The Moebian king's throne room was darkening with the tedious arrival of the moon. Dust floated in the air like eerie spirits illuminated by the sunset. The royal chamber was extremely minimalistic, with hardly any decor and even less personality. The only major alterations were the many scars of skirmishes that had occurred several times before.
Much of the tiling had been indented, upheaved, cracked, or powdered into dust. The windows lay in shards on the ground, along with faded banners that had once been gloriously vibrant. The ceiling was dangerously damaged, hanging low like an awaiting predator, ready to grab an unsuspecting victim. But the deformed castle had no other prey now. No soul was present but one: the king of his isolated kingdom.
His stance upon the royal seat was far less confident than it had been when he triumphantly earned it years ago. The king slouched in his chair, unfazed by the decomposing scene around him. The sensation of cold metal against his palm was the only thing keeping him conscious. His eyes were distant, his mind far away. Regretful, yet still full of pride. Suicidal, but with a will to survive. It seemed as if he had fermented in this state of inconsistency for an eternity.
It was very odd, but he wanted to stay in this decimated ruin- he, after all, had no options otherwise. But more than that, it reminded him of his climaxed days of power. The cynical king found gruesome amusement in recalling it.
Scourge gloomily stared at the crown in his grasp. The significance in it had died the moment he had openly put himself before his band of renegades in the attack against Mobius Prime. He had no care for morality, but it was that very action that resulted in his downfall. And that was all he truly cared for.
Somehow, he knew. If there was one reoccurring idea he had been able to instill in their heads, it was revenge. He was arrogant, egotistical, and a vulgar humorist, but he was far from stupid. The young king's reign was nearing its end. His lackeys had long since abandoned him. His popularity with the Moebians had been nonexistent from the beginning. It was only a matter of time before they stormed the castle and took what remained of his authority- and most likely his life.
He was tired of always fighting, always being on the defensive. It'd be a nice change to relax and enjoy himself. The calm before the storm might have been intolerable to others, but it was possibly the simplest and most enjoyable segment of his life.
A sudden crash reverberated from the other side of the castle. Loud, obnoxious voices fought for clarity among themselves, ringing louder and louder as they approached the throne room.
"Shut the hell up!" A scratchy voice, female, harshly commanded after the crisp echo of a whip. They silenced- considerably, at least.
The governess was Alicia Acorn, figurehead of the Suppression Squad and ex-mistress of yours truly. Scourge smiled at her leadership. He always had a thing for ladies who took control; then again, he lusted over most women regardless. As she and her band of thugs stormed through the flimsy doors, he was reminded how much of a philanderer he was. She was dressed regally, flaunting her perky bust and brandishing her feared whip. Shouting orders at her crew to silence, she locked eyes with the king.
If he was going down by her hands, he was going down with a damn good view.
But most surprisingly, a small figure stepped out from behind her sleek form, bearing the scowl of responsibility and cunning genius. A young, yellow furred fox with eyes too deeply mature for his age. Scourge didn't need verbal verification to understand.
He was the ringleader, operating from Alicia's shadow. And he didn't seem to mind manipulating them from the background.
"Miles." Scourge muttered in a evaluating tone. "You little fucker! So you're pulling the strings now. I should have seen it coming."
Out of all things, Miles smiled- a genuine smile- but those tiny irises gleamed at him with pure hatred.
"You can't see anything coming. Did you even think about this outcome?" He demeaningly replied as if speaking to a young child.
Alicia inconspicuously motioned for the muscle of the group- Boomer Walrus- to step forward. His massive body was intimidating enough, further decorated with horrifying cybernetics he had weaved into himself on his skull and arms. The rest of the team stepped back as he shadowed them in size.
Scourge scoffed at his insult. "Yeah, you couldn't accept my authority. Anyone could figure that out, you little sh-"
Boomer's metal arm pounded into Scourge's stomach mid-sentence. The hedgehog lurched forward on the impact, coughing. He slinked off the throne, clutching himself. The metal crown clinked to the floor, an eerie silence lingering.
Miles secured the crown under his foot.
"When'd you start prancing around as the big shot? Everyone here took you much more seriously when you were just a mutant freak with no parents." Scourge slipped the fox's most despised insult off his tongue.
This time Miles took the initiative to shut him up. With all his suppressed anger, he sent a forceful punch into the hedgehog's face. It hurt. Blood trickled out his nose ever so subtlety, but Scourge had the best poker face.
"You were a coward and a weak leader." Miles spat.
Scourge looked up at the fox, pain settling. "Yeah, well, I just had the backbone to do what was necessary, unlike you pathetic wipes."
The cybernetic walrus delivered a rib-cracking kick, hushing Scourge for the moment, aside from his groaning.
"I'm gonna enjoy pounding that arrogant smirk off your face." The walrus rumbled to him.
Alicia smirked, her sultry voice filling the echoey room. "Yeah, Miles. Let's show our 'king' how much we appreciate him."
The young genius grinned widely. "He certainly deserves the recognition."
A lanky coyote appeared before him, holding a sword to the hedgehog's throat playfully. "Pathétique. Maybe v'we zhould take out his eye. Or both...heh heh."
The swordsman subconsciously put a hand to the patch over his right eye. Beyond it was a void of black- thanks to Scourge.
"Easy, Patch." Alicia purred from behind him.
The coyote withdrew his sword disdainfully, and Scourge let out the breath he had been holding. Would it have been better if that sword had pierced his skin? Despite the situation, Scourge was filled with wandering curiosity. He thought about how it felt for his old man on the other end of the blade when his life was taken by his own son.
Should his daddy's dead eyes have traumatized him? It was a dirty secret in the back of his mind- they did- but he didn't even know it. It was a blurry memory. Fuck, it's all blurry. Everything is so blurry, it's like you're living in a fucking carnival ride that never stops. So high you don't feel the real world. And when you do, it's only when you hit the ground weak.
Poor dad. I killed you before I could see. Scourge rambled to himself.
Wish I had died with you.
It only made him laugh. He bellowed into the desolation on and on, receiving another brief beating until his laughs faded into snickers hindered by wet hacking.
"You- really think... taking me- out will... accomplish anything...?" He paused to cough up a drop of blood and cocked his head at Alicia.
"What are you gonna be the queen of, baby!?" Scourge gleamed at her with crazed eyes. "All those starving, angry people just can't wait to have another me sit on that throne!"
His words were smooth and sexy, despite the context of his speech.
"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. That's politics. Oh. But I'll bet your poor momma's rolling in her grave at all the murder and betrayal that's gone on in this castle." Another snicker.
Alicia chewed her lip in disgust.
A dormant rage surfaced inside of her, and out of pure emotional impulse she unlashed her whip clean across his face.
"Shut... up!"
The rest of the team, unsure, stood silent.
His cheek began to swell. Despite the searing pain overcoming his face, he maintained a snarky smile at his betrayers.
"Son of a bitch." Scourge muttered. "You still got it in you, sugar."
Her boot met his neck in an instant. He faintly grunted under her force.
"I said quiet you lowlife bastard!"
"Face the facts, Ally. You knew what would happen the moment you came here."
At that moment, Patch ruthlessly kicked his vulnerable face, sending a gush of blood to the floor.
Still at it, Scourge breathed softly to the ground. "The moment I step down, there's nothing left for you. I've already burned all the bridges. But you had nothing else to go back to but me... isn't that right?"
The future queen motionlessly stared him down.
"What do you know about anything, you arrogant traitorous asshole?"
"I've had a lot of time to think... here all by... by myself in this place."
As Boomer hoisted Scourge by the throat, Alicia remained frozen in thought. And as the boys continued to senselessly pound him (aside from Miles, who was having extreme enjoyment simply observing the ordeal), she watched with shocking indifference.
"I don't want to see anymore. Miles, stay or leave. It doesn't matter to me." The yellow fox furrowed his eyebrows indecisively.
Patch snickered. "Are you feeling remorse, Mademoiselle?"
"C'mon Princess. You were doing a number on him! The punk deserves it!" Boomer chided.
She ignored them as she walked past. "Kill him. I don't care how. And try not to get blood on those carpets- they were Mother's birthday gift, from Avalon, years ago..." Her voice trailed off.
"Nice work, Princess." Scourge whispered as she faded away from his vision. "You're doing me a favor. I didn't have the balls to do this myself."
Hearing his barely audible whisper sent shivers down her spine, and she was tempted to glare back at Scourge one last time. She struggled for something profound to say, something that Scourge would repeat as he lay dying. Remind him how powerless he was to save his own life.
Nothing came.
"Burn in hell."
If he had the energy, he would have grinned, but the newly usurped king was beginning to slip into unconsciousness.
Alicia gleamed up at the decimated ceiling as she walked, thinking about Scourge's words. By overthrowing Scourge, they had gotten their revenge and obtained great political power- but did that really benefit them?
They just can't wait for another me to sit on that throne.
Could Moebius really be too broken to be mended? Would it only become their problem and not their advantage?
Before she could think further about her heavy responsibilities, a crackling noise put her on high alert.
It came from above.
Small chunks of the ceiling rained down with the strange noise, as if there was someone walking on top of its deteriorated state. Fine dust rested on her shoulders, disturbed by the movement.
The princess twitched her ears and stilled completely. The noise was fading, moving towards the direction of the throne room. Curious, she drew her whip and rerouted to where the rest of the Suppression Squad was.
The walk back was unnerving. So quiet. Almost like...
Before a storm.
It was unbearable to her.
As she continued to follow the direction of the noise, she began to pick up a faint whisper. It was so faint, almost as if the wind was singing. The words were incomprehensible but continuous.
The throne room was within her vision now. Sunset fading, the corridor was delicately bathed in natural light from the gaping hole in the ceiling. She had hardly given a thought to look around when a rustling noise shook the cracked skeleton of the castle, sending more pieces of gravel to the ground. A figure swiftly moved across the gap and to the other side, where the throne room resided below it.
For a moment. She saw it for a moment. Such a familiar face.
Her whole body went numb when she realized who the figure belonged to.
With this sight, she dashed to the end of the hallway, stepping over the downed doors and into the presence of the fallen king and his betrayers.
"Guys, do you hear that?" Boomer asked, inspecting the creaking roof.
"It iz a spirit of ze castle!" Patch remarked loudly, his ego slipping to show his underlying cowardice.
"No..." Miles slowly answered. He was also watching the patterned creaks that seemed to imitate footsteps. "It's not..."
"Whatever it is, I'm raring to get back to business." The walrus hastily butted in.
"SHH!" Alicia stormed in, catching their attention, aside from the collapsed Scourge.
"Don't you realize who that is!?"
They could only gleam at her strangely.
"What's that I hear?" the voice so soft spoke. It echoed in the desolation like the moans of a phantom.
"Oh please be generous. Do you have any? Oh-oh I know you've got some!" After this outburst, the voice hushed for a minute longer, the footstep-like creaks on the damaged roof bringing more debris to rain on the Squad's heads.
The air was still. No one dared move. All eyes locked on the patterned circle of motion the figure walked in.
Then, a sweet and gentle giggle. It abruptly shifted to soft crying.
"But we had enough! We payed our taxes, I swear! ...Oh dear it's around here somewhere... Haha, such a silly mommy. No... wait... it was right here! There's no more! There's none there's none there's none there's none... shit shit shit SHIT!"
The disembodied voice stuttered, then laughed nervously.
"Cousin!" It sobbed. "SAVE YOURSELF, COUSIN! THE BAD PEOPLE MADE MOMMA COLD!" It trailed off with choppy breathing. "Now her eyes don't say 'I love you'. They're black black black so black..."
The sound of shattering glass decimated the stillness. The group raised their arms defensively against the falling shards. When the rain of glass ceased, they slowly peeked their eyes towards the ceiling, only to find no one there.
Or so they thought.
"I see now. This is the place where all good souls come to rest." The voice whispered.
"I recognize that voice..." Miles spoke.
Alicia looked at the yellow fox as he had the epiphany. Fear sunk into that devilishly evil face. He could only tremble.
"But it's been years... where did she go? How is she still alive!?"
The group frantically scanned the room for the intruder, to no avail. They readied themselves for attack. Scourge remained unconscious: bloody, bruised, and vulnerable.
"...Where good souls come to rest..."
"Fucking kill her. Don't hold back! She's dangerous!" Alicia yelled.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE? YOU'RE NOT ONE OF THEM! NONE OF YOU ARE!"
A shadow lurched forward, coming faster than anticipated. It knocked Alicia to the ground, leaving her coughing from the impact.
Mouths gaped open at the occurrence.
The figure circled back around, this time fully visible. She was a voluptuous young woman, around sixteen, wearing the outgrown and tattered clothes of a child. A white shirt was tight around her chest, exposing her belly. A dirty yellow skirt revealed her thighs. She brandished a green mallet, spikes protruding from the ends, stained with dried blood. With wild eyes gleaming from underneath her untamed pink quills, she giggled and whispered inarticulately.
"Rosy." Alicia gritted. "Rosy, why are you here?"
Rosy's disoriented eyes showed her question had not been heard.
"HAHAHAHA! Time for smashies!"