Shrignold rolled his head around on his neck, climbing out of Micheal's bed. Hmph. Micheal. What a stupid, awful name. Quite befitting of that moronic child. Did he really think he could get away with it that easily? Did he think he could escape him? No. He never would.

Shrignold swooped his hands around in a circular motion. He considered simply flying away back to the kingdom. But he needed some way to make Micheal pay for what he'd done. He'd need to make sure he never tried a stunt like this again. He needed to...

He walked aimlessly around in the house's kitchen. Modern people kept many sharp objects in there, many deadly things. Perhaps it was to make their lives easier, but that seemed like a poor balance of risk reward. It was a rather foolish idea to him, but it did work out in his favor, at least for this. His finger traced along the countertop and wandered to a drawer at the end. Dancing along, he wrapped his fingers around a handle and pulled it open. Oh how lovely, it was full of weapons, perfect for that carving and stabbing of other creatures thing that lesser life forms loved to do. Shrignold grabbed a knife and flipped it around in his hands. It felt nice. The plastic and metal handle slipped into the crevice his hands formed. It wasn't as comfortable to him as his "personal weapon" but it would do quite nicely.

Hearing footsteps approach, Shrignold eased his head around and narrowed his eyes. One of the two others in the house, those fools that took in Micheal, was stood in the doorway.

"Micheal? What'd you think you're doing with that?" They nervously gestured to the knife resting at his side.

"Micheal's gone I'm afraid," he slowly stepped forward, "And soon you will be too."

"H- hey, quit fucking around!"

Shrignold stopped for a moment, his face scrunching up slightly.

"Excuse me..? What did you just say?"

"I- I-"

"No no, you don't get to speak like that. That's... that's rather improper, especially when addressing a god." Shrignold's face twisted into an annoyed smile. "This is what I don't understand about lesser lifeforms like you and whoever you spoke to in this body earlier. You really think you're all that and speak in such a foul manner. I've met SO many people like you in the past few years, gods is it grating!"

The human stepped backwards anxiously as Shrignold subconsciously walked towards them through the kitchen door. "I- I don't understand!"

"Ah, of course you wouldn't understand." He snapped out of his rant and flashed them a deadly smile. "It really doesn't matter. What's the point in telling you when you'll be dead? You know, I would usually be remorseful about this sort of primitive act of violence. Normally I would have welcomed people like you two into our wonderful kingdom. But I need to teach someone a lesson. And I'm rather sick of this place." Shrignold lunged forward, narrowly missing the human who dodged out of the way. He lodged the knife out of the upholstered chair and hurtled it towards the human again. They rolled out of the way and kicked him in the ribs before sprinting away while screaming in terror.

Shrignold was too fast though, his extreme height let him easily catch up to the human. He grabbed them by the arm and screwed the knife around straight into their skull. He pulled it out of their head and let them topple to the floor, seeking out the object. There was a strange pounding in his vessel's stomach, but he ignored it.

It didn't take long to find the other, as after a few minutes they sprang out from behind a wall and cracked a baseball bat against his free hand. This only gave them a few moments to run as he staggered back. Shrignold pushed through the pain and burst after them. Still, they were almost out the door; he'd lose them at this rate. He stopped in his tracks and threw the knife towards the object. It shot through their hand and pinned them against the wall.

A smile spread across his face. As he stepped on the object, pulling the knife out of their hand and raising it in the air, he asked, "Are you watching Micheal? This is what happens if you don't behave."

...

Micheal's body ached as he forced his eyes open. He'd had the most terrible dream! Wait... why wasn't he in bed? He scanned his surroundings, but it was so terribly dark... and what was that sticky stuff splattered all over him. It smelled like...

Micheal shrieked and threw himself against the wall, hyperventilating.

"No- no no no please no! I didn't- that wasn't- what happened?!"

"I did what had to be done you stupid child," replied Shrignold as he brushed off his shirt. "Maybe you'll learn not to be so inconvenient next time. If you're lucky, maybe Malcolm will let you live."

"No! NO NO NO! No get OUT! GO AWAY! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU SO MUCH!" cried Micheal. His throat grew hoarse from screaming. "STOP TOUCHING ME, GET OUT GET OUT! YOU'RE AWFUL!" He slammed against the wall wildly and scraped at his head.

"OH MY GODS YOU'RE SO ANNOYING! Why do you insist on making me suffer so? Did you not learn a single thing from what just happened?! Fighting back is only going to make things worse you insignificant child!" Shrignold could not understand the logic in Micheal's actions. Did he seriously think he would get something out of this? He tried to pull a smile to mask his irritation and desperately clawed to get his body back.

"NO! NO IT WON'T! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" Micheal spat in retaliation. The two were both equally incensed at the other's offenses.

"I wouldn't try it, what if you just end up killing yourself?" Shrignold wrested his left arm back to himself and reached for the doorpost to stand. "Besides, how do you know I won't try to kill you? I've been awfully nice to you considering the circumstances," he frowned.

Micheal clenched his fists, shivering. "No... ugh, I hate you, I..." he looked at his bloodstained hands.

He curled up on the grassy ground, sobbing into his sleeves. The moon was brilliant and bright, shining down on the now empty seaside abode.

Shrignold didn't care. He whispered into Micheal's ear, "You better make your next move carefully, brat. Although I doubt you'll be able to outwit a god... I already have a plan."

...

"Malcolm do you have a plan?!"

Malcolm snapped out of his stupor at the sound of Shrignold's voice, but the butterfly was nowhere in sight. Ah, he must be in his brain. Long distance call, huh?

"A plan about what? You can't just jump into my head like that, I was watching something on my phone."

"Your what?"

"Nothing, what do you want?" he snapped.

"How. Do I. Get rid. Of the kid?"

"Oh, the little vessel brat? Uh... lemme think about that for a second."

Half a second later, "Okay so you have to kill him if you want to take full control of your body again."

"Well that's all fine and dandy but that will get ME killed too! ...My king."

Malcolm leaned horizontally on his throne. "Well... you could leave his body. Just for a little bit. Then you wouldn't be in their when he dies."

"Yes I suppose so. You can recall me, and then retrieve the body so I can come back. But... how do I kill him fast enough to guarantee it but slow enough that I can escape?"

"Get him to kill himself." Malcolm chuckled. "I thought it was fairly obvious. What's the most common trope related to suicide?"

"What's a trope?"

"Ah right, you're an uncultured swine. Y'know what, whatever. You can figure it out yourself. I don't want to have to spell everything out for you."

"..."

Malcolm's face hardened. "GOT IT?!"

"Y- yes my king! I understand! I'll be on it right away!"

"Wonderful."