Well aren't you all lucky little badgers? Not only is chapter 25 earlier than (most of you probably) expected, it's nearly 5,500 words all by itself! I must say I'm proud of myself.

I hope this chapter makes up for the insane incomprehension of the last one. As I mentioned before, I was quite tired while writing the ending. I'll just say the indirect and fleeting verse was a tool used to convey the true confusion and delirium of our heroes u.u Yes, that's a good excuse I think.

In any case, I've decided to give up on estimating when this story is going to end. I had no idea exactly how much was going to go on during this 'final battle' scene, and I think I've only just gotten through the first half of the drama! Hopefully, very hopefully, if you guys don't mind what will probably be a longer chapter than this, I can wrap it all up and then tie up the fic by the twenty-seventh chapter. But as I said, we'll have to see.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Hopefully the next one will come soon enough.

Happy New Years!

Chapter 25

Flippy stood still, thinking.

Sometimes thinking is all someone can do. Sometimes events become too confusing and the mind, too boggled with an endless stream of garbled information, forced the body must shut down and allow itself to try and make sense of insanity. Flippy, in his time, had witnessed many terrors. Some memories were chalk drawings, sketched in dirt, and were blurred by years of rainfall – the memory of the pictures, though, were enough to cause Flippy grief. There were fresher memories too, of friends being impaled or torn apart, and of blood, sometimes staining his own paws. His body was used to getting triggered and shutting down on its own accord.

Flippy knew madness, and what he saw in Flaky in that moment was nothing short of hysteria. For a while he couldn't process her words or her actions, so he only stood and watched as she frantically pulled out kitchen drawers, probably in search of a knife.

"We have to kill them."

There was the smallest part of Flippy that believed – oh, how much it wanted to try and believe – that by 'they', Flaky meant the strange and frightening god-cat whoevers, the ones riding a giant purple beaver who seemed so painfully familiar and talked of eating souls. Flippy knew better though. Even in the midst of all the insanity, the pure discontinuity, the incomprehension, there was still a little bit of him that was calm.

For a moment longer Flippy watched. Flaky, dressed in some of his own discarded clothes, now dirtied and torn beyond repair, her hair and quills sticking on-end from nerves. She was twitching and stuttering, her eyes wide and gleaming with fear, yet she seemed very different from the Flaky he had known. She was not the same porcupine Flippy had walked into the hospital-tree with all those endless days ago, and what frightened Flippy the most was that he didn't think it was for the better, not anymore.

Flaky was coming toward him, saying something and holding a kitchen knife out to the bear. Flippy couldn't quite understand what she was saying. It was muffled, like he was hearing her voice underwater. Dumbly, he reached out his hand and took the knife from her.

In Flippy's rational mind, Flaky had cracked, had finally snapped under the pressure. It wouldn't have been her fault – she'd spent the past uncountable number of weeks waiting on dozens of horribly sick animals, almost completely on her own; she'd suffered the deaths of friends and had died at her own hand; she'd witnessed the impossible, and then had to watch as it was dragged away into the unknown. And in the midst of all this, Flippy knew Flaky had felt completely defenseless, absolutely weak against the events transpiring against her. It made sense to Flippy that she'd gone mad and that something needed to be done about it, before she did something they would all regret, her most of all.

…It would be easy, Flippy realized suddenly. He had the knife in his hand. The blade felt almost familiar between his fingers, though he'd never consciously wielded a weapon in such a long time. Wouldn't it be the most sensible thing… to kill her first? The very though made Flippy's stomach sick, but he was so uncertain, about everything, that this one thought was the only thing that seemed to make any sort of sense. In war, sometimes sacrifices were made – sometimes to save many lives, you had to destroy a few. Sometimes it only took one kill to make things right again.

Flippy's fingers wrapped themselves tightly around the hilt of the knife. His eyes focused, returning Flaky's stare at last.

They stared at each other for a little bit longer. Flippy saw tears in the porcupine's big, beautiful scarlet eyes, but there was something else too. What was it; insanity, fear? Or maybe hope? Flippy didn't know and he'd never be able to tell, not even if he spent the rest of his years staring into Flaky's eyes. But whatever it was, it made him loosen his grip on the knife and point it away from Flaky's throat.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't face this all on his own. He was frightened and confused and so sure they were all going to die, for if all that Flaky claimed was true, how could they possibly win? Flippy realized he felt the exact same way he did back in the W.A.R., so capable yet so paralyzed, unable to help anyone, even himself.

Yet here was Flaky, standing as tall as she could hold herself, a knife in hand, about to do something she probably knew she would regret. She had no idea if anyone would live through this, and in truth she was probably more afraid than Flippy was, but she determined to do it anyway.

She offered him a hand. Flippy stared at it, wanting to grasp it in his paw. He hesitated. Flaky looked at him again, worry creasing her brow. "Flippy?"

Noises rumbled in their shared silence, sounds of the tree being ripped apart from the branches down. There was very little time now. Flippy needed to act.

"They say that the best fires burn brightest," whispered Flippy, "when circumstances are at their worst. I…I'm not sure if I believe you Flaky. Not about anything. I'm afraid and I don't think we can get through this, but…" He put his hand in hers, and then held it more tightly, bringing it closer to him. "I want to trust you. You've been taking care of all of us and helping us all the time, so I think the least I can do is stick by you and have your back. I'll do whatever you think is right. If you think killing our friends will save them from death, even if it's only for a while, then I'll help."

Flaky's face crumpled, and she buried her nose in Flippy's chest, letting a sob out. It was quiet, and she recovered quicker than Flippy expected, whipping away the ears though Flippy knew it must hurt her to hold back. But holding back is what one must do if they're to save lives. The porcupine took a deep breath and turned to the hole leading to the basement.

It was difficult for Flippy. He'd killed so many men before, but had done so looking through the eyes of another bear. The hands which had murdered and maimed belonged to his body but were not his. Memories of past sins didn't stain Flippy's mind as they should have. Now as he descended on his last remaining friends, slicing throats and trying to kill them as swiftly and painlessly as possible, Flippy could barely keep himself together. These memories would be his to hold, his burden to bear.

It was very little trouble, and the veteran bear was surprised (and somewhat discomforted) by the fact that Flaky did most of the killing. She was painfully clumsy in doing so, but quick about it. When Mole knocked the porcupine's knife from her hand in surprise and terror, using his walking stick to keep her at bay, Flaky resolved to pull a quill from her back and jam it in the mole's throat, bleeding him out. She took out Cuddles and Nutty as well. Petunia, who had actually tried attacking Flaky after the red female killed Nutty, had her throat slit by Flippy while the skunk wasn't paying attention.

It was a bloody affair and Flaky was crying by the time they'd finished, but there was no time for comfort. Flippy grasped Flaky's shoulders and quickly shoved her back towards the stairs as he heard the attention of the monsters direct back towards them. They'd finished tearing apart the top half of the tree, a process which had been very loud and very distracting, with falling bits of floor, furniture, glass and wood constantly raining upon them as they worked in the basement. As Flippy and Flaky made it back to the kitchen floor, large purple fingers had started digging into the earth around the tree, getting ready to uproot the entire structure from the ground.

As the floor trembled and the sky quaked above them, Flippy took hold of Flaky's hands and pulled her close. He whispered in her ear, loud enough to be heard over the uproar but soft, so only she could hear, "When the tree is uprooted, grab hold on one of the roots. Dig your claws into it if you have to. Use your knife. Stick close to me and we'll be alright, I think. We'll try our best to kill these psychos."

Flaky nodded, still whipping away tears, dirtied as they rolled down her dust-stained cheeks. There was blood staining her already crimson fur, painting morbid pictures on the shirt and pants Flippy had given her. Everything about her read disheveled. Flippy, overwhelmed by a sudden swell of affection for her, pulled the porcupine into a tight embrace. She gasped in surprise, and he laughed.

"We'll get through this," he muttered into her hair. They pulled apart, and Flippy smiled. "We'll get through this! Right?"

Flaky nodded, the slightest smile twitching on her lips.

The roots of the tree began to scream. Their tendrils snapped and split apart as they were torn from the earth. Quickly, both Flippy and Flaky acted. They ran towards the closest tree root, digging their knives and claws into the soft underbelly of the bark. Their breaths were taken away as the purple beast finally pulled the tree out of the earth, with roots snapping like elastic cords from the force. Chunks of rock and dirt whirled a shower, snowing through air as the tree was lifted higher and higher. Clots of dirt tumbled down into the hallow tree trunk, some striking Flippy and Flaky as the tree was lifted, as it began to tilt upside down. It was all Flippy could do not to become disoriented, or to be blinded from the whirlwind of debris, which now littered the air densely.

As the movement of the tree slowed and the filth in the air settled, Flippy was able to see around him. Any objects left remaining in the massive hospital-tree had either fallen out, broke, or were sliding down the inclined now, flying down through what was the top of the three, though it was now slightly beneath Flippy and Flaky. Through the walls of the tree were giant cracks, made by the beaver's claws.

The tree must have been demolished from the top, for all branches and leaves had been torn off, strewn carelessly across the clearing which circled the hospital-tree. As well as the top, the entire third story have been torn apart, leaving only two floors worth of tree left. Some of the stairways and floors were still left intact against the walls of the tree, but as gravity weighed down on everything, Flippy witnessed as chunks of flooring crumbled and fell.

Through the hole at the top of the tree, now below them, Flippy could see the two cats and the beaver. The purple beast have been holding the tree with both hands, holding it above his head so that the bottom and roots were pointed diagonally upward, and the top was open towards his head.

Luckily, neither the beaver nor the cats had spotted Flippy and Flaky yet. They were all invested in searching for any living Friends. The part of Flippy which had doubted Flaky couldn't help but feel very relieved they would find no one alive down there.

The bear turned to his partner, who had expended one hand to keeping her shirt over their now upturned heads. The knife was sticking out of the root, and her other hand had buried its claws deep into the meat of the tree, as well as those on her toes. Flippy cautiously but quickly pulled himself closer to her, leaning in close enough to whisper in her ear.

"Here's the plan," he said, his voice brisk but clear. "I'm going to let go of the root."

"What?" Flaky's voice squeaked. Flippy winced and nearly used a hand to shut her mouth, but his warning glare was enough to silence her.

"I said I'm going to let go Flaky. Listen, I need to distract them. It's no doubt they'll catch sight of me before I get close enough to try and attack, but I can still act as a distraction. You need to crawl onto the outside of the tree so that they don't see you. Or hide in the mass of roots and wait until you can attack."

Flaky shook her head. She made sure her voice was quiet when she said, "That's a horrible plan! What can I possible do? It'd be better if you were the one to hide and I get caught!"

Flippy shook his head – not because she was wrong, but because the very thought was a terror to him. "No, no, they won't be expecting you. You're quieter than I am, and if they try to hurt me I can hold my own. Listen Flaky, we don't have much time, I have to let go now!"

Tears threatened to breach her eyelids, but Flaky blinked them away, then nodded. Her face became straight and determined. "Go. I'll do my best."

"That's all I needed to hear. Good luck."

"Be careful."

"Promise."

The bear let go of the root, pulling his knife with him. His body hit the side of the tree with a quiet bang that hurt his hip, and before he could sort himself out, Flippy was sliding diagonally down towards the two gods. His decent was alarmingly swift, and he barely had any time to right himself, with his feet facing downward. Flippy was sure there was no possible way they'd fail to hear or see him approaching, so he prepared his knife, holding the blade between thumb and forefinger, aiming it carefully as he slid.

With no less than ten feet to spare, the white leopard's ear twitched. At that moment Flippy pushed himself onto his feet and threw his knife straight for her.

The leopard screamed as the steel of his knife buried itself into her left eye. Flippy leapt just before reaching the end of the tree trunk, over her head, and landed clumsily on the very back of the beaver's skull.

He needed to be quick. Flippy, encouraged by taking down one of the enemies already, quickly turned on his heel and prepared to grapple with the other. Maybe he'd rip the knife out of the feline's skull – the shock of seeing his comrade fall so suddenly might stun the black one long enough for Flippy to-

The white leopard chortled with glee as she pulled the knife out her impaled socket. There was a hideous amount of blood flowing from the wound, but then, in the blink of her good eye, the wound was suddenly gone. The gaping hole was suddenly full, and she suddenly had another eye, and the blood had all of a sudden stopped flowing. Flippy's body was rigid as he watched the female twirl the knife between her fingers, cackling.

The knife became a snake.

"Looky! Looky 'ere brother, looky who we got 'ere!"

"I see him, sister."

"Ain' 'ey jus' ador'ble? Tryin' t' off a god! Ev'n brought a knife t' the party!"

The snake became a baseball bat.

The female raised the bat over her shoulder, electric-green eyes flashing at Flippy as he stared in horror. "Maysby I sh' bash 'is head in with it, huh brother?"

The female laughed, and Flippy dared take his eyes off her for a second, focusing on the black feline who stood slightly further back. Immediately his heart stopped beating.

"You know me." It wasn't a question, but a statement, uttered by the black leopard. It was amused, almost coming out as a purr. "I know you very well, Flippy. You've walked my fields. You've felt my touch and have fed me with your madness." An evil smile. "You were always my favorite of them."

"Oh mine too, mine too!" cried the female. She grinned at Flippy. "Yer friend's my friend y'know, I made 'im!"

She started to sing, "Sleepin' in a carcass, blood an' meat an' bone, screamin' in our heads, take me home, take me home!" The bat in her hands turned into a mirror. She held it up and showed it to Flippy so he could see his face. "Close y' eyes an' count to ten, let 'im come home! Close y' eyes an' out 'ey comes t' eat on flesh an' bone!"

"Oh look," said the male, exasperation evident in his voice, "you've got her singing. Well done."

The female sang a song of insanity, leaving Flippy to stare at his own reflection, though he only saw Evil grinning back. For a second he humored the idea of being in one of his nightmares, enjoyed the wisp of a hope that he'd soon be waking up. His reflection started to laugh.

"Close y' eyes an' out 'ey comes t' eat on flesh an' bone," drawled the female, her voice suddenly deadpan and dripping with rot. Flippy's eyes widened as Evil's head phased out of the mirror; then shoulder, then arm, then legs.

Flippy wanted to back away, but any move might send him off the edge of the purple beaver's head. He watched as the monster, now ordered by a wave of the black leopard's hand, uncaringly took the tree and tossed it away from them. The crash was loud, and splintering wood cracked painfully against Flippy's ears. He could only hope Flaky survived the sudden throw. He wanted desperately to look over to see if he could spot any red, but knew if he did these gods might know he was up to something.

"What are you?" Flippy managed to ask, gasping slightly as the reflection got to its feet. It looked very much like Evil did the last time Flippy saw him, but its shirt was hardly a shirt, mostly strips of white cloth stained with blood; there were deep, bleeding grooves that looked like rope injuries scarring his belly and chest. His body had been branded with the same type of rune-like scars as the beaver, and blood was seeping from the disheveled bear's ears. By their lack of movement Flippy realized that Evil couldn't hear anything – they'd busted his eardrums somehow.

The black leopard tilted his head in mock confusion. "Who are we? Oh, but I think you know who we are, Flippy. We both know you very well."

Flippy shook his head angrily, hating the vagueness of the answer, despising the cool demeanor of this creature. He turned back to the white one. "And what about you? You said you… made Evil?"

The white leopard giggled, holding Evil's head affectionately against her, toying with his shredded ears. "Not technically I s'pose. I jus' gave 'im a voice, y'see. Everyone's a lil' crazy deep down, my dear brother jus' helped you t' allow my lil' pet 'ere to take over!"

The female's attitude suddenly shifted, and she pushed Evil away, her face distorting into that of impatience and disgust. She turned to her brother. "Why we talkin' t' this lil' shit fer? Ah'm fuckin' tired o' stickin' 'round this hellhole! C'n we jus' consume 'is soul an' bust outta 'ere already? Ah wanna show our miser'ble cousins what 'appins when y' trap two gods fer a thousan' years!"

Evil was shifting as well, barring his teeth in a familiar grin that was hungry for blood and carnage. Flippy shuffled away a bit, only to feel the hand of the black leopard touch his shoulder. Sudden flashes of the W.A.R consumed his vision, and Flippy cried as he pulled away, falling onto his knees, nauseous from the sudden wave of negative memories and fear. He stared wide-eyed at the male feline, suddenly feeling much, much smaller, and somehow subservient beneath his hot red gaze, like the flames of battle. "You… you're…"

The wild cat grinned. He turned to his sister and said, "Go ahead. Rip him to shreds."

A rough hand grabbed Flippy's left arm, digging its claws into his covered flesh. The veteran bear turned to see his double, now possessed and dumb to the world around him, violently pull at Flippy's arm in an attempt to draw him closer. The mangy bear's teeth were sharpened and aimed for Flippy's throat. Flippy twisted his hip, getting his legs between his body and Evil's. He kicked forcefully, but Evil somehow seemed stronger than ever, and barely moved an inch. Primal, rabid fear erupted in Flippy's body as he realized that he had no way of escape. He could not tear himself away from Evil, and even if he did these gods wouldn't let him get away so easily. Imagining what it would fell like to have Evil's teeth dig into his flesh and tear him apart, Flippy opened his mouth to scream in terror.

The noise was drowned out by a car horn and gunshots.

The scene, clenched by tension so that Flippy's body was moving slowly while boiling on the inside, suddenly exploded into movement and noise. Something hit Evil's cheek, and was powerful enough to throw the other bear back and loosen his grip on Flippy. The two gods to Flippy's right both turned to look behind Flippy, hissing at the disturbance in unison.

Flippy didn't waste time looking behind him to see what had saved him. He attempted to get to his feet and run, but now the creature beneath him was screeching. The beaver reared onto its hind legs, crying in pain. The movement threw Flippy completely off balance, and he tumbled backward, rolling over head and shoulders and down the beaver's back. Flippy flailed to grab something, anything, and hang on, fearing what it might feel like to smack against the ground from such a height.

His fingers found their grip on a knot of matted purple fur, clotted and hard from dried blood. It was a few inches below a still-flowing inscription. The stench of blood was overwhelming but Flippy closed his watering eyes and ignored the familiar scent as it stained his jacket, choosing instead to try and assess what the hell was going on.

He wasn't expecting for the answer to be two raccoons and a young buck. If Flippy wasn't still feeling the effects of horrible dread, and maybe if Evil wasn't slowly crawling down the beaver's shoulders towards Flippy, half his face torn and bleeding, the bear might have laughed at the impossible scene before him. There, driving from the line of trees that surrounded the clearing was Lifty, Shifty, and Mime, and they had hijacked Flippy's van. From where he was situated, Flippy could just see Mime in the glass of the front window, trying wildly to control the large vehicle despite all the chaos.

Lifty and Shifty were much easier to spot. The two of them were standing on the hood of the car, guns in their hands – Flippy wasn't sure exactly what kind – and they were shooting anything in their way. Shifty seemed to aim for the gods and Evil, while Lifty focused on raining bullets at the purple beaver, who continued to shift and screech in pain.

Flippy had questions – like how in the hell had Lifty and Shifty made it all the way to town? How the hell did they find his keys so they could steal his car? There was no time to think it over, however, because Evil's snarl was now audible over the gun shots and screeching. Flippy glanced downward, wondering if he'd be able to survive a fall. They were still up pretty high, but the bear didn't have much choice in the matter. He let go, trying to best to control the way he slid down the beaver's long back, over his rump and down onto his tail, rolling uncontrollably until his body twisted sideways somehow, sending the bear rolling onto the uneven ground.

There was no time to waste. The purple monster was going insane now, bullets digging into his gut as Mime drove the car under the upright beaver. The deer then swerved, tires screaming, with Lifty and Shifty shouting excitedly at the top of their lungs, determined to be heard over their absurd spree of trigger-happy mayhem. The two cats above were somehow keeping their balance easily while standing atop their mount, but they must have lost their tempers, a thought evidenced by the lashing of their tails and the flurry of attacks they threw at the raccoons. They seemed to pull shadows and moonlight from about them, clutching it in their hands and then throwing the bullets like baseballs. The shadows burst hungrily, and the light scorched whatever it touched.

Flippy didn't try to make sense of it. Evil was right behind him. If Flaky was right, and those two cat-god-whatever's needed to consume a soul to escape the area, then it was up to Flippy to catch up with the thieving raccoons and their chauffeur and get the hell away as soon as possible. Whatever happened after they broke the line of trees was unimaginable, but it was as far as Flippy could plan. He wanted to stick to some sort of order.

There was one problem Flippy realized as he ran, debating whether to try and finish Evil off or simply attempt jumping onto the moving truck. Flippy had no idea where Flaky had gone. Worst case scenario was that she'd been killed after that beaver tossed the tree away… or maybe that would be a good thing? Flippy wasn't sure, but personally, the very idea of Flaky being dead at the moment made him weak-kneed and sick. Glancing toward the now discarded and completely destroyed hospital tree, Flippy decided it wouldn't hurt to at least try to find her.

He scampered for the roots of the broken tree, trying to keep one ear open for events which transpired behind him. The gods seemed not to notice that their little prisoner had fled – that or they didn't miss him. They were much too busy attacking Lifty, Shifty, and Mime. Part of Flippy wondered how two beings which claimed themselves to be gods, and who had undoubtedly proved such facts as true, still hadn't easily swatted the pestering crew away like flies. Then came the surprisingly simple answer: they weren't powerful enough yet. If they had powers of gods, then they wouldn't still be here, would they? They would have escaped by now. They were somehow bound to this area, and needed more energy to escape. As Flippy ran, he shivered at the idea of what would happen should they find said key to escape.

He made it quickly to the burial site of the hospital tree. The dirt had exploded beneath the impact of the falling tree, leaving a small crater to outline the broken trunk; loose dirt and rocks lay everywhere, hidden beneath layers of snapped twigs and leaves. Flippy hastily made his way through the mess, heading straight for the braid of roots at the tree trunk's base. He skillfully climbed up the first few roots, making his way to the top so he could peek through gaps, looking for any sign of red fur. "Flaky?"

The war bear twitched an ear to listen, but there came not a sound in response. He continued, glancing over his shoulder now and then to check on the events he'd left behind. The battle still went on, with the two gods throwing larger projectiles, and Mime's driving quickly loosing focus – the deer must be panicked, for he swerved dangerously, throwing the raccoon brothers hither and thither dangerously. Flippy knew that he needed to find Flaky soon, before the tables inevitably turned to the gods' favor.

He took note of Evil too. The other bear must have leapt from the beaver's shoulders rather than slide down, because he was limping towards Flippy in no apparent hurry. The bullet wound left a small, ugly hole on the side of Evil's face, leaving raw bleeding flesh exposed. The way Evil kept winking, Flippy guessed the blow must also have injured the mangy bear's left eye as well. Flippy mentally took note of all these injuries, which could aid him in the future, should the twin bears meet again.

The gnarled forest of roots left only small openings between each, but as Flippy wriggled further from the base of the tree, the spaces grew wider and it was easier to see. Flippy saw no body crushed beneath the roots closest to the ground, so he searched at eye level, as well as keeping an eye on the roots hanging above him. He circled around the tree once he was done, and repeated the process once more, keeping a sharp eye on the trees around him. He jumped at every shadow that moved, every notably sharp sound coming from the battle beyond, but nothing was Flaky.

After another few seconds, just after Flippy had checked Evil again – the other bear was getting unsettlingly close, but Flippy decided to risk another round – the veteran realized something was wrong. There was something missing in the buzzing of his head, a key note on an orchestra within his skull that had suddenly ceased playing. He realized, his gut churning, that the gunshots had stopped popping in the atmosphere. The raccoons had run out of ammo.

There was no more time to look. Without guns to keep the gods hurt and distracted, the two felines would now be able to directly assault Flippy's friends. If they wanted any chance of survival, they'd have to leave immediately.

Flippy clenched his fists in anger, frustration, and utter fear. He'd found no trace of Flaky, dead or alive. Leaving now would mean abandoning her. The very thought was sickening, but deep down, Flippy knew his duties now were just as important. Helping his friends get out of here alive, if only for a little while, was what Flaky would have wanted in any case. The green bear turned reluctantly to hurry away, catch the boys, leave.

The wrath of hell descended upon him. Evil, who had picked up speed as soon as Flippy turned his back, leapt from the top of the fallen tree and landed heavily against Flippy's unsuspecting form. The two bears tumbled roughly to the ground, rocks and sticks jabbing into their clothing. Flippy was disoriented, but wildly kicked his arms and legs, hoping to catch Evil somewhere which would cause the bear to release him. His foot managed to forcefully kick Evil's shoulder, driving the growling bear from Flippy's shoulders. Flippy scurried quickly to his hands and knees, backing away as Evil slowly got to his feet.

There would be no running. In the fall, Flippy must have injured himself in the leg somewhere, because a pain he hadn't felt during the attack suddenly made itself very apparent. The sole of his foot was searing with pain, and his angle throbbed beneath an unknown pressure. He must have broken it, or at least twisted it severely once thrown off balance. Unwillingly, Flippy was pushed back to fallen hospital tree, trapped beneath the gaze of his psychotic double.

Evil's green eyes glimmered. They held no glee, no pride, no excitement – only hatred. Flippy, in all his years of flipping out, of experiencing Evil's emotions through a glass well, had never once seen or felt hatred. Evil killed for the pure, primal fun of it; to him it was merely a great thirst that needed quenching. He was the part of Flippy – the neglected, twisted part – that craved carnage and thrived off it. He did it for the joy, never out of anger or hatred. In his last moments, watching Evil pull his trusty bowie knife from his loose belt, Flippy thought it fair to wonder what, exactly, the gods must have done to Evil to break him so deeply.

The knife caught moonlight, winking into Flippy's eye. It blessed him with the mercy of blindness in his final moments.

And neither Flippy nor Evil noticed the feet approaching, or the quill as it was driven straight through Evil's back.

I hope you enjoyed your read! Reviews are advised and adored~