Evil Is Pink (bxb)

Chapter 10

Sticks's pink skin singed. He felt like a burning pancake—fried, crisped and squished between two chunks of debris. He groaned, gritting his teeth as he pushed whatever was crushing him off of his body.

"Gee wiz, doc! You're AMAZING!" He heard someone scream. Then he heard his dad's laughter. His signature hacking, hee-haw of a laugh.

"Of course I am! Now get back—!"

Sticks watched as his father shuffled out his newest creation. A contraption that appeared to have been made by a motley of materials, including umbrellas, metal spoons, ladles, radio wires, duct tape amongst other things.

The mini-army his father had gathered in the months Sticks had been absent, gathered around his father like flies to a stick of honey. Sticks heard a static sizzle and then a gush of heat wooshed across his face. His father, and his bundled army, began to blur, like the air above the cars in traffic during a scorching hot day.

Overlooking the courtyards, high up on the walls, guards began to shout and shoot from their positions. Sticks scrambled up, right as his father screamed at him—

"HURRY AND TAKE THEM OUT!!"

The bullets came torrenting through. He felt the bullets, but adrenaline made him ignore the pain. Sticks gripped the hunk of metal debris from the blast door, gritting his teeth in agony as he tried to pick it up. It was three times his size, but felt heavier than that. It was about as heavy as the moon. He chucked it as far as he could, shouting as he did. He could hear the bullets sizzling as little flickers of light sparked in an invisible, protective bubble around Dr. King and his assembled army of prisoners.

The metal collided against the top of the wall, tearing off a piece of it. The guards screamed:

"He's still got his powers—?!"

"Freeze him—!"

Sticks felt something spark inside his neck, and for a second Sticks thought that his father's precautions had failed. Then right as he expected the electricity to fry his brain, the bulb his father attached to his collar hissed. He flinched as static bit his neck. It still kinda hurt, but he was still standing. The pain was nothing more than a static shock—and not at all the debilitating lightning that could bring down a dragon.

Behind him, guards were starting to swarm Dr. King and his gang.

"BURY THEM!" He heard his father scream behind him, as his army roared into action. While they handled their exit, Sticks's job was to ensure no one or nothing could catch up to them. The guards on the walls were scrambling:

"The bullets aren't working—?!"

"Why aren't the collars freezin' them—?!"

They were stunned, and Sticks took the opportunity to chuck more metal at them. As he did, his eyes locked onto a familiar face.

Tendril.

For a moment, Sticks felt a pang of regret. He never got the opportunity to properly thank him for helping him out so much. His thoughts touched upon Pimickie and Rackus too. If he had known he would be escaping with his father today, he would've attempted to say a proper goodbye. Especially to Pimickie...his first friend.

Tendril was scowling, but whether or not it was directed at him was anybody's guess. Sticks wondered...if he and Tendril had a little more time...could they have been friends too?

But it was too late to be thinking about things like that. Because now, there would never be another chance. He could only hope that, if they were successful, maybe Tendril and the others could follow along with them too—

"The warden! Call the warden—!"

"Already did—! He's coming!"

Here it comes. Sticks wasn't ready, but he forced himself to be. He had the secret weapon in his pocket. If he could do this, it meant that his father and him could escape. More than that...it meant that he could finally redeem himself. If there was ever a time for him to get something right, please let it be now!

The ground ruptured, and an earthworm the size of an avalanche tore through the fabric of the soil like a deranged jack-in-the-box.

"It's Gorgo!! The waRDEN!!"one of the prisoners screeched.

In addition to the tiny police hat on top of the earthworm's head, there sat an extremely muscular, heavyset, mountain of a man. If Sticks was the moon, then the man was Jupiter. The man leapt off from the earthworm's throat and landed on his feet in front of Sticks—the tremor of the impact from the man's massive weight made the ground wobble.

Gorgo raised his head, shiny with baldness. He wore aviator sunglasses that completely covered his eyes, and had thick, mean looking lips, though he had no jawline at all. He looked like a thumb. A very scary thumb. A thumb with attitude. A thumb with abs.

Sticks gulped, digging his hand into his pocket.

"CHARGE—!" His father shouted. The prisoners went on a full on assault, rolling over the guards in front of them in their escape.

Sticks could see the veins pulsing from Gorgo's absurdly thick, tattooed neck, every bit of the man's muscle bulging with power. Gorgo spat.

"You think you can run?"

Gorgo sounded like he had a flower for vocal chords. It was the voice of a little girl frolicking in the fields.

Suddenly, the giant worm curled up into the air, its monstrous form blocking the sun. The tip suddenly unfurled, revealing a horrifying mouth full of endless serrated teeth. It was a lamprey's mouth. A mouth full of death. Yikes, could you imagine being bit by something like that?! Needless to say, the sight of it was terrifying, but at least things were happening as his father said it would. All he needed to do now was aim—

The worm meeped, like a squeaky toy being squeezed, before diving down into a savage attack. Sticks tensed, readying himself, his fingers curling around the metallic ball in his pocket, but then the earthworm curved around him.

Oh no—!

Sticks whirled around, watching as the earthworm ignored him completely and went for his father and his army. Not at all according to plan—

"WHERE IS THAT FISH STIIIIIIICK—?!!"

Frantic, Sticks ran to the earthworm and tried to grab it—punch it—squeeze it—anything to get its attention. With a flick of its body, Sticks was sent flying, the metallic ball flying out of his hand and pocket.

"Oh. Want to play fetch?" Gorgo said, picking up the secret weapon his father had meticulously prepared for him, before crushing it with a flex of his forearms. He made a hiccupy, toddler's giggle, watching with satisfaction as Sticks's mouth dropped open in despair. The pieces of their secret weapon faded into dust.

Sticks heard the others screaming. The earthworm had slithered into the broken blast door and was now undoubtedly laying waste to the escapees inside.

DAD—?!

Sticks shrieked for them. A helpless, desperate scream of a defeated warrior. Only, 'warrior' was a little generous. He was no 'warrior'. Oh no, he was more like a bawling, pink faced, pudgy pubescent kid at a preschool playground who lost a game of hide-and-seek tag for the fifth time in a row—losing to a bunch of babies. AKA, he was pathetic. He had always been pathetic.

Without thinking, he charged.

He had failed. Again. But worse than that was the thought of losing his father—

Time seemed to slow the closer he came to Gorgo. He could see the man's fist coming towards him, but he seemed powerless to stop it. He couldn't move. Couldn't even muster the effort to dodge.

And so it came crashing against his face. So hard it was painless. Because everything that came after was black.