Children of all shapes and sizes gathered around the swing set with high expectations and the will to worship. In the center, was our King, swinging back and forth slowly and thoughtfully on a blue swing. He replayed his plan in his head over and over; several times in the classroom and several times during lunch. He had no commands today. He had no desires. He had a mission. He wanted to give up the royalty and go back to being himself.
"Mr. King, is there anything that you would like today?" Tabitha asked, leaning in towards him.
Milz stood up to his feet and removed the red, paper crown from his head. Without a care, he ripped it in half, the faces of the children morphing from smiles into pure shock. He ripped the crown again. Once more. Another time. And another. He sprinkled the pieces onto the ground and raised his foot. He crushed the pieces beneath his shoe and tilted his head up to Tabitha, his face full of seriousness.
"I want to be left alone."
The kids got the message and left him immediately, understanding that his reign as king was officially over. The zombie sighed to himself, actually feeling relieved. He took his seat back on the swing set and smiled on the inside. It felt good to stand up for yourself. He'd rather be a pleased outcast than a confused ruler.
The rotting toddler took his final trip to the Daydream Palace against his will. The building was falling around him, chunks of marble and concrete lay in ruins, but some parts of the building remained standing. Milz looked down at his clothing to realize that he was wearing his favorite red hoodie and blue jeans. His shoes were missing, but at least he wasn't in that fancy suit and red cape anymore.
The sound of light, shuttered breathing reached his sensitive ears. Even though the source was probably a few feet away, he could still hear it. Human qualities stuck out to him and he could smell nearly everything they had to offer. If a scent was familiar, he could tell who the person was. Even late at night when Dempsey would get up for a late night snack, he could tell it was him. The American's scent was the familiar smell of sweat and probably cheap cologne. Takeo usually smelled of shampoo and other-wordly fresheners. He normally had a candle lit in his room, so the smell would vary. Nikolai dawned the aroma of alcoholic beverages. Richtofen often held the stench of someone's blood or shaving cream.
The problem at this moment was that he couldn't smell this person. He couldn't smell anything. His senses were weakened here and the only thing that seemed to work were his ears and amazing eyes. Milz sped off down the crumbling halls and stepped over glass and sharp pieces of concrete, being sure to be mindful of his lack of footwear. He turned a corner and at the end of the hall lay a helpless, crushed figure.
Underneath a large pile of the rubble from the palace lay a blonde model. She breathed in and out in agony and struggled to crawl from underneath the mess that had crushed her legs and hips. Milz ran to her side as quickly as he could and grabbed one of her arms. The woman jerked away from his grasp and narrowed her shiny yellow eyes at him.
"Don't help me!" Lona huffed. "This is all your fault!"
"Me?" the zombie muttered, pointing to himself.
"Yes, you, fool!" the woman breathed. "You ruined my plans!"
"Plans?" the boy repeated.
"Yes, but don't think that this is over!" the model grouched, her manicured nails clawing at the ground. "I will have my revenge!"
Before Milz could ask what she meant, he awoke in his world to the face of a teacher. The look of concern on her face melted away and he was escorted across the empty playground and back into the school. What did Lona mean by revenge? And just how was she going to get it?