"SAY… AHHHHHHH!"
Zac blinked as a gob of necrotic spit and a loose, yellowed tooth launched from the doctor's mouth and landed squarely on his cheek.
"Ahhh," Zac said flatly, wiping the debris away with the back of his hand. His tongue felt like a piece of dry leather that had been left in the sun for a week.
He was sitting on a cold, unforgiving leather inspection bed that smelled of antiseptic and fear. He was wearing a paper hospital gown that was somehow more humiliating than the leopard onesie, mostly because it tore every time he breathed and offered zero protection against the drafty room.
The keep's medical bay was less a place of healing and more a place where injuries were bullied into submission. True to Marchosias's aesthetic, there were no comforting pastels or motivational posters. The walls were lined with racks of surgical instruments that looked suspiciously like interrogation tools, bone saws arranged by size, forceps that looked like crab claws, and jars of leeches that were organized by hunger level. The lighting was harsh and clinical, provided by glowing white crystals that hummed with a headache-inducing frequency. It was a room designed for field repairs on soldiers who didn't have time to bleed, not for treating a boiled human.
The doctor looming over him was a testament to the dangers of DIY biology. He was seven feet tall, green-skinned, and held together by thick, black stitching that looked like it had been done by a blind tailor using fishing line. Two massive bolts protruded from his neck, sparking occasionally. Zac knew that Frankenstein was the name of the doctor and this was the monster, but apparently, his demon roommates hadn't actually read the book.
"THE TONGUE IS BOILED," the monster-doctor shouted, his volume stuck at an eleven. "LIKE A LOBSTER."
Bune stood behind Zac, hovering like a nervous, two-headed helicopter parent. The dragon butler was furiously scribbling notes on a clipboard, muttering a duet of dissatisfaction.
"I cannot leave him alone for five minutes," the Left Head grumbled, adjusting its spectacles. "Not five minutes! I turn my back to fetch a dictionary, and suddenly he is being boiled alive in the caldarium."
"They should know better!" the Right Head hissed, wringing its hands. "The volcanic hot springs are far too intense for a human's delicate epidermis! The tepidarium would have been more than sufficient! Just a gentle steam! A light scrubbing!"
The Left Head paused, leaning in to inspect the back of Zac's neck. "Though I must admit, Halphas did an excellent job with the exfoliation. You are glowing, Zachary. Literally. That red hue is quite vibrant."
"WE MUST AMPUTATE," the Zombie Doctor bellowed, producing a rusty pair of shears from a pocket in his bloodstained lab coat. "THE TONGUE IS COMPROMISED. WE CUT IT OUT."
"No!" Zac squeaked, recoiling on the leather table and clutching his paper gown. "I need that! For... for French things!"
Bune's heads stopped arguing and looked at Zac in confusion.
"French things?" the Right Head asked. "I thought you hated crepes? You called them thin, French disappointment."
"I'm not talking about crepes!" Zac yelled, his voice raspy and painful. "I need my tongue! How else am I supposed to lie to people? Or talk dirty? Or swallow?"
He locked eyes with Bune, giving the dragon a meaningful look. "Imagine if you had your tongues cut off, you'd only be able to do liquid vore!"
Bune's cheeks flushed violet.
"He makes a valid point," the Left Head conceded. "The contract specifies he is a liar. Removing the tongue would breach the terms of service."
"IT WILL ONLY TAKE A SECOND," the doctor roared, revving up a gas-powered hacksaw he had pulled from absolutely nowhere. "HOLD STILL, LITTLE MAN."
Zac scrambled backward, pressing himself against the cold metal cabinets. "Bune! Help! Malpractice suit! Call a lawyer!"
Bune sighed, a sound of profound weariness.
"Really," the Left Head huffed. "Good help is so hard to find."
The dragon butler opened his mouth and exhaled a short, controlled burst of violet fire. The flames washed over the zombie doctor. There was no scream, just a sudden whoosh as the reanimated flesh instantly turned to ash. The hacksaw clattered to the floor, spinning harmlessly, while a pile of dust and two metal neck-bolts settled onto the tiles.
"I thought he was a medical professional," the Left Head sniffed, dusting ash from his lapel.
Bune waved all four of his hands, and the pile of ash was swept away by a sudden spectral wind. "Would you like a second opinion?" the Right Head asked helpfully. "I have many connections in the medical field."
Bune raised his hands, and the stone floor around the examination table began to crack.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Dozens of gray, decaying hands burst from the ground, they were all holding up pieces of parchment.
"Look!" the Right Head pointed. "Board certified! This one has a doctorate in leech bloodletting! That one is a master of Trepanation!"
Zac looked at the forest of zombie hands waving diplomas at him. He didn't scream. He didn't cower.
He jumped off the table.
"Nope! Nope! No!" Zac shouted, stomping on the hands. He crushed fingers and crinkled diplomas with his bare feet. "I am not getting treated by the Addams Family reject pile!"
He stomped the last hand, which was holding a certificate for 'Experimental Lobotomies,' back into the earth.
"I'm fine!" Zac panted, standing in the middle of the room, his paper gown fluttering open in the back. "My tongue is healing! It barely hurts! I just need some aloe! I need lotion! My skin feels like it's two sizes too small!"
Bune crossed all four of his arms over his chest, looking down at the mostly-naked human with a stern expression.
"We all know what you would do with lotion, Zachary," the Left Head scolded.
"And it is not good for your eyesight," the Right Head added solemnly. "You need your vision for spying. We cannot have you going blind from self-abuse."
"THAT'S JUST A MYTH!" Zac yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "I've been doing it since I was twelve and I have 20/20 vision! It helps with stress! It's self-care! Give me the moisturizer, Bune!"
The heavy iron doors of the medbay didn't just open; they exploded inward under an assault of fur and fury.
Zac looked over, expecting another zombie doctor or perhaps a concerned ghost nurse. Instead, he saw Marchosias and Skarg, both wedged tightly in the doorframe, trying to shoulder-check each other out of the way.
"I'll rip off those morons' eyelids!" Marchosias barked, his voice cracking with rage. "How are they literally more stupid than the animals they look like?!"
"I told you I should have been there!" Skarg bellowed, shoving his massive shoulder against the Captain's. "I'm the only one who actually knows how humans function! Did you really think some birds or a fucking feline have any idea how weak and pathetic they are?!"
The stone doorframe groaned, cracked, and then gave up the ghost. Masonry crumbled, and the two raging behemoths stumbled into the room, showering the floor with dust.
Yes, yes, yes, Zac thought, his pain momentarily forgotten as he watched the two alphas storm toward him. They are totally in sync when I'm in trouble. It's so hard to be so fucking loved.
Marchosias and Skarg continued their shoving match all the way across the room, neither willing to let the other reach Zac first.
"Tell me who I'm flaying!" Marchosias howled, his amber eyes wild.
"It was Andras, wasn't it?!" Skarg yelled, his breath frosting in the air. "And Nock! And Halphas! I'll make those three regret falling from grace!"
Zac smiled, his mind wandering far away from the sterile medical bay.
Cue the busines...
The scene shifted. Zac was being led to a fiery stake in the center of a massive wooden amphitheater. The citizens of the kingdom watched in silent weeping as he walked with his head held high.
"I loved you!" Marchosias called from the royal box. He was dressed in gleaming armor, a crown resting on his furry brow, looking every inch the tragic King Arthur.
"But you chose to betray me!"
"I still love you, Wolf Daddy!" Zac yelled up at the kingly wolf. "But when Sir Skarg saved me from the evil angel Malagant, I fell for him too! His lance is just... a lot!"
"You broke my heart!" March shouted, clutching his chest.
Zac put his hands on his hips. "I know I'm your first boy toy since you turned into the Demon King, but come on! Why can't we just have a threesome and high five?"
Suddenly, Skarg burst into the execution grounds, clad in dark, shining armor, his antlers surrounded by a magnificent helm. He was Lancelot, but bigger, hairier, and infinitely more chaotic.
"King Marchosias!" Skarg bellowed, drawing his sword. "The now-not-so-virgin is right! I still wish to serve you as your trusted Knight, but I also can't resist that human bussy!"
"You betrayed me!" March would yell.
"Oh shut up and come down here! Love triangles are completely natural!" Zac said defiantly. "Just because Skarg made me orgasm without my hands before you did doesn't mean I don't want you to knot me!"
March blushed furiously. "But... the purity mission... I mean kingdom!"
"Come now, brave King March," Skarg said, sheathing his sword. "I'll let you have the first round. As your strongest knight, I don't mind sloppy seconds."
Zac was yanked from his Arthurian daydream by Bune pulling him quickly off the exam table.
Just in time. Marchosias and Skarg collided, falling onto the leather table and wrestling for dominance.
"Why are you even here?!" Marchosias growled, pinning Skarg's arm. "I told you you're on probation!"
"We're all on probation!" Skarg yelled back, trying to buck the Captain off. "You don't let us bring booze into your halfway-house keep!"
"THAT'S PROHIBITION, YOU IDIOT!" Marchosias howled.
He opened his mouth and unleashed a blast of silver fire. It missed Skarg by inches, instantly atomically deconstructing the top half of the exam table. Where the wendigo's head had been a second ago, there was now only floating dust.
Skarg roared and tackled Marchosias. They fell off the ruined table and hit the floor hard, rolling around in a ferocious tangle of fur, claws, and armor. It was very violent, very loud, and involved a concerning amount of property damage.
"STOP IT!" Bune shrieked, waving all four arms. "You're ruining the autoclave! That cost a fortune!"
Zac looked up at the dragon butler, completely unfazed by the brawl happening two feet away.
"Hey Bune," Zac said casually. "You wanna go get some dinner? I'm hungry."
Bune's heads snapped down to look at him.
"But of course, Avatar!" the Left Head said, immediately brightening. "If you were hungry, you just needed to tell me!"
"I don't want you getting hurt," the Right Head cooed, ushering Zac toward the door. "Come along now. We can leave the children to their play."
Zac followed Bune out of the medical room, stepping over a stray bone saw. Behind them, Marchosias and Skarg were still fighting, the room flashing with bursts of silver fire and jagged ice, the sounds of their battle echoing down the corridor.