Chapter 28: 28. The Crooked Throne

*Ba-doomp*

Sylvan winced as a blast of pain shot through him, causing his head to pound and his ears to ring.

He had realized before he had tossed Pettibloat, or whatever his name was, through the car… He was still somehow not in top form, despite what he had told Zeff. He was completely healed as far as he could tell. He had lost quite a bit of blood, though, and he felt a bit lightheaded. But only a bit. By any stretch of the imagination he was still far and away stronger than this human flash light, even on his worst day.

The two men had been only fighting for about a minute but the fact that something was wrong was shockingly clear.

*Shoom!* whispered Pettitoad’s fist at it flew toward Sylvan’s chest and *Pawm!* Sylvan caught the punch mid-flight, stopping it just short of his solar plexus.

*Ba-boomp!* Sylvan winced again as his head began to throb with shooting, stabbing pain.

He skipped back a few steps and gathered himself, lifting his arms and bouncing on his toes as his head swam and his vision blurred. ‘What the McGuffin is going on!?’ he asked himself in a panic as he tried to keep his wits about him. ‘This guy hasn’t touched me even once! Yet I—’

Pettismith suddenly threw out one punch after another, each missing Sylvan by several inches or even feet and each kicking the wind into a frenzied dance. However, with each punch that was thrown the pain only worsened in his head until it was nearly unbearable.

With the last punch, Sylvan spun past Pechiclone’s fist, lowering himself into a spinning leg sweep and tripping the man before he even knew what was happening so that he fell hard to the ground on his stomach with a loud grunt.

Trying to buy his time to let his headache subside, Sylvan said, “Look here, Petty-Goat… I’m feeling really merciful this evening. So, here’s what I’ll do. If you stay down, I might just—”

“My name—” growled the officer, interrupting Sylvan, “Is FLORIAN PETTICOAT!” He then, in one swift motion, threw himself off of the ground with a forward lunge, throwing a savage uppercut as he went. *Fwoom!* Sylvan just barely managed to dodge his glowing, yellow fist as it whizzed by his head, just nicking his nose. The touch was so slight that it hardly registered to Sylvan… at first. That is, until Sylvan suddenly felt a wave of nausea cascade over him moving from his nose to his toes like caterpillars crawling under his skin. He, at once, simultaneously jumped back and doubled over, vomiting uncontrollably.

In the next moment, two things happened nearly in the same instant.

First, Sylvan realized what was happening to him. He hadn’t noticed before because he hadn’t been ‘listening’, only ‘looking’.

A rookie mistake.

If Sylvan would have had his ears open, he would have noticed much sooner that every time Petticoat had thrown a punch the sound was far more loud than it should have been. Sylvan could throw a punch so fast that, at his fastest, he could liekly easily strike before the man could react. Petticoat, on the other hand, was nowhere near even half that fast by Sylvan’s most generous estimations. Despite that, each of his punches kicked up wind and made a terrible sound, not just AS he threw it, but also AFTER he threw it. It was as if his punches were… dragging the air, or something else, something invisible that was making Sylvan sick, with them… As though each of his fists were the center, the eye, of a raging hurricane.

This was all undoubtedly a result of the man’s strange glowing. Whatever was causing that, was undoubtedly causing Sylvan’s nausea.

The second thing that happened, was that Petticoat, as fast as he could, had closed the distance while Sylvan was vomiting and took the man by his neck, lifting him into the air with one hand even as spittle and puke fell from Sylvan’s lips.

“Gotcha.” gloated Petticoat. “Now, I’m gonna br-AHHG!”

Sylvan had had enough. With his full strength he had grabbed Petticoat’s arm with his left hand and twisted it free of his neck, bending the man’s hand at an unnatural angle.

“ARGH!! L-Let go!” Petticoat tugged and pulled with all of his might to get his hand free, but to no avail.

“See, here, Pretty-goat.” He emphasized. “That’s quite enough outta you.”

“Shut it, b*stard!” roared Petticoat as he kicked at Sylvan with his left leg.

Sylvan, as quick and graceful as a sparrow in flight and while still holding the man’s hand, simply ducked under the kick, letting Petticoat’s leg fly over his own arm so that it was situated awkwardly between his legs. Then he violently pulled back and up, flipping the man over and slamming him to the ground, never letting go of his hand.

“AHHCH!” grunted Petticoat in pain, laying on his back with Sylvan yet twisting his arm.

“I don’t know what’s got you so worked up. And, frankly, I don’t care. I—”

“You ‘don’t know’?!” Petticoat scoffed and grimaced at the same time. “You just called all human’s cockroaches and now you don’t know what’s got me all worked up?!” As he spoke he began to struggle to his feet, despite Sylvan’s iron grip twisting his arm in directions and in ways that it wasn’t meant to go.

*Pap-POP* protested Petticoat’s shoulder as it was suddenly dislocated, causing him to cry out in pain.

“I won’t rest! I won’t stop—” As he began, his glowing at once began to become noticeably brighter with each passing second. “—until every one of you self-serving b*stards are worm food!” Now he was standing up on his feet completely, his arm rotated more that 180 degrees in the wrong direction, and giving off an unnatural brightness.

‘Whats happening?’ Sylvan thought to himself. But just at that moment something caught his eye. A small tendril of crimson smoke like the arm of an octopus was lapping at Petticoat’s arm.

Just as the tendril touched him, the bright red smoke was divided, splitting itself, into, no longer red, but purple and yellow. The purple smoke simply floated away, dissipating on the wind, while the yellow was being inexplicably absorbed into Petticoat’s body, seemingly increasing his brightness in turn.

Of course Petticoat was too worked up to notice, but, even despite the blinding light, Sylvan could tell as plain as day.

“UaaAHG!” roared Petticoat as he threw a wild uppercut aimed at Sylvan’s chin.

Sylvan, instinctively stepping out of the ‘plane’ of the attack (as to avoid the invisible ‘magic wind’), was subsequently glad that he did.

*FAADAOM!* A blast of wind like nothing Sylvan had ever seen, and even greater in magitude than what he had experienced in the Stranger’s house during Zeff’s first rage, exploded across the bridge as a result of Petticoat’s punch. The gust flew forward at incredible speed, colliding with a few abandoned police cars and some of the unconscious or dead bodies and lifting them of the ground, blowing them away and off of the bridge, into the water below.

‘What in the world!?’ thought Sylvan in the moment that followed. ‘Where is this strength coming fr—?’ He didn’t get to finish the thought as a voice, loud, wild and furious, cried out, “ZAYN!!!”

Suddenly, *Boom!* crimson smoke exploded across the bridge, chasing the white mist of Zeff’s skill away.

‘Oh, no…’ thought Sylvan as, for the first time since he began fighting Petticoat, he was filled with fear.

He was not afraid because of the sudden realization that Zeff was losing control. He was afraid at seeing the crimson smoke, which normally rose from Zeff’s body, gathering around Petticoat like it was attracted to him. Each second the officer shined brighter and brighter, until all Sylvan could see was a halo of purple enveloping a star personified.

*Cihrack!* sighed Petticoat’s arm as it popped back into place as the man gave a grimace and a smile. “Oooh…” he moaned. “I feel…good.”

‘Oh, dear…’ thought Sylvan.

*****

‘Disbelief’ was not an emotion or sensation Zayn was used to feeling. But it was admittedly the only word to describe his present state of mind.

After Corad had yelled his name, sending an explosion of red smoke across the bridge, Zayn had blinked and, next thing he new. He was here in this… world?

The reflective floor beneath his feet was either polished marble or some sort of metal. Protruding from the floor were dozens upon dozens of black veiny poles or beams, all leaning to the side at the same angle, their veins glowing green with life as they pulsated ominously.

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At first glance, the most striking thing was the scene he found just over his head. Galaxies and stars danced about their orbits, painting pictures in the sky.

Zayn’s gift not only allowed him to see into the mind of a person, but he could always tell somehow who’s thoughts it was that he was seeing. It was just a feeling that he had. And he was getting that filling now.

“Zeff!” He called into the sky, “What the h*ll is this?!”

*Kuh-lunge-Ling* came the sound of heavy chains from behind Zayn, accompanied by a low and bestial voice saying, “Zephaniah… He be not hither, little rabbit.”

Zayn turned on his heels to face the origin of the voice and caught his breath.

Sitting before him on a black and crooked throne, surrounded by black rose bushes, was a man who looked uncannily similar to Corad. There were clear differences, however.

Firstly the man had incredibly long, jet-black hair that reach down to his lap and rested in it with length to spare. Secondly, his eyes were red, not saffron like Corad’s. Lastly, and most notably, he had two prominent fangs jutting out from his lower teeth and up over his upper lip, and two horns protruding out from behind his jet-black hair.

On the floor in front of him was another man, a man with a collared-chain around his neck, a man who Zayn at once recognized to be the real Corad. He was sitting crossed-legged on the floor looking listlessly off into the distance as though catatonic. Zayn squinted his eyes to make sure they weren’t deceiving him. The chain that was around Corad’s neck was running up towards the throne and into the hand of the Corad look-alike. But it didn’t stop there. It went further up through his hand until it met a collar that was fastened around the look-alike’s own neck

“That bling looks good on ya, you d*mned lizard!” chuckled Zayn, addressing the man on the throne and instinctively reaching for a gun that (much to his surprise) wasn’t even there.

A low growl rumbled through the world of Corad’s mind.

“Why seeketh thou me, little rabbit.” rumbled the man ignoring Zayn’s taunts. “Willst thou so eagerly embrace thy demise?”

“The only thing I ‘willst’, Rutigorn, is that you embrace dees-nuts!” Zayn jeered with a smirk as he grabbed himself by the seat of his pants.

Rutigorn was at once wide-eyed with surprise, but after a moment he burst out with an uproarious cackle that shook the entire world. “Hahaa! An ape hath ne’er spoken to me in such manner!”

It was not the reaction Zayn was hoping for… He had seen this reaction from himself and especially his own brother when ignorant slabs had challenged him in the past, not knowing what he could do to them. ‘This is only a dream world, right. He can’t do anything to me—’

“Of course, I can, silly rabbit.” came Rutigorn, reading his mind.

Zayn flinched. “H-how did you—?”

“Oblivious and completely unaware!” boomed Rutigorn, laughing again. “Thou knoweth naught, you petty, little fool!”

Zayn clenched his jaw.

Rutigorn went on laughing though his eyes were still intensely disdainful. “No ape hath ever responded to his terror of me in such a way! Seeking me out to prove to themselves that they aren’t afeard at all?! Gloriously amusing, indeed!!”

“I’m not—”

“SILENCE, Little Rabbit! I shall enjoy a good laugh for the first time in ages!” roared Rutigorn, with a dismissive hand wave.

Of course, Zayn had no intention of heeding the dragon’s command. However, as he opened his mouth to speak again, only a shrill ‘squeak’ came out. ‘What the f*ck!’ Zayn looked at himself in the reflection of the floor and was terrified at what he saw. Looking up at him was not the visage of a man, but the reflection of a small, beady-eyed little rabbit. Zayn turned his attention back to Rutigorn and found that the man was many times bigger and taller than he had been only seconds ago, as though he had grown ten times as big.

“Thou amuse me, rabbit. Hence, I shall compose for thee a proposal.” Rutigorn said as he stood from his crooked throne and, like a giant out for a stroll, headed straight towards rabbit-Zayn with his chain clinging and clanging behind him as he went.

Zayn tried to run, upon pure rabitty instinct (and despite his own wishes), but to no avail as Human-Rutigorn snatched him up from the floor by his floppy ears. “Thou art indeed an enigma, rabbit. And I have use of thee.”

Rabbit-Zayn kicked his little rabbit legs in defiance, but there was no escaping the Titans iron grip.

“Thou shall continue to pursue the one in which I’m now imprisoned, but you will not dispatch him. Thou shall torment him, but thou will protect his life.”

‘I will kill him! I swear it! I’ll kill you both.’

Thou shall do no such thing.” Mused Rutigorn with a devilish smile. “For without your powers—” he began to reach toward the rabbits head, his hand glowing an ominous dark purple. “Thou. Art. Nothing.”

Zayn, eyes wide with despair and at once realizing what was about to happen, began to kick and squeak for dear life, but there was nothing he could do as Rutigorn placed his massive hand over rabbit-Zayn’s head.

‘No!!’ Zayn thought, fear like nothing he had felt in years besieging him, ‘NO!!!’

After a moment the giant, huffed, seeming legitimately disappointed, “It would appear, I haven’t the strength to remove thine power as of now…”

Zayn’s little rabbit heart was beating at five thousand beats per second. He hadn’t for a second thought such a thing as having ones gift taken were possible. In all of his travels and exploits, he had never heard of someone with such an ability, not even in the underworld.

“Aha.” Chuckled Rutigorn pulling the rabbit closer to his face. “Art thou realizing what thou truly art? A slab, indeed…”

Zayn was in an instance silenced and stunned by Rutigorn’s biting words as shame washed over him.

Rutigorn then casually tossed the rabbit away like he was throwing away an old banana peel. “I could not take thy power away. Yet, I doeth two things better.” He said as he plopped himself lazily on his throne. In his hand, was a purple orb.

Zayn lifted himself up from the floor and at once realized he was a man again. However, despite that, he was too shaken up at present to say anything. He was defiant, but he was no fool. He knew when he was beaten. ‘It doesn’t matter what this lizard says!’ he thought to himself, his contempt for Rutigorn greater than ever, forgetting that his thoughts were being read. ‘I’ll never do a d*mned thing for him!’

“I know, rabbit. Thou art truly made of stronger stuff than thine forebearer, Leandros…” At that he sighed.

Zayn flinched, both at having had his mind read for the second time and at that last comment. Who was Leandros?

But Rutigorn went on before Zayn could comment. “In mine hand is the memory of the person most precious to thee. Once thou leave this space, thou shall forget them entirely, but…” he said wagging the orb in front of his face like a snow globe, “You shall ever be aware that thou art missing something.”

Zayn was genuinely confused at first, but after a moment an arrogant smile crossed his lips. “There is no one *precious* to me, lizard! I—”

“Ahaha! So unaware. So oblivious! Even to the state of thine very own heart! How, amusing!” Rutigorn ridiculed, throwing his head back in amusement. Then, with a snap of his finger, the world at once began to blur and fade into black. “Know this, little rabbit.” His voice echoed in Zayn’s head. “If you kill my host, you will never enjoy the memory of this person ever again…”

Suddenly, *Fwoosh* sang the evening wind as it blew across Zayn’s face as Zayn found himself back on the highway bridge, Zeff standing before him, his face as stern and grave as a funeral procession.

“Come on, Zayn!” Cried Zeff, “What are you waiting for!”

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