Magic Murder Cube Marine

Francis had experienced explosive diarrhea before. He had experienced the aftermath of eating a salad after weeks of MREs. He had eaten dollar enchiladas that made him wonder if he was going to turn inside out (or get whiplash). But this was the first time Francis had achieved lift-off.

He barely managed to get his booty shorts down around his ankles before it hit. “Oh hell.” The Marine groaned as a wave of nausea flowed over him. Half of Francis’ divinity was leaving his body, and it was using every possible exit to make a speedy getaway.

Mac, the demonic cat, cocked its head to the side. “Oh, that doesn't look good. Should he be smoking? Do humans usually smoke like that?”

“No! It's not normal!” Shouted the Marine as he pounded a fist on his knee. He could smell burning bacon and rainbow sprinkles. And the worst was yet to come. He could feel it building up inside of him, preparing to release.

“Well, good luck with that then!” Mac called out before it teleported away to escape the blast radius. Cassi followed after. He was a chocolate wizard, but not that kind of chocolate.

“Fucking System!” Francis screamed as he rocketed off into the sky. Sparks of red, white, and blue light trailing behind him as he ascended.

***

Back at the palace, Jack looked around in confusion. His new “Doc” senses were tingling. That meant someone was hurt, about to be hurt, or needed to be hurt to protect his grunts. Since he currently only had one grunt under his care, that narrowed things down considerably.

“Has anyone seen Francis?” He called out to the drunken wedding guests. But nobody answered. Julia and Shiv were off in their room. Willow was talking very passionately about necromancer hospitality to the chefs. And Chuck had his head stuck in a bucket of beer. (He hadn't gotten used to the horn yet.)

A delicate hand covered in black fur tugged at his elbow. It was one of the musicians Amanda had kidnapped, a cat-folk bard with a purple tunic. “Um, that's the big guy, right?” She asked.

“Yeah, I'm looking for a big fucking Marine.” Jack confirmed, resolving to put some kind of tracking spell on Francis next time. Jack’s Doc senses were going crazy! Whatever the Marine was up to, it had to be something insanely dangerous.

The cat-folk bard pointed out the window at a figure in a fetal position, rising rapidly above the forest on a pillar of red, white, and blue sparks. “Um… is that him?”

“Fuck!” Jack swore as he took off at a dead run. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

***

From his position high above the treetops, Francis spotted something interesting. There was a cottage in a forest clearing not far from him. He adjusted his flight path by leaning forward a bit and tried not to overshoot his objective.

The Marine had to admit, after he got over the initial pain and surprise, it wasn't the worst method of transportation he ever tried. Ass rocketing into the sky was a lot more fun than driving a Humvee on the freeway. (And probably safer too.)

Francis was starting to feel better as the last of his excess divinity burned off. Unfortunately, that meant his only source of propulsion was about to stop working.

“Well, shit.” Francis said as he began to fall. He hitched up his booty shorts and braced for impact. On the plus side, Francis had managed to stay on target and landed in the garden behind Tiffany’s cottage. Unfortunately for him, it was a rock garden.

***

Tiffany was of hag heritage, so she was tall, green, and gangly. But she softened up her rough edges with tan fur lined moccasins and large pink sunglasses. Thousands of gold worth of dentistry had fixed her teeth, and any flaws in her complexion were spackled over with makeup.

“Oh my goodness!” She shouted as something slammed into the ground behind her cottage. “Like, what was that?”

She grabbed her oversized clay mug of water and went to investigate. Sitting in a roughly man sized hole was a wizard. He spit out a mouthful of gravel. “Are you Tiffany?”

“Maybe? Who wants to know?” The witch mentally called out for her bestie besties. Off in the distance an excited series of howls rang out.

“My name's Francis.” The man limped out of the hole. “Now, do you want to tell me why you have been sending people to attack my neighbor?”

“Oh, that guy?” She took a sip from her mug, it was narrower at the bottom so it could fit in the cup holder on her broom. “Fuck that guy.”

Francis watched the dozens of dire wolves approaching from the tree line. His recent experience with the green cloaks had made him apprehensive about tangling with large groups of enemies. “Any particular reason you hate him?”

“Well, yeah. What's it to you?”

The Marine sighed. He wasn't about to attack this woman unless she did something obviously hostile or evil. But those Ugg style boots she was wearing despite the afternoon heat and the “Don’t Be A Salty Bitch” doormat told him this was definitely the right place. He wasn’t big on making snap judgments. But it was fairly common knowledge that hags ate children and she had sent those assholes after Cassi .

There was, of course, one final test to make sure this person was both basic and evil. “It's my problem, because I'm the head of the Dark Forest Home Owner’s Association.” Francis lied, seizing a rare moment of inspiration. “You should know that attacking your neighbor is against HOA policy.”

Off in the distance two dozen dire wolves came to a dead stop. “There's a Dark Forest HOA?” Tiffany asked, her eyes lighting up. “That's amazing!”

“Yeah,” Francis said as he fell into character, “And I don't need to tell you that seeing gnomes stapled to trees is bad for housing prices.”

“Oh, shit. My bad. I just moved in.” Tiffany extended her hand for him to shake. Each finger ended on long green talons. “I'm Tiffany Kinderfresser, pleased to meet you.”

Francis shook her hand and looked around. “Nice place you have here. Is that pumpkin spice I smell?”

“Oh, yeah. It is!” Tiffany beamed. “I thought it was so much better than boring old gingerbread.”

“Well, do you mind if I take a look around to make sure everything is up to code before I invite you to join the HOA?” Francis asked. “We have very strict standards, but there may be a board seat coming available soon.”

“Of course. Make yourself at home.” Tiffany waved for him to enter the candy cottage. “I'd love to get a seat on the board. I have so many ideas.”

“I'll bet you do.” Francis replied.

***

Tiffany made iced vanilla lattes for them both and sat down to talk with her new friend. At first she had been nervous. But now that Francis was close, she could smell the necrotic energy wafting off of him. There was also a fresh demonic mark, and a familiar one at that. Hags were well known for their sense of smell. (But unfortunately, not for their sense of taste.)

“So, how do you know Lucipur?” Tiffany asked.

“Oh, the cat demon? They work for me.” Francis sniffed the iced vanilla latte, but didn't drink it. His time in the desert had made him aware of certain rules that should never be broken. You couldn't drink or eat with someone you might have to kill.

The hag looked at the glass nervously. She was also aware of the rules of hospitality. That was why the children needed to steal from her before she was allowed to eat them. “Is there something wrong with the drink?”

“I don't drink.” Francis lied.

“Oh, are you undead?” Tiffany sniffed the air. She was getting a powerful aura of Necromancy, but other than that he smelled human. Immediately she began to feel suspicious. Something wasn't right.

Francis summoned Relativity to his hand and let it thud on the ground. The Marine figured he could probably take her out, even in his weakened state. But he needed to make sure she was actually evil. “I'm not much for coffee. I wouldn't say no to some food though. Got anything young and stupid?”

The hag gawked at the evil artifact in Francis’ hand. “Is that the Staff of Moral Relativity?”

“Yeah.” Francis dismissed the weapon. “So, are you going to offer me something to eat, or are we going to talk about your position on the HOA board with empty stomachs?”

Tiffany thought about the young man in her basement. They didn't get much dumber than Mason. “I think I can find a suitable meal. How do you prefer them cooked?”

“I don't,” Francis said with a stone face, “Bring them to me, and I'll pick which one I want.”

A shiver went through Tiffany. Francis clearly was a being of immense power, and pure evil. The fact he could pass for human was incredible. No wonder they chose him to lead the HOA….

The Marine watched as the hag vanished through a trapdoor, and returned a few minutes later with a young man in his early twenties. He was grinning from ear to ear and went to fist bump his new friend. “Hi, I'm Mason. But my friends call me Brick.”

“My name is Francis, and they probably aren't your friends.” The Marine gave Tiffany a look that was equal parts annoyance and curiosity. On the one hand, she wasn't eating children. On the other hand, she had brought a frat bro into his presence. “Explain what exactly is going on here.”

“Mason, sweetie.” Tiffany grabbed the young man’s arm. “Why don't you go for a run around the cottage?”

“Sure thing!” Mason said enthusiastically before he bolted out the door and started doing laps.

“Ok, don't judge,” the hag said, “I know it's a little unorthodox. But I swear, they taste the same.”

Francis watched as Mason ran into the same low hanging branch three times in a row. Each time he got up, completed the loop, smacked into the tree, and fell down again. “So, he's an idiot.”

“And immature.” Tiffany added. “It turns out I don't actually have to eat children, if I can find grown men who act like children. Plus, if I ever get a little bit lonely…” She gave him a guilty grin.

“Tiffany, you're on thin fucking ice.” Francis warned. The Marine was about to say something nasty. But then he spotted an oven in the back of the cottage, and a plan began to form.

He snapped and pointed at the pink enamel monstrosity. “Can you tell me what's wrong with that oven?”

“Um… it looks fine to me.” The hag walked over to the oven and peered inside. “What's wrong with it?”

Francis shook his head as he walked over. “Tiffany, you're never going to get on the HOA board unless you learn to keep an eye out for compliance issues.”

“Compliance issues?” She wrinkled her nose. “What compliance issues?”

“It's too small,” Francis said, taking the momentary inspiration and running with it. “Look, how old are you?”

“That's a rude thing to ask, but I'm a hundred and twenty years old.” Tiffany replied. She was actually a hundred and forty. (But she felt one hundred and twenty.)

“Right, and in that time children have been getting bigger and bigger, haven't they?” Francis asked.

“Well, yes?” The hag saw where he was going with this, and she didn't like it. “Wait, are you really going to tell me my oven is too small because it can't accommodate larger children?”

“It's size based discrimination, and our HOA is against discrimination.” Francis crossed his arms and waited for her to attack him. “Sorry, there's nothing I can do. You can't join the board if your house isn't compliant.”

“That's bullshit! You can't just make up a regulation and selectively enforce it.” Tiffany was about to throw something heavy at Francis, but she stopped mid throw. “Wait, you’re just screwing with me!”

“Congratulations.” Francis clapped as he spoke. “You passed the test. I'll have your paperwork to join the board brought over right away.”

“I can't believe it!” Tiffany jumped up and down like a horrible green jackrabbit. “I'm so excited!”

“As you should be.” Francis frowned and pointed at the back corner of the open oven. He had planned to shove her into it, but unfortunately the oven wasn't on. “What's that?”

“What's what?” Tiffany stuck her head inside to get a closer look. “I don't see anything.”

Francis summoned Relativity and pointed it at the back of the child (and man-child) murdering hag’s skull. “Don't worry,” the Marine said as he began to cast Inferno, “You’ll know it when you see it.”