V Dear Diary:

[Malloki Tuwile]

“Dear diary. I had a smoking hot date today. Sparks flying everywhere! I swear, we had some real chemistry, you could almost smell it in the air. It wasn’t all sunshine and daisies though. She really knew how to grind gears at times, but I got the sense she was pretty reliable. At least, until the end of the date. She promised to bring me home, but when it came down to it… She fell short. Ahh, well. I guess that’s just my luck. That’s all for now, Tahtah!”

The internal monologue of one Malloki Tuwile was spoken to no one in particular. It was a means of catharsis to the stitched up puddle of thoughts one could vaguely call a mind.

All around the man, hell had broken loose. He sat in the pilot seat of a small interplanetary vessel. The hulking mass of metal was little more than a ball with numerous gears inside and out, twisting in a myriad dance of clockwork engineering. One massive thruster puttered at the rear and a small window allowed the pilot to see the planet rushing upwards to greet him behind a wall of red-hot air friction.

The smell of fuel and byproduct burned at Malloki’s nostrils, as gears ground and sparked when their neighbors failed to turn them. Slamming into Opealon’s atmosphere had set into motion a chain of events, and with Malloki’s ‘hit it with a hammer’ tendency to fix the box of bolts, the situation had only grown worse.

He had been on the run for so long; visited quite a few different planets on this old rusty piece of junk, and maybe even broken a few hearts along the way. All that would come to an end soon in one final spine-tingling crash. If he had to go out, it might as well be in a fiery---

“Dear diary! Followup. She came back for me! She really does care, how sweet!”

With a heavy grunt, the man fought the G-forces to reach out and grab a lever just below the newly flashing red light. Right beside said light had the worn picture of a parachute. In hindsight, he probably should have taken note of that earlier.

CLANG! “I don’t think there will be a second date. I hear she’s going through a terrible breakup.” The sight of one of the front heat-ablating panels flying over his windshield was a bit worrying, considering he could feel the far-less protective flooring beneath his bare toes grow hotter and hotter. Reentry was shredding this poor machine to bits.

His fingers twitched on the lever. Too soon and the speed and friction would burn away his chute and probably him in the process. Too late, and well… Splat. Of course, that left him with plenty of time to ---

“Dear diary. Fuck.” Far earlier than he desired, he yanked on the lever. He had heard of this world’s lush oceans and beautiful floating islands. What he did not expect was the islands to be floating in the damn SKY!

The series of explosions that blew away the top of the small vessel was startling, but not nearly as much as the following rush of wind and heat that entered when the panel vanished into the distance. The depressurizing cabin and heat subsequently were less scary than the explosion beneath his seat that shot him out right after the lost panel.

That, in turn, was nothing compared to the hard clicking at the back of his seat. The smaller mass of him plus the chair meant the air friction quickly decelerated his descent. For only a few seconds did he experience the pressurized air burning at his flesh. Not quite as scary as plummeting towards a floating island while being unable to take a breath and hearing the ominous clicking of a rickety old chute trying to deploy.

Click.

Click.

Click….

That’s not good. When the clicking stopped, he could only assume the chute had failed.

The charred man had already healed from the wind burns, but he had no doubt impact would leave him more as fingerpaint across the sky-land. So he did what any sane man would do. His hands fought the torrent of air to unzip his trousers to see what would happen if you pissed during freefall. Answer; a mess.

FWOOSHHH

And suddenly he regretting the decision to drop-trou at terminal velocity. The man was, for lack of a better term, pissed on rather than pissed off. There was sage wisdom in that turn of phrase because he would have much rather been mad than used the near-death experiment to test water physics.

ThuCRUNCH!

The landing was not soft in the slightest. Given time, it would have been as soft as a feather’s fall. With time was not available, Malloki’s chair landed, tipped violently forward, and slammed his unprotected face into the dirt to skid several feet. His nose, jaw, left eye socket and several vertebrae cracked under the impact.

“Kekekekeke…” The raspy giggle came with a bubble of blood and dirt. The pain left him momentarily immobilized as if he had just lost a tickle fight. One that also may have left both arms out of their sockets. While his healing factor was nice, it was not that nice.

“Dear diary. I thought I was the one doing the dumping… but that clever girl may have dumped me instead. I feel like a broken man. Maybe I should have stayed with her. Sounds like she’s--”

KSH-BOOM! “Nevermind, she sounds like a total wreck.”

A sickening crunch announced the tickling numbness of his left shoulder had been dislocated upon impact. The slightly delayed, but near-instant means of healing made the unknown problem an idle thought of the past, as it was quickly popped back into the socket. “Kekeke!” Of course, the blinding pain brought out a maddened giggle from the living voodoo doll.

His right arm was still numb, but he imagined it was more his weight pressed on it than anything. The reinforced pilot chair had the masochist pinned heavily to the blood-stained dirt beneath him. The struggle to unbuckle himself one-handed was real, but the effort it took to roll over with that seat atop him was an effort and a half. Such a pain. Usually, a fan of pain as of late, this turn of phrase was a pain Malloki could not laugh off. Hard work.

When the chair finally thumped to the ground, the rotational force yanked Malloki on top of it as it continued to roll onto its back and then fling to an upright position. With the center of mass once again under his rear, the jostled Malloki let out a sigh of relief.

Wait.

“FUCK.” From the seated position, the island hovering not too far off and just below his current location came into view. The man looked to the rest of the island behind him to confirm. “FUCK!” he echoed.

He had apparently landed on an expansive island covered by wheat and various other crops. On the other island? A damn village.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The turn of events leaving Malloki on the farm-island was annoying. The selection of crops was even more infuriating. Wheat, potatoes, tomatoes, hot peppers, and cabbages were the primary crops dominating the large floating isle, with but a single apple tree in the island’s epicenter. He had taken to plucking one of the small green apples and sank his teeth in without a second thought.

Crab apples. Sour, hard, teeth-shattering, one bite was all it took. His next target for lunch was something softer and far more palatable - a freshly plucked-from-the-earth potato. As Malloki strode through the farmland, crunching through the raw starchy potato, he glowered at the devil of fruits, the tomatoes. Of all the islands for him to be trapped on, why one with such a disgusting plant?

After the lump of potato drops like lead into his stomach, the man quickly realized an oddity among the farmland. At first, he had not thought much of it considering the scrap memories of his home. With the oddly sweet potato held firmly in the maw, his brow furrowed as he looked upon at a machine sitting in the field furthest from his landing point. The blade on a long piston-held arm that hung from the back looked odd, but Malloki could pick up on its purpose.

“Huh. Neat.” The thought was spoken aloud, potato dropping from his mouth. A brief moment of contemplation alongside a sly glance about his surroundings later, mischief filled his eyes. “Don’t mind if I do!” Malloki dashed over to the plow with a skip to his step and a delighted grin.

There was no cabin cover. He noticed the issue immediately but shrugged it off. It seemed to be a purely terrestrial vehicle. For his intents, it would do fine. The keys were still in the ignition and quickly the engine was coaxed to life. “HAHA! She LIVES!”

A knob was thrown into gear and his foot slammed a rustic looking pedal to the floor. The machine jumped to life but the little jolt was all that it had. The tractor chugged along at a brisk walking pace at best.

The grin that Malloki wore slowly faded to a grimace. “Are. You. KIDDING ME?!” The tractor rolled leisurely back to the landing site. It seemed unable to pick up any speed and that was a big issue. “Go! Get ‘em, Bessy! Yip yip! ONWARD!” The impatient driver bounced in his seat like a five-year-old as he coaxed the machine in vain.

He stomped the pedal a few more times earning little more than a stop-and-go jolting. When he took to wiggling the shifter, a grinding rang out before the tractor jolted once again into a higher gear. Sure enough, he was flying now! Not really, but it was a solid running pace. Still, “Really? You’re playing with my emotions here, you know that?”

Progress was made but not enough. Again, he pulled on the ball-topped stick to see what the next gear held. He braced forward, expecting a surge of speed. Before he could blink, Malloki was on his back on the ground as the tractor rolled in the opposite direction. Eyes wide, breath knocked clean from his lungs, he just stared at the single cloud in the sea of blue.

“Dear Diary: It’s been too long. How are you? That’s good. Oh, I’ve been well… but I have this nagging feeling that I’m being made a fool of. The dating scene is hard. One chick blew up on me, and the other just backed out right out from under me.” His gaze rose-fell, drifting upward from his prone position to lock onto the upside-down tractor as it lazily rolled backward. “Jokes on her though. Running from me is a slippery slope that goes nowhere but down.”

His spoken-diary narrated exactly what Malloki watched. The tractor rolled backward right off of the edge of the island. It took a few long moments before the faintest splash could be heard from far below. One hell of a drop! Probably best to stay topside!

With a final huff of defeat, Malloki rolled onto his feet and made his way back to the ejection chair for a seat. It had the best view of the village-like construction on the nearby island. He had planned to ramp across on the tractor, but the lacking speed made the thought pretty much suicidal - and not in a good way.

He stared impatiently. Sooner or later, someone would HAVE to come out, right?

Hold up. His gaze followed a trail from the post-modern looking village to a trail that ran towards the edge. Only once his first plan ended in cataclysmic failure did the unhinged mind of Malloki take a moment to stop and realize one major plot point. That was a village. This is a farm. How did they…..

“Are you SHITTING ME?” His hands flung in the direction of the path that ended promptly in a steel-reinforced bridge. Sure enough, it connected the islands, probably fastening them together to keep their drifting minimal relative to one another. “When did they have time to build that? I’ve been here for like twenty minutes!”

Because he refused to admit he had missed such a piece of architecture.

He refused to admit he had attempted to drive a tractor across a fifty-foot gap with a twenty-foot drop instead of looking for the way said tractor had made it across in the first place.

Above all, Malloki refused to admit that his plan was a bad one when it had the promise to be so much fun!

Ah, well…

“Dear Diary: It seems I’m moving up in the world. Not in a straight line like an elevator, seems I’m stuck on an escalator. Probably a broken one… Would that be steps? Yes, the broken escalator-steps of life. Maybe Life needs a new maintenance man.” He paused at that thought. “Or maybe a life-coach to build up some sick calves and glutes. Get that stair-master game on. Tack on some epic punchy music and that sounds like a sick movie.”

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The walk to the bridge was uneventfully filled with broken thoughts and picking uncooked potato chunks out of his teeth. Malloki’s casual stroll gave the man time to think about his life, namely his future. This planet is not what he expected. The presence of civilization and technology felt comforting, but the danger of falling off was… uncomfortable.

No doubt the fall and splash would be a world of fun but getting back up? It could be an issue. From the vantage point and the many pauses made to peer down, he could not spot anything beneath. This lack of reference made it nigh impossible to determine actually how far down the ocean was. It could be just out of finger’s reach, or it could be miles to the ocean surface.

In the end, Malloki chose the path of least resistance. Coming to the bridge of segmented steel and mechanical bits, he had to stop and admire the beauty of the construction. The bridge bowed and flexed ever so slightly as if keeping the two islands at a distance without overstretching. It looked quite ingenious and he would have loved to dismantle it. Not to investigate, he just wanted to see how many pieces he could break it into.

Bet its more than ten thousand in bolts alone.

The sound of his steps reverberating along the steel was not as pronounced as he had expected and he had not even expected that much. The semi-flexible blacktop coverage between the two islands was almost like any other road save for its gentle sway. Of course, Malloki jumped several times to see if he could rock the bridge. It gave no shits about his puny attempts. Pfft, no fun! Why’s there never some rickety rope bridge? A crumbling stone bridge would be just fine! Damn safety-inclined architects. With the potential for a wild experience dashed, Malloki was forced to continue across the bridge.

The little ergonomic village was not a far distance from the bridge’s anchoring. The path here was well maintained and seemed to be frequently used. In fact, the tractor appeared to have been stopped in the middle of the field too. Where is everyone? The new perspective on the “village” revealed it to be something more along the line of a number of apartment buildings with sleek exteriors.

Of course, Malloki would never live in such a place. The bottom floors of the two or three-story buildings looked to be shops while those above were more than likely homes. The buildings were a fair bit larger now that he was standing in between them. Funny how perspective really alters one mind. Village might have been too modest, this was at least a small town with a more vertical focus than sprawling acreage.

Inside the village-city proper though, life became more visible. There were windows into the lower floor shops and people were crowded within. Some were going about their day, but most were peering out into the empty street. They were staring at Malloki.

Cautious. Weary. Judgemental. These were the eyes of townsfolk preparing to bring the fires of hell or run like they had frozen over. Something scared them… What could do that?

Six tons of grinding gears, an octo-booster malfunctioning, and ablative plates obliterating upon reentry, maybe? Naaaah!

As the eyes followed him, Malloki did what any visitor would do in a situation like this. With careful scanning of the cityscape surrounding him, he formulated a plan of attack and defense. He started looking for exit routes, potential weapons, high vantage---

“I’ll have a strawberry-lemon blast Fro-Yo, my good sir!” There was a moment that even Malloki blinked in surprise. The transition from street to one of the crowded shops was sudden with only the faintest memory of a Fro-Yo sign that helped fill in the gaps. The man behind the counter did not move for a long moment. The others that were packed into the small store were equally still.

Finally, a burly man lingering near the front spoke up. “Are you th’ one that rode in on that metal deathtrap?” Malloki, having plopped onto a barstool in preparation for a frozen treat, hooked his hands under the bar and leaned back. Peering upside down at the man, it was not hard to tell he had just dipped into the store for shelter.

“Ye! T’was I that rodeth upon a steed of steel! Till flame doomed it to a watery grave.” The Shakespearean twist came from seemingly nowhere, with one hand unhooking from the bar to rest across his brow. As if any would confuse this unhinged man for one faint of heart. “Was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” The dropped tone came with an ego-bearing grin. He did not need confirmation, he already knew it was ‘pretty cool.’

The man did not seem too amused by the man’s antics. The unshaven, unhinged stranger was a thrifter in the eyes of a simple islander. The crude ship and the so-called watery grave were good examples of the outsider’s carelessness. It could have just as easily landed on the village or the farm island, or the bridge in between. “Ya almost cause a lot of damage, boy. We were about to go hunt’n for ya.”

“Oh? Where here I am!” Thump. He had released the bar, leaving himself to fall to the hardwood floor in all his vulnerable glory. “What are ya gonna do with me, big boy? Curb stomp my head into the floor? Burn me at the stake? Oooh, maybe chop off my hands! - Wait, that’s for theft. What’s the punishment for nearly destroying a town with a cog-ship? Oooh, I hope it hurts!”

A few faces were still stern. Many of the onlookers had gone pale-faced and wide-eyed. As Malloki rolled over onto his feet, teeth flashing in the gayest little grin. “Come on then! Justice!” The Living Voodoo threw his fist into the air to try and cheer on the crowd. Mob Mentality was bullshit and this proved it. Here he was, ready to accept any cruel form of justice they had and what did they do?

They looked on in an odd admixture of confusion and horror. What kind of man gets excited about being dismembered or burned to death. “So… Anyone mind spotting me for a Fro-Yo? Left my wallet on the ship.”

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

No one stepped forward to offer the stranger a free frozen yogurt. The very notion of such terrible hosts left Malloki a bitter guest. “If I knew you guys were just going to gawk, I would’ve gone over the edge with that land-cutter vehicle.” A few people echoed the weird descriptive name as if trying to figure out what vehicle cuts land.

“MY TRACTOR!” One of the previously silent tenants dashed from his table and out the door. The lanky fellow in a sleeveless red plaid shirt looked about right to be sitting atop that machine. The tanned, leathery hide was almost like a crocodile’s skin from the brief glance Malloki could get of it.

With the object in question identified, the air in that little Fro-Yo shop became colder than the air-conditioner could ever hope for.

“First ya nearly wreck the town with yer ship. Then ya drive our only damned tractor over the edge. What kinda sick monster are ya?”

“The kind that you neeeever expect, and can neeeever escape!” The giggle and disarming smile that followed could chill bones faster than liquid nitrogen. “I’m the monster that lurks within everyone. The anger, the aggression, that fear that makes you lash out.”

“I am only as much a monster as the people in this room… and I can already tell, you folk are the real nightmare.” It was the giggle that followed which acted as the ignition to the fuel Malloki had applied. His childish little giggle enraged one of the non-vocals into action.

As this young man threw back the stool he had been sitting in and stomped towards Malloki, he tried his damndest to be threatening. “Stop laughing, asshole! I’m going to wipe that smile off your fucking FACE!” And with the final word more a grunt, the newcomer threw a clumsy right hook towards Malloki.

The quick ripple of flesh as bare knuckles bludgeon and cut his cheek sent a wave of nostalgic delight through the masochistic man. He could feel the heat rush a brief second after the impact before the process of swelling simply stopped. The cut had time to offer but a drop of blood before it sealed. All this before Malloki tumbled back onto the floor.

“YES! Haaa, that’s JUST what I needed! You got anymore where that came from? You’re DEFINITELY going in my diary!”



On the flip side of this maddening coin, the aggressive man barely out of his teens stared down at his fist. He had struck hard enough that his birdie knuckle had cut the man’s cheek open leaving a hint of red. Yet, no cut remained on this outsider. No bruise, no nothing, just a grin. The cut was on his face!

His fist remained closed and his arm pulled back. Stop it! His muscles would not oblige. Why? No! Not again! He watched his own hand once again make contact with the outsider. Once again, the wound was there for a moment but gone the next. Instead, he felt warmth rush to his right jaw, exactly where he had hit this monster.

His left hand drew back for another strike as the right moved in to grab the man’s shaggy hair. He did not want to keep this stranger from running, and the man did not look as if he were going to run but his hands were moving all their own. He could see the lips of the outsider move, but he could not focus on anything but striking him… again and again and again.

There was no stopping. No end. When his eyes had swollen shut, he relied on the hand pulling the outsider’s hair to guide his fist to their place. His ears began to ring and swell. Teeth shattered and filled his mouth.

Only when consciousness was lost could he stop. When the cold floor rose to meet him, the only thing he could hear beyond the blood pounding through his head was the laughter of the unscathed monster.



Malloki accepted the mixture of quick jabs and powerful hooks from the south-paw. When his head was held in place for more punishment he just cackled in delight. “Ow, oh OW! Kekekeke, you’re killing me! He’s gonna KILL ME! Haahahahaaaaa!” Horror spread throughout that little shop as two things became evident.

This outsider was utterly unharmed. Meanwhile, the civilian that had taken action was quickly accumulating injuries left and right. His eyes had swollen closed, his bottom lip had been cut open and swollen, leaving blood and bits of teeth to dribble out of just the corner of his mouth. A rogue punch that should have torn Malloki’s ear instead left the attacker’s own hanging by a scrap of thin flesh.

Thump.

The fight ended long after it should. There was no rhyme or reason one of their own would keep attacking in this situation. When magic was at play.

“Dear Diary: I made a new friend today. He was real good with his hands. I doubt he’s licensed for it, but he would be a damn good masseuse! Really reached in deep and got all those sore spots out.” Malloki’s dissassociated entry regained the attention of a majority of the crowd. While one of their own bad seemingly beat himself unconscious, the would-be victim was taunting.

The malicious eyes of Malloki had already moved past those present. He doubted they would join in with their current level of fear. There was no more fun to be had inside. “Maybe he can refer me to a friend? Someone with bigger hands… maybe one of those massage wands?” The Living Voodoo slowly walked towards the door. He stepped over the trembling body of his first victim and parted the crowd with nothing more than presence.

By the time the man had left the building, it was too late. The shocked citizens realized who this friend was, and some even guessed what was meant by ‘massage wand.’

The farmer had returned, At the speed he ran and the way he carried a massive wrench, he clearly sought blood for the loss of his tractor. In a cacophony of warnings, nothing rang out more than the wrench across the skull of the invader.

Though both heads jolted to one side, it was the farmer’s eye that hung from its socket, and his nose that gushed blood. The raggedy man was once again unscathed. So why did the farmer strike again?

And again.

No longer was it just the citizens of the Fro-Yo; many of the surrounding buildings bore witness to this brutal monstrosity. Each time Malloki was struck, he laughed and giggled and squealed with delight. The farmer cried out in pain. At one point he had tried to kneecap the invader, only to find himself on the ground.

The invader never lifted a finger. He only spoke to himself in between heavy blows.

“Oh Diary, I’m glad I found this place! I forgot how good it felt to be around people! Ever since the Good Doctor passed, I’ve been so lonely…” Malloki kneeled next to the farmer. Though the man struggled to stand, every movement was an attempted swipe at the voodoo man. He only caressed the swollen, cut cheek of the poor hexed soul. “No one plays with me like the Good Doctor did. They always give up so early…”

“Maybe one day I’ll find someone as nice as the Good Doctor… I miss playtime…” The farmer, much like the man-child in the shop, loses consciousness. They were the luckier playmates. If it was not a forced sleep, it was death that ended playtime.

“Poor guy. He’s all tuckered out…”

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The streets remained empty. Malloki felt the eyes of so many bore into his flesh. Many leered at the obviously magical being. Other gazes were wide with fear. Some held worry for the victim(s) that had already fallen prey to this mad man. While there was a mixture of emotions and reasons for each gaze, each one rested upon Malloki without exception. The farmer upon the ground was not second to the unhinged man’s next course of action.

For a while, he just stood there. Malloki’s train of thought derailed again and again as he stared into space.

What do I do now?

I wish the Good Doctor was here.​

So bored!​

Why won’t anyone come out and play with me?​

I’m hungry.

So very hungry…​

Hunger was a driving factor. All that healing had taken a toll and the meal of crab apple and raw potato did little to prepare him for playtime. When the world snapped back into place and his eyes regained focus, Malloki took a renewed look over the buildings of the tall-but-small village.

Fro-yo was the closest option, but not quite as hardy as he needed. Across the street was a shopping center for clothes, nothing that he needed right now. Down the way was a little barbershop… he would come back to that. Across the street from that one was what looked to be an antiques shop. Useless.

Zig-zagging his attention down the street, the man eventually had to walk along to read the signs. Each step he took closer had fearful or cautious citizens moving away from the glass that separated them from this magical monstrosity. If he noticed, no one else would be able to tell. With his focus dedicated to finding a hot and hearty meal, Malloki basically saw the world through tunnel-vision.

Numerous eyes took note of the red dot that had appeared upon the invader’s chest. It swayed as the sniper tried to zero in on something vital. The silence of the street filled with a wave of bloodlust, fear, and anticipation. The longer that red dot lingered, the more it swayed. In a far building, the sniper was losing her nerve.

She took one final breath and held it to steel her resolve. She slowly squeezed the trigger. She carefully kept her aim. She held that last breath, unknowing it would be her last.

The loud BANG that tore through the silence of the empty street was met immediately by the tearing of flesh. Malloki was thrown backward as his chest imploded and back exploded in a shower of blood, bone shards, and lung tissue. He had been inhaling which had instantly been stopped with the utter ruining of his left lung.

The monster exhaled a sigh of relief and slowly rose to his feet. The holier-than-thou shirt was torn the rest of the way off. Sticky blood was starting to make his skin itch. He continued down the street like nothing happened.

In a far room, blood dripped from the wall, and ivory shrapnel gave a new texture to the freshly painted drywall. The sniper had a brief view of her new accommodations as she laid upon the ground, exhaling the breath she had held. She could not take another. The sloshing of blood in her lungs trickled up her trachea and pooled in her mouth.

Why? Why did she still grip her rifle? Why did her body force itself up? She could not even breathe, but once again she was perching at the open window. The world was slowly blurring and her body trembled as oxygen ran thin and blood gushed from her wound and mouth. Why did she take aim again?

Malloki’s gaze drifted to the sound of clattering a few buildings down. The gun laying upon the ground was speckled red, and a matching shade had streamed from a window three stories up.

“Huh… Must have been the wind... Oh, looky, looky! Sushi!"

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The sushi bar was similar in design to the Fro-Yo shop as Malloki neared. It had a full glass front wall with systematic supports of some sleek white material. Inside was a bar, shockingly similar to that of the previous store revealing an uninspired overall architecture to the "quaint" little town. The door even had the same bell jingle as he entered, not what he expected from a sushi vendor.

Nevertheless, Malloki approached the bar and plopped onto a high stool. No menu was offered. Once again was he the target of many glaring eyes. In this instant, the Living Voodoo began wondering if he would ever eat again.

Having seen the man take the heavy blows of a large wrench and shrug off a large caliber gunshot wound to the chest with not even a scar to show for it was terrifying. High-powered armor doing such things was understandable, maybe some form of healing nanites was another. He had neither, because there was no way either would reflect damage so perfectly as this man had.

This outsider was magical. Magic is bad. The dwellers below often used it, and they are nothing more than savages on the open seas. The man that sat among them was worse than those below. He killed without lifting a finger and giggling all the while. This creature is a monster in a human suit.

As the damning mindset ran wild through the restaurant, Malloki rose to his feet once again. A sigh left his lips. "You guys don't like me much do you?"

The question seemed to have the crowd taken aback. Of all the things for a monster to say, hardly had anyone expected this thing to care what they thought of it. Mob mentality needed no words though. To those who were shocked, the words brought about a similar revelation. The monster was either sly or becoming agitated.

The chef was inclined to thing the latter. With a swift stride to the backside of the bar, a menu was placed upon the counter. He fell into the role of a gracious host and server with a cold sweat across his brow. He feared this man and what would happen if he did not have his way. "Nonsense. We are just... cautious... Please. as a token of our hospitality, your meal is on the house!" There was a moment before he added; "within reason, of course."

Within reason made it sound more realistic at least. Malloki glanced down at the menu. The chef was not a great actor, but Malloki was on the denser side. He sat back down and took up the paper, buying into the act hook line and sinker.

"The uramaki sounds good, especially with a side of fried dumplings." And as civil as any other, he handed the menu back with a smile. "Hot chamomile tea, please. Sugar and honey please."

If the silence spoke volumes before, now it screamed. Had the outsider's burned coat not had a shredded hole marking a bullet's exit wound he might have passed as a humble homeless man rather than a psychotic monstrosity of magic. The civil contrast compared to the fresh memory of two dead neighbors had a ripple effect.

Technically, he had not lifted a finger against anyone. Those of this particular shop only saw the man go out into the street to be immediately attacked. This was an emotional roller coaster. The magical creature was still an abomination, but it was not flaunting magic necessarily. Technically it was all in self defense.

One whispered to another. They whispered back. More whispers joined in before the sound of hushed voices clashed and volume rose to be heard over one another. Soon enough, split parties had taken to yelling. Some feared this creature was just acting civil while others believed he was just shined in bad light.

Why would people side with a creature like Malloki? Simple. That shambled beard and long, unkempt hair showed days without a decent shower. The tattered clothing looked similarly dirty, while being so worn that a strong breeze might unravel the threads and leave this vagabond unprotected in the cold. The tired eyes that had looked at them upon his inquiry spoke of no sleep for days on end. The lacking shoes were a common sign of a homeless man particularly down in the dumps.

Beyond the man's simple appearance was the way he ate. Each bite was savored. A man who starved once would scarf down a meal without a thought. A man who always questioned when his next meal would be would savory bite... and savor he did.

The sorrow of his voice when he asked the crowd opinion of himself; the thankfulness in his voice and modesty of his food selection compared to the far more expensive items available for free; the way this man ignored the vile things yelled about him, all these spoke volumes of a humble heart.

While magic was not a good thing, neither was attacking a man and then starving him when he employs self defense.

Suckers.

Malloki knew leaving the building would end as it did. His worn clothing was a product of jumping out of his air ship. He rarely ever wore shoes just to enjoy the pain of stepping on things or stubbing his toe. As for his hair and beard? That was the only partially true analysis among the many that ran through the Pro-Outcast mindset.

That little tear-jerking question was designed specifically to pull at the morality of those around him. With a fifty-fifty chance to sway the country-bumpkins with a sob story, he had not quite expected the free food. Of course he knew better than to take hospitality too far, lest he abuse the reprieve he had earned.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The meal was delightful, no doubt about it. Rice was fresh and sticky, the fish was fresh and finely cut without that previously-frozen zinc taste. All in all, Malloki would love to visit here again and pay for a meal. Sadly, he doubted such an opportunity would ever arise. His gaze drifted from his chopsticks over to one particular patron of the shop that had just shouted above the others; screamed, really. The idea was interesting, but only to Malloki. Throw him over the edge, he had said.

The crowd fell silent in shock. The Pro-Malloki were against such deadly and barbaric situations, while half of the hate-squad were against it simply for morality. Half of the hate-squad, just a quarter of the crowd including this young man, were silent but seemed like the idea at least held merit. The questions unspoken filled the air with pregnant silence.

The young man, barely out of his teens with a scraggly goatee (probably the best he could grow), lightly tanned skinned and sun-bleached hair nodded at his own words. "Yea! We throw him over the edge! You saw it, he's indestructible, he'll be fine! Someone down below will find him eventually and he'll be with others like him! You know, magic folk!" The hate-squad were now all about throwing the outsider overboard. Indestructible meant he would survive, so the questioning morality went out the window. All the problems solved with a neat little bow.

"Why don't we just... lower him down? Safely?" Malloki turned to the older woman with a child hidden behind her colorful skirts. Her gray hair and tired eyes held an air of kindness that only a mother could bear. Something about her made the man want to snuggle up beside her and read fairy tales. "We have ample rope... maybe we could--"

"No! Gabriel's right, why spare th' rope if'n he's one of them immortals?" An older gent, far more tanned with a shaved and waxed head chimed up with a more aggressive tone. "He's not like us, Margaret." Figures her name would be something homely.

"Well," Malloki chimed in. Eyes of the crowd flicked like daggers through the air to land on him. "I'm not immortal. I just heal... but I need food to do it. If I heal too much with not enough energy, I'll starve to death." While he informed the crowd of his faux-immortality, he denied letting these simpletons know of his other features. Malloki gave the most disarming smile he could muster up. To be fair, with his disheveled state, it was pretty damn convincing.

The old woman looked him over with narrowed eyes. It was not with suspicion, but with curiosity. "What about landing? Won't it hurt you?"

"I don't feel pain... At least, not like you do. So no, as long as I can heal, I'll be fine." But you won't! Yet again he easily avoided the dark repercussions of their decision.

The young man called Gabriel clapped his hands as if a decision had been made. "Alright! So we fatten him up, then throw the monster off the island, everyone happy with that?" No. Everyone was not happy with that. A few of the pro-outsider crew did not want to just throw Malloki off... but they were quickly being outnumbered. The best they could do is look to the vanguard of hospitality.

Margaret nodded slowly while exhaling a sigh of disappointment. She seemed almost ashamed of the crowd. Malloki was not the only to notice this, a few others lowered their heads like scolded children. "One night, food and shelter... as an apology for our own attacking you."

"But--"

"But WHAT, Matthew?" Margaret's words had bite to them. The older bald man shrank back at the venom. "He has not lifted a finger against any of us. I'll confirm with the others before we shelter him, but from what I have seen, he has just been attacked. Magical or not, we forced his hand." The child hidden behind the old woman hid away his face. Her face? Malloki could not really tell gender with the neutral white colors and fluffy hat they wore.

There were no contestants to Margaret's words. "Yes mayor," was the nearly unanimous response. Mayor somewhat made sense. She was definitely a people-person with a soft heart but something of an iron-fist. No doubt she would be a good mayor. Too bad Malloki would not be around long enough to witness her reign of kind terror.

"I'm fine with that. I'll even let your friend here do the honors." Malloki nodded towards Gabriel. "If he really wants me gone, he can be the one to push me. In fact... if he wants me gone, he'll have to push me." The crowd did a slow-pan towards the young man who had eyes wide as saucers. "Are you brave enough to potentially kill a man?"

"You said you heal..."

"Never said I could heal from this, just that I can heal."

"Can you?"

"I don't know."

Gabriel fell quiet. For a long moment he took stock over the crowd, to see who was still backing him and who would blame the man. It took a few like-minded nods from his compatriots before he could nod. "I'll take that risk. Your kind don't belong here, among civilized folk."

And there it was. "Then its a date! Say, crack of dawn?" The Living Voodoo placed his chopsticks onto the empty plate and stood. Eyes lingered on him, filled with caution, fear, regret and hatred. "Miss Margaret, in this abode for the night, would it impose to request a razor and shaving cream? I don't get to clean up too often, and I would very much like to look my best for what might be my last day alive."

What others figured was a cynical tone was anything but. The man was delighted, maybe tomorrow he would experience that absolute bliss! The kiss of death would just be a tasty treat to start his morning off right. Margaret, being filled with sorrow at his words, nodded solemnly. "Yes, we can accommodate you. We have something of a small hotel here in town, you may have a room for the night at no cost... and I'll make sure you have plenty to eat."

The crowd was torn. There were so few that could band together after this moral conflict that only the mayor could dare look him in the eyes. They were all preparing for the scene tomorrow, to see a man thrown potentially to his death. This is, of course, just as Malloki wanted. If anyone was thinking back on the wrench-wielding farmer, they were not thinking of how the man seemingly bludgeoned himself to near-death. They only know that the man had somewhere along the lines been rushed off to emergency care and Malloki stood with little more than a few lingering scars long since healed. No one considered the ramifications of throwing him off. No one considered what would happen to Gabriel.

"Then if you'd lead the way, I would love to be reminded what a bed actually feels like." One last pull at the heartstrings. Too much? Nah. It's never too much!

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The village was very compact to the point that everything seemed simply overlaid on top of everything else. If Malloki had to venture a guess, the only building with a single dedicated use would probably be the hotel itself. As Margaret lead him down the road to the next building, she held the door open for the outsider in a kind gesture. It was bittersweet, with both parties knowing when he next passes through these doors, it may be the end of his time on the island. It may even be the end of his time period.

The walk was brief and quiet. The kindly old mayor assumed the man was contemplating potentially his last moments. In reality, the unhinged mind of the masochist was thinking on what it would look like if all that tasty pain was reflected upon that nasty Gabriel. Such a shame such a vile man would feel something so delightful. Malloki almost wished he could let Margaret feel it instead, but he doubted the woman would take the reigns, considering her thoughts on the topic.

They stopped for only a few seconds as the gray-haired woman stepped behind the counter to take a key. There was no registration process, no checking for reservations or making sure a room was not already reserved. He had a friend in office, after all. He was receiving the royal treatment.

The walk continued to an elevator and the silence persisted until they rose two stories. Once the door dinged and slid open with a quiet hiss, she stepped towards the first door. "Your room will be the second on the right. You'll find all the necessary toiletries in a bag on your nightstand. I will have you a sizable dinner brought to your room."

There was a pause long enough for the elevator to nearly shut. The old woman made no attempt to stop the door, but Malloki was quick to put his arm out to trigger the sensors. It was odd how the old woman flinched. She did not look afraid of Malloki, more like she was hoping he would let it close. "You are not a prisoner here... but try not to wonder too freely. My citizens are stuck in their ways. I have a distaste for magic like anyone else on the islands... but a murderer does not make a good politician in my eyes."

Aww, she's so sweet! Naive... but sweet! "Thanks for your kindness. Almost wish it was you giving me the send-off tomorrow." The look of disdain on her face was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

"I wish nooone was giving you a send-off tomorrow, but I'm afraid if you were not sent down with a chance to survive, you'd be tried and found guilty as a murderer and imprisoned for life..." Or the death sentence, Malloki finished the thought for her.

Stepping into the long hall, Malloki passed Margaret and took the key she offered. "Well thanks for the leniency. They didn't give me much choice."

With that, he unlocked the door and stepped into his private room for the night. With one last glance behind him, he saw the surprise, puzzled and fearful look on the old woman's face. Yea, they. With the fear of the outsider, no one had gone to that little fro-yo shop before Miss Do-Good had taken the man to his new kingly estate. No one knew exactly what happened to the sniper. No one, of course, except for the proxy-murderer himself.

As hurried footsteps vanished down the hall and the elevator bell announced the opening doors, Malloki found his prize. The bag beside the bed was full of exactly what he needed; a razor, shaving cream and all the necessary supplies for a deep cleansing shower.

Entering phase one, Malloki took his new treasures to the absolutely tiny little bathroom. As he prepared his workstation, a familiar old mantra was chanted.

"I am not attacking myself. I intend no harm to Malloki Tuwile. Shaving is prone to accidents and such accidents are not intentional. I am not attacking myself. I intend no harm to Malloki Tuwile. Shaving is prone to accidents and such accidents are not intentional."

The words were spoken in monotone, crisp and clear as the unhinged man could make them. He took a pair of trimming scissors from the bag and cut as close to the skin as he could manage. The thick, shaggy beard would otherwise ruin the razor in a few strokes or less.

Once he felt the scissors lob off the last thick patch, he turned on the hot water and uncapped the cheep razor. They made this difficult, didn't they?

"I am not attacking myself. I intend no harm to Malloki Tuwile. Shaving is prone to accidents and such accidents are not intentional." Shaving cream was applied thoroughly, covering almost the entirety of his face and neck to try and avoid any mishaps of lengthy strokes.

He could not die here. He could not let tomorrow's promise be soiled by a little razor. "I am not attacking myself." The razor slowly touched his lower right jaw. "I intend no harm to Malloki Tuwile." The razor pulled against the grain with slow agony. It felt pleasant in the normal sense, but the way it pulled he could tell he would need more than one stroke to finish the job. "Shaving is prone to accidents..." the razor lowers to the water for a quick rinse before going in for a second cleansing stroke. "and such accidents are not--"

"FUCK!"

Barely a drop of blood trailed down his cheek. The cheep razor had caught him on just the smallest imperfection on his face a few seconds in.

Red filled his vision as he stared into the mirror. His hands trembled and that familiar sensation of bloodlust rose. He HAD to kill that man. His goopy-white beard, the stupid mop of hair... How should I kill that mother fucker?

The razor was dropped as ideas sprang to mind. The guard made it hard to leave a lasting cut, another weapon was needed! His hands drilled into the pockets of his tattered jacket. The first thing he instinctively sought out was a dented zippo that he struggled to open. The second was a pack of cigarettes with the filters ripped off. A treasure from one of the worlds he had visited in his self-inflicted exile.

With the flint struck and a flame boiling he had the utmost desire to set himself ablaze... but instead he struggled to bring the toxin stick to his lips and light the tip. [/i]Cancer. Give him cancer.[/i]

He took a deep drag off that cigarette and held it deep. When he exhaled he struggled to curse the man in the mirror. "Fuck you," he managed before nearly hacking up a lung. The hacking brought a fit of childish giggles as his throat burned. The filter-less menthol burned so pleasantly.

And it worked. The killing instinct and physical drive was satisfied with the idea of inflicting cancer and lung damage, tearing his throat with menthol infused tar and all the other nasty effects of highly processed tobacco. Holding the cigarette betwixt his lips in such a way the smoke burned one eye closed, the razor was fished out of the sink and shaving continued.

Cigarettes were, in effect, Malloki's saving grace. The thought of cancer was close enough to be considered hostile. The damage, however, was so minuscule from one cigarette that the Hex would time out. Only a few of these cancerous life-savers remained.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The razor was dropped onto the counter for the final time. The last of his cigarette was stamped out haphazardly right beside it. As Malloki looked into the mirror to see a classy looking cut, he was reminded vaguely of his life before The Good Doctor. So much time used to be spent caring for his appearance. Exercise, bi-weekly trips to the barber, regular doctor’s visits… so many things to look and feel good when he was just a regular human.

The clean lines of his facial hair and pristine shaved spaces helped bring out a scrap of humanity in the Living Voodoo, but it never stayed. He did not need to look good to feel good anymore. The handle of a knife in someone else’s hand with the blade deep in his gut made him feel good. A bullet once in front of his face exiting the back of his skull made him feel good. This? Cutting himself with a cheap razor? It almost derived him of this sort of satisfaction.

Why go through with it? Why did the unhinged masochist want to look normal? He wanted to emotionally break the denizens of this place. Tomorrow he would put on a sad smile and say goodbye to the few people that took his side, and those who had yet to meet him. Tomorrow he would look back sorrowfully as that Gabriel pushed him over the edge.

That man may very well be immune to Malloki’s wiles, so he will be the one to share in Malloki’s experience. The delights at the bottom of that fall cannot be Malloki’s alone, everything is more fun with friends after all. Yes… they will best friends.

“Dear diary,” Malloki’s lips curled into a smile as his mind drifted further from reality. “Today I met so many fun and exciting people. At first, they all wanted to play! That was fun for a while, but it was kind of hard to find a snack with everyone wanting to have fun. I had to ask for a break.

The vacant eyes of the unhinged man loosely focused on the smiling figure in the mirror. “I was polite though, and my new friends shared their snacks with me! A nice old lady even gave me a nice place to nap for tonight so we can play again tomorrow!” The thought of falling to his doom sent shivers up Malloki’s spine. “Big game tomorrow! Me and this nice guy named Gabriel. He doesn’t mind playing a little rough, so I think we’re going to be best friends!”

“I’m going to have to say goodbye tomorrow… I don’t really want to go, but part of the game means I have to leave.” The distant smile faded from his lips and a furrow crossed his brow. “I really wanted to play with everyone in town. I don’t know when I’ll get to see so many people at one time… It would be really fun to play with that many people.”

Malloki stopped speaking. For a few long minutes, he stood there, staring at himself. One might think the man was coming back to reality, realizing his version of playing was one step away from mass murder. That was not the case. Within that unhinged mind was a devious plot forming. I WILL play with the whole town. Everyone will know how much fun I can be.

The upsurge of determination broke the man from his reverie. He turned and manhandled the shower’s knobs till steam began filling the room. This time tomorrow, this whole town will remember my game. If they survived. Of course, that thought rested in the back of his mind, somewhere between self-preservation and fear. You know, in the part of the mind that houses all those useless thoughts you never listen to.

His rags-for-clothing fell in heaps to the floor. Standing stark naked in the rapidly heating room, he wondered just how many people he could bring into his game? As the hot steam eclipsed his mirror image, Malloki contemplated just how many people he could make vanish with just one game. Just one game… so many people… The Good Doctor would be so happy. The Good Doctor always loved his games.

The moment he stepped into the shower he could tell this hotel lowered their hot water heater’s temperature. Though there was that delightful sting of heat, it was not nearly as bad. The hundred-fifty some-odd temperature back home was far better. If he had to guess, he would estimate this closer to a buck-twenty at best. Still, it was satisfying to feel the amazing water pressure pelt him across the chest.

Water that pooled around the drain had almost the color of mud. As the dirt was stripped away, the lighter skin beneath revealed a quickly darkening reddened hue. The pain-pleasure was pleasant, but not nearly enough to have him cackling like a madman. Maybe when the blisters started.

No… On second thought, Malloki quickly turned off the hot water entirely and instead turned the cold on full. Can’t risk any new scarring. Not if I want everyone to play with me. How exactly would he explain away his masochistic burns? He needed sympathy. A few in the crowd may call him a monster already, thanks to the encounter in the fro-yo shop. He needed to sway the crowd. Pity is what he needed, not caution.

The little daggers of ice hit him like a wall after the heat. The potentially blistered skin puckered painfully in an instant. A grin returned as he cringed, like a toddler tickled by a feather. This delightful pain lasted for only a moment before it faded. With it, the cooling water took away the sting from his minor burns. The relief was… boring. The numbing was boring. The discomfort from the frigid water was not nearly entertaining enough.

Though the razor had been cheap and quick to cut, the washcloth he had been given in his care package was gentle. All in all, it was a very boring shower that left him with much time to plot the coming game.

His thoughts brought him through to the end of his cleansing ritual. As he took a step onto the cold tile outside of the bath-shower combo, the world inverted. In just a few seconds he was upside down in the tub. The sickening crunch of his spine over the edge of the tub, the cracking of his skull against the fiberglass ground, the pain was immense.

Though all he could see was white, the glimmering beads of faux-light and the ear-piercing ringing wracking his senses announced the definite brain damage. The numbness of his toes and inability to control anything below an awkward bend in his spine stated he very well should have been paralyzed. Death should come soon. At least, to anyone else, death would come.

For a brief moment, Malloki thrived in the pain and a new sense of numbness that robbed him of all except for shooting ghost-pains. Alas, all good things come to an end. His legs quickly snapped upwards as his spine corrected itself. Practically tossed into a heap with his head nicely stitched back together.

The pain lingered, but the actual damage was enjoyed for only a second before his body NOPE’d it out of existence. Ahh, the wonderful random accident...

I’ll sleep good tonight.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

Like every morning, Malloki awoke with a scream. He could not remember what it was, but something running through his unconscious mind tormented the man to a cold sweat anime his eyes closed. As he held his chest, breathing ragged, Malloki’s eyes tore the bathroom apart looking for any clues, any reminder, any hint as to what he had been dreaming about.

Nothing came. All attempts to delve into his slumbering memories came with hazy glimpses at best, but even then he could make nothing of these slivers. Those brief and vague images quickly drifted away into absolute obscurity leaving nothing behind but a racing heart and something of a post-coital smile.

All injuries of the previous night had been immediately healed, but there was a lingering numbness of his toes. That would be only a drop in the bucket if the morning played out how he hoped. Big game today!

And with that, Malloki was up and dashing out of the tiny bathroom. Just one step out though and he had already made a mess. The clattering of metal brought his attention down to a spilled bowl of colorful vegetable stew. “Fuck!” There was last night’s dinner. He kneeled by the steel platter to check the other contents. A lidded cup of some sort of warm juice, spilled vegetable soup and some sort of white cube.

“Dear god, it’s VEGAN! THOSE MONSTERS!” He bolted upright and stormed away. A foot hovered mid-air, awaiting the next numb step. His gaze turned sharply onto a new addition to the room hanging on a hook near the door. The plastic-wrapped object almost took Malloki’s breath away.

Within the dry-cleaner’s suit cover was a pristine three piece suit. Stark white, he could only imagine how it would look after a few games! Splattered red… A shiver ran up Malloki’s spine. The Good Doctor will be so happy! The best memories of The Good Doctor involved the old man in a white labcoat splattered in Malloki’s blood.

“I’ll be back for you!” he promised the suit. With a prance to his step and the vile vegan food forgotten, the unhinged man approached the unused bed. Sure, room service may know last night’s sleeping arrangements, but no one else had to. After a good leap onto the queen size mattress and a moment of wallowing, Malloki was done protecting his facade.

“Alright,” he announced with a clap of his hands. “Time to get ready for the Big Game!” Rolling off his back and off the bed, he danced back over to his suit and carefully took the gift into the bathroom. Again, only one step into the room was made before a pause. Back out of the tiny room, he decided it best to dress where he had a bit of wiggle room and less chance of killing himself.

After all, playing by himself is not nearly as fun!



No one ever told Malloki how hard it would be to put a suit on. His nightmare was an early alarm and he had hoped to hit up a buffet before the game. The suit had other plans. By the time he was finishing his tie, the sun was up and shining in through the apartment’s window.

“I might actually die today,” Malloki mused aloud.

“Dear Diary; today may be the funnest game in a long time. High stakes, high rewards. Mom always warned me about gambling. At least, I think she did.” Like most things before The Good Doctor, he could not remember much about his mother.

Not that it mattered.

Malloki was content with his new life and the new forms of pleasure he derived. He wanted to share this pleasure with the world, just as The Good Doctor intended. The Doctor may have perished, and his research my have mysteriously disappeared, but his work will live on!

And so is the game.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

Malloki was greeted by a crowd of citizens as he approached the edge of the island. Much like the day before, the people that looked upon him did so with a mixture of feelings. Some tucked their chins, stealing only glances. Others held their chins proudly as the doomed magical being and murderer walked into his own funeral procession.

Gabriel stood at the edge of the island in a contrasting black suit. Fitting, Malloki thought, for the scene they think will play out. Of course, no one knew of the game that will be played today. The man-that-would-murder-Malloki just took a deep breath and smiled.

Margaret was trying to sway the crowd. Malloki knew this tactic. The ritualistic gathering and procession were designed to humanize Malloki and demonize the throwing of the man to his death. It was a good tactic but this was mob mentality at its finest. Gabriel seemed so confident, and by now the two who had fallen to Malloki had spread their story of his mysterious but brutal magic.

If anything, the divide had vanished after the Fro-Yo incident came to light. Those that shied their eyes away only did so due to the brutality of the punishment. They all condemned the Living Voodoo after the tale of survivors.

Then there was the sniper. Discovered only this morning, the tale of the corpse spread like wild fire as one citizen ran to the door of another. The story of the brutalized men had been the kindling, but the death of one of their own lit the fuse. Not a soul in this tiny town would stand against Malloki’s violent banishment. A few may have wished the man would flee through the night, Margaret included, but none would allow this monster to stay.

He had to go.

As the unhinged man came to his place in front of the mob leader, he happily smiled upon Gabriel. “I always thought it was custom for the executioner to wear face cover?” He inquired with a leading intent. “Though, I guess that’s for anonymity… By now, everyone knows it will be Sir Gabriel that would be beheading a monster for defending himself.”

Whispers already began. Unlike before, few were questioning the damning evidence. The only thing questioned was this man’s humanity.

“We won’t fall for your words, outsider.” Malloki’s brow rose as Gabriel spoke with a resoundingly firm tone. “You brutalized two of our citizens and killed another. There was no need for such brutal force in self defense.”

A quick glance around let Malloki judge the crowd. They were reaffirmed in their faith in the mob mentality, standing behind Gabriel and his words whole-heartedly. “Oh?” he inquired as if surprised. “Then you don’t know how my particular gifts work. I only give as good as I get.”

The love for science and technological advancement blinded these people to the “what if” questions of magic. Naturally, his words only confused the populous. “Nonsense! We saw what you did! One man has lost an eye and another is traumatized by what he calls the mad puppetmaster! You made them do it!”

Well, that was almost spot-on.

“But I doubt you can control all of us with over a mile in between us.” Well the scrap of insight was lost with blind speculation.

The Living Voodoo moved closer to the edge, facing the sea far, far below. “You may be right…My power wanes with distance and with quantity... “ By the GOOD DOCTOR it was hard not to giggle at that lie.

Pale fingers appeared upon Gabriel’s shoulder as a man clasped him firmly. “Well y’ gotta get th’ two of us now, bucko.”

“Three.”

“FOUR of us!”

Like lambs to the slaughter, people began chaining together, branching in multiple lines, as they all effectively held hands in the unified act of murdering Malloki. Mob mentality at its finest. There was only one that did not fall for the ploy, only one adamant about not murdering another soul. The mayor herself.

Margaret, void of the child around her leg, was standing in her starting place with her eyes upon Malloki. She held a mixture of anger, of sorrow, and of worry. “If that is settled,” she finally spoke up, “let us begin.”

The chain of murderers remained in contact as Gabriel faced Malloki. “Outsider, for the defensive assault and murder of the citizens of Orenvale, we condemn you to banishment from the island. By negotiation, both the Outsider and Gabriel Laison have agreed to banishment via physical expulsion off of the island and into the oceans below.”

There was not a moment of hesitation in the piercing eyes of Gabriel. “Your last meal, and the free breakfast buffet will hopefully be enough to allow your survival,” Wait. FREE. BUFFET. FUCK! “But in the event you do not perish to the turbulent waters below, as Mayor of Orenvale, I wish you to know that we are people of our word. None here will follow you, nor seek ill will outside of our island borders.”

Malloki’s mind revolved around the lost meal. He had skipped right past the dining hall, assuming his empty pockets doomed him to an empty belly. That, and the vegan dinner had him worried that all food from that particular hotel would follow an unsavory (and un-meaty) trend. “With this promise… are you still willing and ready to undertake your selected expulsion?”

The pause and attentive look from all eyes told Malloki he was supposed to respond here, something of implied last words. “Yup!” That invoked a response of surprise. The solemn speech and possibility of death, and he sounded so optimistic.

“Very well. Gabriel, are you willing to potentially condemn this outsider to a watery grave?”

“Yup!” The man tried to sound as upbeat and excited as Malloki. He tried, and he failed. The voice crack shifting a few octaves too high and slight lowering of his shoulders following the failure told a tale of Gabriel’s weaker will. “I’m ready.” The recovery was equally as weak. Malloki turned to face the crowd once again, just to see the anger spread across Gabriel’s face.

“Then with the consent of both parties… Gabriel… proceed. But do so knowing--”

Gabriel, ready to recover from the pubescent-like voice crack had already proceeded. It was not a hand he placed upon Malloki, but a big boot to Malloki’s abdomen solid enough to knock the wind from him. Margaret gasped in shock at Gabriel’s aggression and Malloki’s wickedly delighted smile as he fell backwards over the island’s boundary.

The crowd filled with panic. The intense pressure of a kick was felt by not only Gabriel, but all those who desired this. All those touching Gabriel immediately tried to release the executioner as they rushed over to the edge. Dozens of citizens watched the falling of Malloki, They wanted to do more.

They had to thoroughly destroy him.

To maim and maul that monster.

They needed to murder Malloki.

The intense urge boiled within every hostile soul and one by one muscles defy their owners. Malloki watched the skies above him as he descended, happy to see that he was not the only to play the game.

”This is my favorite part of the game!”

After twenty seconds of free-falling and achieving terminal velocity, Malloki meets his end. It was not within the rolling ocean waves. He only saw it for a moment as his gaze sought out his destined end. What he saw was a hardwood decking ringed by a metal hull. He managed only an utterance of his surprise. “Oh.”

In the blink of an eye, the man’s skull crumpled. His spine became a wet crinkle-cut french fry, and his ribs compressed into a wall of bones. His legs dwarfed in size as his humerus became humorous additions to the inside of his lungs. Everything sank further down, compressing like an accordion then popping like a chunky water balloon.

Entrails painted the deck of the ship around his point of impact. For a brief moment, Malloki experienced the ultimate pleasure.

And so did all those that followed. They needed no hard surface to splatter upon. Each hexed member of the murderous mob imploded to critical mass, before exploding in a goopy-nova.

The poop-deck became aptly named as the sea-men collectively shat their pants beneath the blood rain and bone-shrapnel hail.

And after all of that… Malloki was standing above his own corpse. He stood stark naked, showered in the blood of all those that played his game with his feet deep in the mangled intestines of his own corpse.

Not a word was said as he reveled in the waves of blissful agony of his most recent death, like waves of a powerful orgasm after one’s darkest fetish had been realized.