WARNING: some severe gore and violent description at the end. This is a bonus part following the final Waterfall chapter that I wouldn't say is required to understand the story.
And yeah, I'm kinda sorry.
Waterfall - Bonus part
"What do you see?!" Mickey demanded. "Willy, anything? Simon, what do you see?!"
Simon and Willy examined his legs as best they could. They went over them not just once, but twice, thrice and even four times. Despite their thoroughness, they found nothing unusual. Willy found no magic aura or anything outside the armour, nor anything strange inside it. To Simon's medical knowledge, these were two healthy knees without even a sense of a bruise.
"I… I can't find anything," Simon said. "There's nothing wrong with your legs. They're fine. You're sure you didn't just, I dunno, imagine it maybe?"
"Ugh, I know WHAT I FUCKING FELT!" Mickey cried out in frustration.
"Oh… god…" Simon wailed. "F-forgive me, my lord, I… I didn't mean to speak against you…"
"Calm the fuck down, Simon," Mickey replied. "This ain't your fault. And I thought I told you a while back to stop calling me lord. You're my pupil, not a slave."
"Right, lo- er, Mickey."
Mickey sighed with frustration and placed his palm under his chin.
Was it all in my head ? Mickey pondered. No. It can't be. It was so real. I could feel the same sensation as when my bones snapped during the last timeline. I could even feel the brain chunks on my fingers and the hole in my head. What is this echo of time ?
"My lord," Willy began in his calm voice. "I am wasted here. I should be out there, hunting."
"No need," Mickey replied. "I'm sure the others can handle it. You should learn to put more faith in them."
"Hmm, your wish is my command," Willy said.
"Explain to me once more, Mickey," Simon inquired. "You fell down a pit, you shot yourself to reset, and then your body just… broke again? And none of us could see it? Why?"
"If I had a clue, you two wouldn't be here," Mickey said. "If you two can't figure it out, then I can only hope Gaster might know something."
Simon looked visibly distraught by hearing that name.
"A-are you sure asking him is necessary?" he asked.
"I'm not a fan of that thing any more than you are, Simon," Mickey said. "But yes. It might be necessary."
" D-don't talk about him like that ," Simon whispered with discomfort. " He could be listening ."
"I'm sure it is," Mickey simply said.
He pondered again, pondered if he could recall anything remotely similar. To his unease, there was nothing he could compare it to. While rushing through the dark recesses of his memories, in the physical world, the rest of the warriors came stumbling out of the forest.
Umbla was in front, holding Vissie in both her arms. The skinny goblin lady was without her mask, which dangled on Umbla's belt, and the goblin's dizzy-looking face had a visible red stream of blood flowing down from her head.
"You're… early," Mickey said, growing concerned.
"Jesus," Simon said. "What happened to her?"
"You're the doctor, ain't ya?" Umbla asked dismissively.
"Alright…" Vissie began. "Don't freak out boss, but-"
"V tripped," Umbla answered.
Vissie looked up at her incredulously.
"Is that so?" Mickey asked, not fully convinced.
"Erm… yeah?" Vissie said. "That might've happened."
" Might've ?" Willy asked softly.
"Her head's still suffering from the blow, probably," Umbla said.
"Yeah, we were going after the humie and it's friends when-" Vissie began.
"Cut to the chase, where's the human?" Mickey demanded.
Vissie and Umbla looked at each other, both knowing where this would end.
"Where's… the human?" Mickey repeated. "Is she standing behind you?"
"Erm, Eldur knows," Vissie said. "Drake boy was the last one to see her and the other two pricks."
"Alright, then bring Eldur forward," Mickey said.
Umbla walked to the side and let the drake walk forward. Eldur could not hide his nervousness as he stared down at the ground as he walked. Once he was besides Umbla and Vissie, he finally gathered the courage and looked up, seeing Mickey's unmasked face, which looked at him with an uncomfortable glare.
"Alright, boss," Eldur began calmly. "Hear me out-"
"Where. Is. She?"
Eldur gulped as he gathered his thoughts, he looked up at the distant star crystals as if it would be the last time he would see them. He removed his mask, revealing his green dragon head and snout to the world, then looked Mickey straight in the eyes and began his fiction.
"I tried to fight them," he lied. "I fought hard. But the human. And the flower. They're too strong. Believe me, boss, I tried, and I'm sorry."
Mickey leaned back as if to absorb those words. All the warriors could practically see the gears grinding in his head. But still, Mickey was eerily silent, and Eldur began to expect that maybe, he'd be more understanding than he thought.
Then Mickey's face turned red, and he breathed unevenly. Suddenly, his skin turned grey and pale. Blue and purple veins became visible on his skin, and the entirety of his eyes, including the iris, the pupils and even the sclera turned black as the void.
"UUUAAAAARGH!" he yelled.
Mickey threw his arm to the sides and shifted his weapon into an unnaturally long stick of metal. It pierced through rocks, trees and even obliterating small hills in its way, creating tiny earthquakes and crumbling tons of bark and mould. As the entire group watched, all of them from Simon to even Willy were uneasy if not startled. What sat there was no longer their leader, but a devil in a man's body.
A flood of black oily tears streamed down his cheeks so that it looked like his eyes were melting. His mouth followed suit, the gums and teeth turning black as if painted with ink, and some of the blackness leaked out from there as well like saliva of a rabid dog.
At the same time that Mickey's loud and frantic breath lessened, his extended stick began to slowly, but surely, shrink, dropping off residues from destroyed environments on the way. The stick had shrunk to arm's length when he breathed normally again and his skin returned to being pink. The blackness absorbed itself in his mouth like a vacuum, leaving stain covered teeth and gums. Then he closed his black eyes and opened them a moment later. They were bright blue again. However, long lines of black oily stains remained on his cheeks like eyeshadow tears, with residues of inky "saliva" dangling off his beard. Also, while his anger had slightly abated, his expression visibly filled with wrath.
Eldur watched the whole event occur, certain Mickey was going to strike him at every moment. But as it passed, Mickey simply leaned back with a palm over his face as if he had already forgotten about him.
" Of all the days when my gift would finally fail me ," Mickey muttered.
He groaned.
"Cheer up boss," Vissie said. "We'll just get them next time. The Chaos still has strands leading to possibilities of victories."
"That's the problem," Mickey said. "Next time. There shouldn't be a "next time". The stability of this kingdom demands there be none."
Simon, despite on the verge of looking traumatised, leaned slowly to his ear.
" M… Mickey… ?" he asked as gently as he could. " Erm, excuse me, but… why won't you just… reset? Like usual ?"
"Oh my, Simon, you're a genius!" Mickey said bitterly as he scowled at the young boy. "Why on earth haven't I thought of using my main fucking power that I always use every day?!"
"S-sorry…!" Simon quickly apologies. "But I… I still don't-"
"Somethings wrong," Mickey growled. "I can feel it in my soul, in my flesh. My ability to load and reset is… broken. Glitched, for lack of a better word. I won't dare use it again until I know more for certain."
"Load?" Vissie asked with curiosity. "Reset? Glitched? What is this word soup you're spewing?"
"That doesn't concern you," Mickey replied.
"It concerns Simon for some reason," Umbla pointed out. "If that dweeb knows something we don't then I demand to-"
Willy, confident what Mickey wanted, stepped in front of Umbla and stared at her with his cold gaze. Not a word came out the monkey's mouth, but that simple act was enough to shut Umbla's protests.
"I said: it doesn't concern you," Mickey growled.
Finally, his eyes went to Eldur, who had been standing in the same spot unmoving since he broke the news. The drake almost faltered backwards once he saw his gaze. It was complete with eyes that showed not anger, but terrible disappointment.
"I'm… sorry," Eldur said. "I promise you. It will not happen again."
" Not happen again… " Mickey repeated under his breath.
He reached into his pocket and procured another cigar. Eldur waited still and watched as he lit it and puffed. Only after the second puff did he finally give Eldur another eye contact and proceed to talk.
"Tell me, Eldur," Mickey said calmly. "Did I ever tell you… about my grandparents?"
To say that Eldur was thrown back by that question would be an understatement. Of all the things Mickey could've said to him, this was not even a consideration to the drake.
"Sorry?" Eldur asked.
"My grandparents," Mickey said. "I've never told you about them, have I? Alright, go on, take a seat I'm gonna tell you a story."
"Erm…" Eldur began.
"Please, sit," Mickey said. "Sit down, I insist. Please sit , I want you to -!"
He stopped himself from raging, as Eldur sat down cross-legged. Some of the other warriors proceeded to sit down as well.
"No, no, no, you guys don't have to," Mickey said. "This is a story for Eldur."
The other warriors, confused, stood back up.
"Comfortable?" Mickey asked the drake, smiling.
Eldur said nothing, and Mickey seemed to expect that. After a moment without answer, Mickey huffed his smoke and looked away in reminiscence.
"So… my grandparents," he began. "Well, my grandfather was named Charlie, I think, can't exactly recall his name but it was something like that. Anyway, my grandfather and grandmother Rose were… to put it mildly, not the greatest people. You see, they took me in after the government… forced my mother away from me. No one knows who my dad is and all I've ever been able to find was that he was some foreign guy named Mickel. Supposedly. Anyway, my dear old grandpa was the closest thing to a father for the longest time, and he was the worst person I ever knew. Fuck me, the things he put me through. It was rarely straight-up beating, for that was always too visible and obvious. Instead, whenever I slightly misbehaved, his favourite thing was locking me up in the dark, windowless basement for the rest of the day, leaving me to sleep with rats and cockroaches. And grandma Rose, well, she knew how to use a cane. Her words sometimes hurt just as much, and her glares, phew, her fucking glares, man. She was like the evil stepmother in fairy tales, which she kinda was, in a way. And the worst part, for my whole life they always got away with it too. God, once, grandpa came home drunk and pushed me down the stairs due to nothing but an annoyance, and my wrist broke as a result. He told the doctors that I had tripped down the stairs on my own, and my grandmother gaslighted me into going along with that bullshit."
"That's… sad to hear," Eldur said, feigning sympathy. "But I don't understand what that has to do with-"
"I'm not asking for your sympathy," Mickey continued. "They did not mould me into who I am today. Because, the thing is, my grandparents may have broken my bones, my happiness… but they never broke my spirit, my reputation. The other kids in town, they didn't look down on me, nor pity me. Sure some did, but sooner or later, they either feared me or respected me. Sometimes a bit of both. Know why? Because despite everything that life hurled at me, I always came on top. I always stood my ground and fought through. Sure were the occasional halfwits, bullies you could call them, that tried to rise above me, but the smart kids knew not to mess with me. Heh, and I think those exceptions finally understood that reputation has value only after I smashed their stupid face in with rocks. Do you understand me? Despite what my grandparents threw at me, their awfulness did not define me. I kept my spirit and resolve and rose despite any obstacle. Despite everything, I was still in control. I was feared and revered."
Mickey then took a deep breath as if holding in growing rage. Then he pointed his finger to his side and continued.
"But this?" he said. "Your failure to catch them… is not just a failure. When monsters hear and learn about this, and they will, this will spread in one way or another, do you know what will happen? When they hear that Mickey and the great and unbeatable Royal Hunt , failed to catch a teenage girl, a talking flower, and a little child? Let me reiterate. Do you understand what these morons will think and do when they hear that we were bested by a little fucking child?!"
"I-" Eldur began.
"A little child!" Mickey exclaimed, almost shouting it. "Now our fucking name and reputation is on the line, all because of you! It's now only a matter of time until those rumours lead to people having thoughts of rebellions. Riots will form, and the order we have built here for years will be in danger. So… congratulations, Eldur. You broke what my grandparents tried and failed their whole lives to break. And now… I am genuinely angry."
The drake had a strong feeling where he was going. If he was right, there was no way out, just a matter of time.
"Look, if you're going to kill me," Eldur said tiredly. "Then just do it. No more ramblings, just get to the point and kill me."
"Kill you?" Mickey asked, sounding surprised.
He walked up to the drake who did not move away. Eldur looked away. Here it comes, he thought. Or so he thought. But just as Eldur was trying to mentally prepare himself for the final strike, Mickey, instead, began to chuckle.
"Oh please, Eldur," he said. "You're being way too dramatic."
Eldur's fear didn't abate. But the newfound confusion grew alongside it.
"What?" he asked. "I… I don't-"
"I think you've watched too many movies, Eldur," Mickey said. "After everything that you've done for us, for The Royal Hunt, do you seriously think I'm gonna kill you after one single fuck-up?"
With that, Eldur the drake took a deep breath of relief, which created visible black smoke from his nostril.
"Well, I… I appreciate it, boss-" he began.
"Don't," Mickey said. "I'm still pissed as hell. I'll get back to you in a moment."
He sighed and turned to explain to the rest of his warriors.
"So… things have changed," Mickey began. "We have just lost a red alert target, which is… unprecedented. But we won't give up. Instead, we must prepare and be better. But first, words of our failure mustn't reach anyone, lest people will begin to have doubts about our infallibility. We will pretend this hunt never happened, and as far as the rest of the underground will know, we've just begun the search. In a moment I will contact New Home and give out warnings of a "rumoured" human in the underground. Across every corner and every town, settlement, or village in the kingdom, faces of them and their "supposed" associates will be plastered on every place eyes can see. Even The Undernet will be plastered with ads and warnings 24/7. Nowhere will be safe for them, and if things go well, then in less than a day, they will be caught on the "first attempt" before any of them can spread the words of our failure this day. Understand? But if anyone and I mean if anyone , finds out about this, I'll know. And if I'll track the source down to any of you, then death… will be more than you deserve. Any questions?"
No one in the group asked or said anything.
"Good," he continued. "Now, I will head back to New Home for a short while, maybe for a day, and I'll take Simon and Eldur with me. I trust the rest of you will track down the human and co. Scour every inch, every blade of grass if you have to. But I command you to do it together this time, strength in numbers and all. Got that?"
Willy slowly nodded.
"Fine by me," Vissie said.
"Mhmm," Umbla said.
"Great," Mickey said.
"I guess we're off then, boss," Eldur said. "Alright, ready when you are-"
"Stop, stop, stop," Mickey said. "I'm not done with you yet. Just because I won't kill you, doesn't mean you're getting off scot-free."
Eldur took a deep breath. He should've guessed he wouldn't be that fair.
"What is it?" the drake asked.
"I'm thinking two options," Mickey began. "First, you're put on temporary unpaid leave. You won't be working for us for a while. This leave might last for weeks, months, or even a year. You won't be bound to us. But during that time, you won't be considered a member, meaning you won't have any of your privileges, pay, or elite status. Most importantly, you, or your friends and family, won't have protection. Not even from us."
Eldur didn't like the emphasis on the last sentence as he was half-certain what he was getting at.
"For the time being, you will be just another civilian," Mickey continued. "Want something? You'll buy it. Need somewhere to sleep? You'll find it. If you break any laws, you will be reprimanded like any other."
"Hmm, sounds fair," the drake said. "But what's option number 2?"
"You lose nothing," Mickey began. "You'd stay with the hunt and keep any benefit. But I'll give you… The Blood-Knuckle ."
Eldur had to stop himself from shivering as he heard that.
"Mickey… you… you can't be serious," Simon said with bafflement.
"Oh, I'm deadly serious alright," Mickey growled.
" Damn right he is ," Vissie muttered, grinning with hype.
"But… but don't you think it's too much?" Simon asked. "You're considering giving him The Blood-Knuckle because he lost a single fight?"
"That's not the point, you know it!" Mickey growled.
"Hmmph, hate to agree with the wimp," Umbla said. "But he's got a point. As much as I fancy it, this is a bit of an overkill."
"Really, fatso?!" Vissie exclaimed with an annoying shock. " You of all monsters …"
"Just saying," Umbla said and shrugged. "Blood-knuckle or forced leave? It is barely a choice."
Eldur considered her thought process. At first, he agreed with the boar-minotaur. It did seem like an easy choice. Temporary absence instead of excruciating pain he would never forget. But that's when he began to wonder. What would happen during his absence? While he would be chilling home or looking for temporary jobs, Mickey would have complete freedom to do whatever he wanted to everyone he loved. He could put his wrath onto his family and friends. He could even hurt him. Reginald. Mickey had always waited for the perfect excuse, and Eldur knew that.
He took a deep breath. He did not want this option, but he had decided. Otherwise, he might as well be selling everyone he loved to the devil.
"I'll take The Blood-Knuckle," Eldur said.
Simon and Umbla seemed to expect him to be joking, Vissie chuckled and clapped her hands together in excitement, Mickey smirked as if he was hoping for it, and Willy's only reaction was giving out a quick "huh".
"Really now?" Simon asked.
"I know what I said," Eldur told him. "I'll pick the Blood-Knuckle."
"For real?" Umbla asked. "Heh, well it's your choice. I ain't one to kink shame."
Her heartily chuckle boomed under her mask.
"So… you got more balls than I expected," Mickey said.
"Let's just get this over with," Eldur said, hiding his dread.
A large rock with a semi-flat surface was used as a table. Vissie had seen it earlier, and no one wanted to ask how she was so quick to think of it.
Even the most devoted to the ritual eventually tried to leave halfway through, so Eldur's arm was tied to his back, his other arm tied across the top of the rock with a rope. The rock was of an awkward height compared to him. Too short for him to stand, and too high for him to be on his knee, so he was forced to clumsily lean slightly down.
Eldur put on a brave face despite the dread once he saw Vissie approach him with a syringe of yellow liquid. He knew that liquid too well. The Royal Hunters called it Liquid Determination .
"Remember, just a tinge on his arm," Mickey said to Vissie. "Don't want him to melt."
"Pfft, you're the expert here?" Vissie said, grinning. "You know I've done this many times."
Eldur winced as the needle entered his arm and again when Vissie practically dragged it back out after a moment. After that, another much smaller rope was tied to his elbow like a tourniquet. He was officially ready. The only thing left was the ritual itself.
Vissie pulled out a long, thin surgeon knife, grinning with sadistic glee.
"No," Mickey said. "I wanna do the ritual myself this time."
"Oh for fu- fine," Vissie said, her smile quickly replaced with dissatisfaction. "You're the boss. Eh. At least I get to watch."
Eldur was starting to feel the effects, the bones and innards hardening in his arm. Magic became matter, dust-matter into solid dragon-scales and tissue. His arm now weighed more than the rest of his body combined.
Is this what humans feel ? Eldur pondered.
Those kinds of thoughts were fleeting indeed, only desperate attempts to calm or lessen his trepidation. His wandering thoughts were the closest thing to a sedative.
All the other warriors stood around the drake in a circle like he was an offering, and proceeded to put on their masks. Only Mickey stepped forth, holding Vissie's knife. It was so thin and pointy it seemed more like a needle.
Eldur was now surrounded by faceless figures. Might as well had replaced his acquaintances.
Mickey came closer, the blade glittering menacingly in his arm and with his dark metal mask on his face showing an expressionless human. As soon as he was in front of him, Mickey gripped Eldur's hand and forced it into an open palm.
"If you're truly worthy to stay among us," Mickey began. "You will show no hesitation."
Eldur examined the thin blade Mickey held hovering above his index finger. The way it glittered from the cavern crystals far above, and foliage glowing blue around. So shiny, so real. Eldur almost thought staring at it would make him forget all that was occurring.
"If you still have any, now is the last time to say them," Mickey continued. "It's not too late to change your mind."
The drake forced his fear to the side and looked Mickey straight in the eyeholes of his mask, only able to imagine the disgusting smile he hid.
"Do it," Eldur said.
" Gladly ," Mickey growled.
And he pierced the top of his index finger. He dug deep inside, pushing through several layers in his finger. For Eldur, the pain was already excruciating, and he shut his eyes.
But that was only the start. The rest that followed brought something the drake would never forget.
Mickey immediately proceeded to carve a line down across the finger. As if to savour it, he carved painfully slow across the finger with great precision of a surgeon.
Eldur finally lost track of everything there. He felt the blade upon his muscles, his veins, felt layers upon layers being flayed off. Once the blade was just above the palm, Mickey cut across. Blood seeped out from the now loose scales, that dangled like the page of an open book.
Eldur winched his teeth shut. Why was Mickey so slow? Wasn't this enough? Why did he keep it going? Was he intentionally prolonging the agony, was he waiting for him to scream?
The drake couldn't do it anymore. He struggled in his bonds. Tears formed in his closed eyes and he grunted and winced, the agony only getting more by the moment. Once he felt the blade impale his bone, Eldur gave out a loud, monstrous howl of pain. The screams echoed across the cavern, perhaps bouncing over all of The Underground like an omen.
But Mickey was only starting. The agony was unbearable, incomparable to anything Eldur had ever experienced. It was like he was carving out the bone of the index finger from the outside .
No, Eldur thought. He knew the Blood-Knuckle. It wasn't like he was carving out the fingerbone. That was precisely what Mickey was doing.
Eldur kept howling. He wanted to do anything, no matter how horrible, anything that could make this living surgery stop. He would pick every blade of grass in The Underground. He would murder every person in the capital. Just make the pain stop!
Eldur could no longer bear to look, only able to imagine the ritual from the pain and sensation. Once he felt Mickey touch his finger-bone and hastily begin to rip it out, his body finally became merciful as his entire nervous system became dull. The drake's vision grew dark, and he felt as if he was going to sleep.
Then, a moment later, it was done. Mickey cut off the rest of the now limp finger, only droplets of blood now remaining to spill out. Once he untied his arm, Eldur quickly slumped down, energyless, on the soft, peaceful grass. Everything was growing dark, and Eldur almost thought he was going blind. But Eldur couldn't care. He couldn't care anymore.
Before he passed out, he saw Mickey standing over him, holding a bloody finger bone in his arm. There came the sound of someone, presumably Simon, close by retching inside the mask, before removing it and puking on the ground. Meanwhile, Mickey stood over the drake, staring from empty, inhuman eyes. They had gone dark, like an inky void.
"Hey, hey," Mickey said reassuringly. "Chin up, big boy. You'll live, ok? You'll live…"
Author's note coming soon...
