied, "Y-You're…Sweet Demise."

The female bean grinned boastfully, as spoke again with a soft coo, "Such a smart boy. And since you've been so cooperative, I'll let you go."

With that, she pulled out a burlap sack and draped it over his head to completely blind him, and went to work on untying his limbs from his chair. Once he was free, she yanked up onto his feet and held his wrists behind his back while leading him outside of the dark warehouse.

The streets were empty and silent, sans for the male bean's quivering and panicked breaths. Eventually, he couldn't stand the awkward silence combined with his inability to see.

"Y-You're really letting m-m-me go?" he asked shakily.

"Of course, Dear. I'm not a monster," the female answered nonchalantly.

"A-And you're not going to…to…"

"Spit it out!"

"You're not gonna sleep with me?!"

She smirked again, "You sound like you want it."

"No, I don't! Please, don't do anything like that! What will I tell my wife?!"

"Honey, do you even know why they call me 'Sweet Demise'?"

"Because you…uh…well, you…sleep with the victims you kill?"

"That's right. Only the victims I kill. So please, stop your worrying—you sound like a huge pussy."

As the man nodded rapidly and went quiet, he failed to notice as his captor pressed one of her silver pistols to his back and cocked it.

Mornings with strong hangovers were practically normal for Killer Bean, but this morning's hangover was even worse for some reason. He remembered parking the truck-loaded van he stole from the police in a storage house for the night, and then heading to a bar for some "dinner." After that, everything went black and Killer just hoped someone didn't recognize him; he hated to admit it, but sometimes the Shadow Beans were right about his constant recklessness.

The blinding morning sun shown through the single window in his dumpy motel room, which he rented until he could figure a way out of the city. Ever since his prison break, security and his arrest in Bean Town have both been at an all-time high.

Killer turned on the TV to try and take his mind off his headache, which was already on a news channel.

"Who even gets involved with the news anymore? It's depressing as hell," he groaned to himself while changing the channel. In his search for something different to watch, he landed among different channels, such as cooking, cartoons, and even sports. The cooking channel didn't seem like such a bad idea, but his sudden recollection of his hunger only made his mouth water.

He scoffed before turning the TV off and tossing the remote, "Too bad motels don't come with complimentary breakfasts."

With that, he slipped into his red bullet-proof vest, and then put a baggy trench coat on over top to conceal his unforgettable attire and golden pistols, as well as a black fedora to hide his face. And after making sure his identity was better hidden, he left the motel in hopes of finding a decent place for breakfast; even a bar would suffice right now.

But the mere second he heard police sirens echoing throughout the streets, he dashed behind an alley wall out of instinct. He was glad he listened to his instincts because multiple police cruisers came racing by seconds later, their lights flashing and sirens blaring. Other passerby beans were startled by the sudden noise, and their gazes lingered on the cruisers until they disappeared around another corner with a screech.

Killer knew he should get something to eat and lay low, but, like always, his curiosity clouded his better judgment.

"Well, no sense in sittin' around waitin' for something to happen to me," he told himself and started following the police cruisers' path, making sure to keep his head down.

Once he rounded the same corner, he found the police cruisers, along with multiple other armored vehicles and officers, not far down the street. It looked like a crime scene with police tape wrapped around a certain section of sidewalk, and a few beans crowded at the tape to get a better look.

Killer carefully snuck his way up to the scene, and took a glance at what looked like a dead body.

Yet another murder in Bean Town. What a surprise, Killer thought sarcastically.

The dead body definitely didn't belong to anyone he recognized and/or cared about, but he couldn't take his eyes off of it when he noticed the man's pants and underwear had been pulled down around his ankles. Had the police not already covered his extremities with a blanket, the bystanders would have been presented with a far more vulgar show.

But what Killer couldn't shake was that if this bean's lower half was disrobed, he must have been molested in some way, shape or form. Killer had heard rumors of a criminal that partook in sexually-charged murders, but he couldn't remember their name at the moment.

A policeman came by to remove the burlap sack from his head, revealing a bright red lipstick mark upon the corpse's forehead.

"A kiss on the forehead?" the policeman who grabbed the sack asked, as he stuffed the bag into a bigger plastic bag to save for evidence.

"Weird, isn't it? I mean, who does this guy or chick they are, anyway? Kissin' Kate Barlow?" another policeman questioned, and the two got a good chuckle out of it.

"I'd say an homage to Holes is the least of their problems," Killer whispered to himself, thinking that if a murderer who is this twisted, and obviously very skilled as well, is in town, there's a good chance they could be after him.

The last time he let another assassin come to him, it nearly ended in his own demise. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Killer's eyes darted back up when he saw none other than that annoying Detective Cromwell walk onto the scene to investigate. He lowered the lip of his hat to cover his face more, and averted his attention to his hearing when Cromwell approached the body.

"Another mystery murder case?" Cromwell asked one of the officers.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Is it the same as the last few?"

"Yup, dick out and all."

"Did he look spent?"

"How the hell should I know? Am I supposed to check or somethin'?"

Cromwell gave him a deadpanned look, "Yes, Officer. I want you to shove a thermometer down his urethra, and take his temperature."

The officer grimaced at Cromwell's sarcastic remark, to which the latter scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"No, ya stupe! I meant, did he look shriveled when ya found him?"

"What makes you think I checked?"

"You're an officer. You have to check everything."

"Look, if you're so interested in the dead body's junk, then why don't you just check it?"

"Fine," Cromwell sighed before muttering, "Wiseass."

Cromwell then lifted the blanket covering the dead body's lower half, and kept a straight face as he inspected the clearly-spent and shriveled extremities.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was Sweet Demise's doing," Cromwell explained while dropping the blanket and turning away to think.

"Who?" the officer inquired while following him.

"Sweet Demise, they're supposedly some sugar bean vigilante that recently showed up in Bean Town. Every time they kill someone, investigators indicate that they had some sort of sexual contact with their victims right before the fatal blow. Unfortunately, their victims consist of more than just half-wit criminals. Innocent lives, like this guy's here, have been taken all over the city, and it's throwin' our forces for a loop."

"If you can't catch them, then how do you know they're a sugar bean?"

"Anyone that's witnessed them and lived to tell the tale describes them that way. Aside from that, Sweet Demise never sticks around long enough for someone to find any other defining traits about them. I thought Cappuccino was slippery, but this Sweet Demise character's somehow even worse and it pisses me off."

"Well, as twisted as they are," the officer began, glancing at the dead body with a smirk, "At least they let their victims go out with a bang."

Although the officer was proud of his joke, Cromwell was more than displeased and shook his head without saying anything.

Killer had been listening closely to their entire conversation, and he was glad he finally had the name of that murderer he couldn't remember earlier, but he was also concerned about the fact that there was another vigilant criminal in the city. And if he kept one lesson he learned from the Shadow Beans close to him, it's that he knew this circumstance meant he needs to get the hell out of dodge.

Just as Killer left the crime scene, Cromwell started to speak again.

"What I can't figure out is what would bring this kind of person here. And why now?" Cromwell pondered aloud.

"How long ago did they show up?" the officer asked curiously.

"Roughly a month ago, but nothing special happened then other than-."

Cromwell caught himself when he realized what he was about to say, and instantly recalled the events with a certain red armor-clad, former Shadow Bean. Without another, word he walked off with a new objective in mind.

"Where're you going?" the officer called after him.

Cromwell didn't even look back as he responded, "To check out some city surveillance."

As popular as Killer Bean is, there aren't a lot of decent fanfics for it(that I can find), so I took it upon myself to write one myself. Hope you enjoy this terrible smut...then again, I must be doing something right if you're actually reading this.

Also, the title for this was inspired by the song "Low Key" by Ally Brooke and Tyga.