Zac lay still, his eyes fixed on Marchosias. The Wolf Captain was sleeping, the steady rise and fall of his bandaged chest the only movement in the sterile infirmary.
Zac felt a deep, aching pity for the demon. The image of March's ruined, flayed back was burned into Zac's mind. He's been gaslit by the literal creator of the universe into hating himself, Zac thought, his chest tightening. For what? For being too good.
The heavy iron door of the medbay clicked, inching open with surprising quietness.
Bune poked his Left Head through the gap, scanning the room. A second later, the Right Head peeked around the doorframe. Seeing it was safe, the dragon butler slipped inside, gently pulling the door shut behind him.
"Zachary," Bune whispered, his Left Head turning to face the bed. "It is good to see you are awake. Are you feeling alright?"
"Is March okay?" Zac whispered back instantly, pushing himself up onto his elbows.
Bune looked between Zac and the unconscious Wolf Captain. A soft, fond smile touched the dragon's features. "It looks like he is sleeping soundly for once. He used an immense amount of his demonic mana. He will be out for a while."
"That's good," Zac said, his gaze drifting back to the sleeping wolf. "He saved me. He saved us all."
Bune padded silently across the tiled floor and took a seat on the edge of Zac's cot. "Can you tell me what happened out there?" the Right Head asked softly.
Zac nodded. He shifted on the crinkly paper of the exam table and began to recount the battle on the ridge.
At first, the story was fairly accurate. He described the terrifying, featureless angel construct, the sudden attack, and the initial charge of the warband. But as Zac got going, the narrative slowly began to shift. He added in a few dramatic monologues for Marchosias that definitely hadn't happened. He described the Captain striking heroic poses amidst the explosions. He even threw in a prolonged, anime-style power beam struggle between March's silver fire and REPENTANCE's holy light.
By the end of the story, Zac had Marchosias yelling for fifteen solid minutes while flexing his muscles to unlock a secret "Super Demon" power-up, culminating in the badass, blood-raining halo that allowed him to rip the simulacrum's head off with his bare hands.
Bune sat enraptured, all four of his golden eyes wide, staring at the sleeping wolf with awe. "That is quite amazing," the Left Head breathed. "The others never tell me about how the Captain fights."
Zac stretched, his joints popping as he swung his legs over the side of the cot. "We should go so we don't wake him up. I can tell you all about the Angel Balls somewhere else."
Bune immediately began fussing over him, multiple hands reaching out to check his temperature and pulse. "You have experienced a traumatic battle! You should rest more! You can tell me all about... wait. Angel Balls? What are those?"
"Oh, just something that grants wishes when you collect all seven," Zac said, waving a hand dismissively. "But I feel fine. I just need some food and maybe a massage."
Bune looked skeptical, his Right Head tilting. "A... butt massage?" he questioned cautiously.
Zac looked up at the dragon coyly, a playful smirk touching his lips. "Just a regular massage... but if you're offering."
Bune's heads both gave a soft smile. "It seems that you have not lost your mind due to PTSD. That is good."
"PTSD stains terribly," the Right Head added.
"Why would I get PTSD?" Zac asked. "I'm not afraid of dying. Or anything else, I guess, since I'm already dead."
Bune shrugged a tailored shoulder. "The dying part usually isn't that bad. It is the unimaginable pain and suffering just before the dying that most people fear."
Before Zac could fully appreciate that he could still very much feel unimaginable pain and suffering, the door blew open.
Skarg lumbered in. But it wasn't Skarg as Zac had known him.
Zac did a double-take. He was no longer the hulking, frozen wendigo wrapped in a perpetual blizzard. Now, he was a tall, elegant deer-man. His muscles were lean and toned rather than bulging, covered in soft, short autumnal-brown fur. Smooth, sweeping antlers adorned his head, and trailing behind him was a tail made of pure, dancing fire. He looked refined and… dare Zac say… beautiful.
"March stole my glory!" Skarg immediately yelled, his voice still the same gravelly, brutish bellow despite his ethereal new appearance. "If the wolf hadn't cut in, I would have been the one who saved Zac!"
Bune stood up quickly, raising a hand in a shushing motion. "Quiet down!" he whisper-yelled. "The Captain is sleeping! Do you have no class?"
"Oh, lick my ass," the beautiful deer demon growled. "You weren't even there because you're a massive weenie. Why don't you go sweep the ceilings or something?"
Bune looked instantly alarmed. "Why?! Did you break the ceiling again?!"
BAM.
The door slammed open loudly once more, and Nock burst in, weeping loudly. "Zachary is alright! He is still as pure as the first flower of spring before it is molested by the passing whimsy of a deviant bumble bee!"
Zac leaned over to look past Bune and Skarg, who were now grappling near the foot of the bed.
Nock was wearing a deep purple smoking jacket and a large fedora with a single, wilted rose tucked into the band. He looked terribly grey, the golden luster completely gone from his fur, and his jagged scars showed starkly even though his hat was tilted down in an attempt to hide his face.
Bune managed to toss the surprisingly lightweight Skarg to the ground with a grunt, before rushing up to Nock. "Stop crying so loudly!" the dragon hissed, pointing frantically at the sleeping Captain.
Skarg pushed himself up, dusting off his soft brown fur with a scowl. "The lion did less to save the Avatar than the fucking turtle."
Nock's wailing cut off instantly. He let out a sharp hiss at the deer. The lion and the deer stepped into each other's space, getting right in each other's faces and shouting about who had been the most heroic and whose fault it was that they had been bodied by the simulacrum.
The door opened again, and Halphas strutted in. But he wasn't wearing his usual crisp military uniform or his tight tank tops. He was wearing a big, baggy gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled low over his face. Zac noticed his beak looked different… less sharp and eagle-like, more short and... pigeon-y.
Halphas laughed, walking over and rubbing Zac's shoulder. "You did a good job surviving your first battle, kid."
Zac leaned into the touch, looking up at the Earl of Violence. "Do I get a medal for my bravery?"
Halphas snorted, a softer sound than his usual sharp bark. "A medal for not dying? Are you really that deluded?"
Zac nodded enthusiastically. "If you don't have a medal for me, you can still prick me with your pin."
Halphas grinned, his beak clicking softly. "How about I just stop calling you 'new guy'?"
Before Zac could say that he would much rather get Halphas's big pigeon prick instead, a smoky, detached laugh echoed from the doorway.
Andras leaned against the frame, twirling a cigarillo between his talons. "You're all fools. None of you did any real damage to the simulacrum."
The room erupted.
"You ran away, you coward!" Nock yelled, his scarred face twisting in fury.
"I had it pinned!" Skarg bellowed, his fiery tail flaring.
"My rockets were the only thing slowing it down!" Halphas squawked indignantly, pulling his hood tighter around his face.
Andras just smirked and lazily drew his cutlass, letting the enchanted steel catch the harsh light of the medbay. "I broke the simulacrum's wing after you idiots all got one-shot."
Bune had finally had enough. With a wet, tearing sound, his third head popped out of his shoulder.
"THE CAPTAIN IS SLEEPING!" the middle head screamed, spit flying across the room. "IF YOU'RE NOT QUIET, I'LL RIP OUT YOUR TONGUES AND FEED THEM BACK TO YOU!"
The others went dead quiet, staring at the furious, drooling dragon head.
Bune coughed politely. His left head reached up to try and hold together his torn collar. "Finally. Now, if you all please, take your rabble out of the room so Marchosias can sleep."
"I'm awake now," Marchosias grumbled from his bed.