Zhyan's Living Nightmare

 A cloud of dust flew up into the air, billowing upwards as the scant desert wind lifted it above the parched earth. Someone coughed loudly, choking on the lungful of dust he'd just inhaled. The dust  cleared, revealing a seventy foot behemoth, club in hand, bearing down on a small, insignificant creature. Zhyan looked up at his foe in time to see the studded weapon come crashing down, giving him  little time to evade the blow. Jumping backwards and falling comfortably into a roll, he managed to escape the attack, but got another lungful of dust for his trouble. Before the newest cloud dissipated, he took to the air, hoping to get as high above the demon as possible, hoping to gain the upper hand. Unfortunately, he hadn't  anticipated his wings helping the cloud along, so instead of having the element of surprise, he got a twenty foot studded tree in his  face. Rebounding from the club like a ball from a bat, the archangel cut through the air, only to have his journey stopped by a

conveniently placed cliff face, halting his involuntary flight with a sickening crunch. He hit the floor in a heap, his wings now tattered, his armour dented beyond repair, and he was bleeding in so many  different ways his injuries couldn't be documented. Defiantly he stood, wavering as he tried to focus on his enemy, unable to see clearly with blood pouring down his face. He tried to steady himself next to the cliff, but couldn't move his arm. Looking down, he cringed and looked away, unable to comprehend the messy compound fracture that was now his arm.

 He was dead. His friends would be picking up his bloody, half-eaten  remains for the next month if he didn't do something quick. The oversized pixie walked slowly up to his prey, savouring the panic on the beaten angel's face, savouring the last few moments this blooddrenched creature would ever witness. Zhyan sighed loudly, knowingthat he had two choices. Neither of them appealed, but this was life or death. Slowly, he raised his one good arm, aiming his hand at the demon's head. This did nothing but amuse the oncoming death machine,making him laugh out loud at this pathetic movement. Zhyan continued, undaunted by the booming, mocking laughter that nearly burst his eardrums. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the power he wanted to

unleash; the power he never wanted to tap into ever again, but this was a desperate situation. He knew he couldn't control it, his fury and agony would prevent him from holding anything back, but it was either this, or option number two: run away. It wasn't that he considered running from a superior opponent cowardice, it was a case of principal. Never did he want to run from a pixie, whether it be six inches or six hundred feet, even if it did have him on the ropes.

The air began to hum around him, wavering as if he was in a more intense heat than that of the desert itself. The demon pixie towered over him, club in both hands, ready to strike. Zhyan opened his eyes, the pure venom and hatred in his gaze fixing his foe in place, confusing the behemoth enough to prevent the killing blow. It looked as though it was about to speak, but Zhyan made his move first.

 The landscape used to be red, the sandstone varying from golden to ruby. It was now a strange black/ blue colour, still smoking from the powerful onslaught unleashed by the angel, now on his knees through relief, his heart racing. Nothing remained of the gigantic pixie; thesurrounding area infused with the creature's molecules and the remnants of Zhyan's energy blast. With nothing to show for his efforts apart from his multiple wounds, he opened a portal to the nearest hospital and fell through it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blinding whiteness of the hospital room nearly blinded him as he  opened his eyes slightly. He could barely move, his limbs so tightlybandaged he couldn't tell where the bandage finished and his skin began. His wings were stretched right out, each hole patched with a large square of linen until they repaired themselves, pleasing him greatly, as he expected to wake up and find the holes stitched together, wrecking his flight capability altogether. He was surprised at how his legs appeared to be untouched, as he only had a small bandage wrapped around his left knee, not that he could remember injuring his knee at all, but then again he could barely remember the battle at all. The door opened and a nurse entered carrying a small tray, oblivious to the inquiring gaze of the archangel. She placed it on the bedside table, then turned to look him in the eyes. He smirkedas she jumped backwards, not expecting him to be conscious yet since  his injuries were so severe.

 "So, John Doe, you're awake," she said, smiling at him sweetly. He couldn't explain it, but the name John Doe brought up many venomous emotions and inexplicable hatred, that must have been visible in his eyes, as the nurse took a step backwards, knocking into the tray.

 "That's not my name," he managed, trying not to aim his vengeance at the nurse. "It's� um�"

 "Oh dear, you know amnesia isn't uncommon among patients with head injuries. You should rest some more, so that your memory will come back. Until then, you're John Doe," she said matter-of-factly, ignoring the look of despair on his face.

 "But� but�" he wanted to yell, scream his name, but his mind was blank, until he noticed something `wrong' with the way the nurse acted. "Don't I know you?" he asked apprehensively, eyeing the nurse suspiciously.

 She stiffened, not knowing what to do, until an evil grin slowly grew on her lips. Turning to face him, she put her hand to her face and pulled off the latex mask, revealing Tygra, grinning psychotically as he picked up the syringe he had on his tray. Before he jabbed theneedle into the angel, he ran one of his paws down his body, down to the hem of his short dress and said, "D'ya think I'm sexy, big boy?"

 Zhyan screamed in terror, knowing he was at the mercy of the deranged Thundercat; the sight of Tygra in a short dress with stockings and suspenders making him wish he'd stayed in the desert to die.

 "Please� no!" Zhyan pleaded, trying to unhook his plastered arm from the sling that held it out to the side. Tygra advanced, the syringe poised, ready to be jabbed into his exposed neck. Zhyan lifted his left leg up, driving it into the Thundercat's chest as hard as he could, trying to buy himself some time. Tygra reeled backwards, knocking the other contents of the tray on the floor; the silvery scalpel catching the angel's eye as it slid under the bed. Tygra advanced quickly, grabbing Zhyan's offending foot, turning it to the side to expose a vein. Zhyan flailed like a fish out of water, kicking out with his other leg, hoping to knock the needle away from his assailant, but to no avail. Before the needle broke the skin, his plastered arm came free of the sling. In one fluid movement, he backhanded the Thundercat in the face, Tygra's nose connecting with the rock-like surface of his plaster with a satisfying crack. Before Tygra could recover, Zhyan rolled out of bed and threw open the door, blinking back the tears of agony as his arm began to complain angrily. He took one step out of the room before Tygra grabbed his wings and pulled him back inside, throwing him violently to the bed. Zhyan tried to kick and punch at his attacker, but Tygra pressed the full weight of his body against him, preventing any kind of substantial hit. Tygra pushed Zhyan's head to the side, exposing his throbbing vein, his heart pumping wildly.

 "Did you think I'd forget what you did to me? Did you think I'd forget such humiliation?" he spat, breathing heavily in Zhyan's ear.

Zhyan's mind worked furiously to try and remember what the Thundercat was talking about, as well as trying to think of a way to escape.

Tygra loosened his grip on the angel's head, allowing him to look him in the eyes.

 "I don't know what you're talking about!" he screamed, resuming his flailing once more. Tygra punched the angel in the face before he held his head down again.

 "Well, little archangel, let me assure you that it wasn't pleasant, the same way that this won't be pleasant�" he said slowly, as if he were talking to a child. Zhyan felt the cool metal of the needle press against his vein. He gave one last muffled cry as the needle pierced his vein, polluting his blood with whatever foul toxin the Thundercat had chosen to use as his tool of vengeance. Tygra loosened his grip when he was sure the poison was working, standing over the angel who tried to sit, without success.

 "What have you done to me?" Zhyan asked weakly, finally managing a sitting position.

 Tygra laughed maniacally. "I did a little research into your physiology. If you don't get the antidote to my special concoction soon, you will perish."

 "What's the antidote?" Zhyan demanded, trying to stand but fell to his knees.

 "You don't expect me to tell, do you?" Tygra replied, enjoying this  way too much.

 "Tell me!" Zhyan screamed, his anger driving him to his wobbly feet. Tygra pushed him back with ease, sprawling him on the floor. The angel put his hand back to support himself, his fingers brushing over the scalpel which he soon claimed as his.

 "Do you really want to know the cure?" Tygra asked sweetly, enjoying the moment.

 "What do you think?" Zhyan snarled, picking himself up from the floor slowly, scalpel concealed between the plaster and his skin.

 Tygra grinned evilly and began to raise his skirt, making Zhyan shudder at the thought of what the outcome would be. High up theinside of his thigh was a vial of milky liquid, held up by a lace garter.

 Tygra pointed to the vial. "If you can take this vial out with your teeth, you can have the antidote," he said, revelling in the horror on the angel's features.

 Zhyan crawled over to Tygra's spread legs, the thought of doing as the Thundercat wanted making him heave. Once he thought he was close enough, Zhyan bent his head down towards Tygra's crotch, but before he got close enough to the vial, he flicked the scalpel out from his plaster, severing the garter, then jabbed it in Tygra's leg, an inch  from his intended target. He jumped back in triumph, the vial in hand as he smarmed at the squealing Tygra who tore the blade from his thigh.

 "Ha! You thought you'd won, didn't you? I hope you've learned that you can't get one over on me!" Zhyan cried in jubilation as he popped the cork on the small glass tube, consuming it's contents quickly. The sharp, salty tang made him screw his face up, taking every ounce of self control to keep the contents down.

 Although he was in agony, Tygra grinned. "I never said that was the antidote!"

The End

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