The four wheels of a surgical cart squeaked down a dark hallway. On the walls portraits hung of ill-defined figures covered in dust and cobwebs. A whistling turned to a hum. The man wheeling the operating table wore red stained surgery clothing, while the sheets covering the table were fresh linen.

There was the smell of chemicals, mint, and sickly sweet syrup covering more up. The shotgun doors banged open revealing a lab.

“Ahh my favorite dog,” said Killin Hood.

“Woof,” said the dog, licking its long tongue at the side of the moving cart.

A bloodied stump fell towards the floor as the beast cleaned it off.

“Hahaha,” laughed the professional of death.

The next doors burst open revealing a laboratory full of tools of the trade, and other instruments for performing operations. There were two iceboxes and an abacus sitting behind the second royal being experimented on. In another corner of the room a contraption that looked like a throne mixed with an electric chair sat empty in front of a rear tank like a toilet reservoir, but this one was meant for blood. The dialysis tubes ran to the arms caked inside with residue from a previous procedure. An industrial claw arm on a swivel would soon hold a royal heart in its grip for a future step of the procedure.

“Oh goody Boss back to finish the procedure, by the way I got a surprise for you,” said Isabella, who hadn’t taken her eyes off the zigzag stitches she was finishing.

“It’s not a surprise if you tell me all about it first,” he said.

The witch groaned, struggling to pull herself from a lounging chair wearing a sleeping gown. A crystal ball sat on a long table. It was providing a live stream of a firefight while nestled between the sewing machines, and piles of cut leather chunks piled high. She unhooked a cane off a row of hooks next to a hung modified hook system, and her witch's hat which she put on next.

Thunder rumbled the sky and shook the walls sparking through the tower protruding through the opened ceiling. The torrential rain pounded the stone floor, mixing with red blood cells running together into a drain in the center of the room. The cart wheels stopped moving and a foot clad in baby seal skin locked the brakes shut one by one.

“Have the loose threads been pruned dear?” asked Killin Hood.

“I haven’t checked again recently, let me see,” said Isabella, covering her mouth to cough. “Hmm excuse me, but they will be soon”.

She hobbled to the closest table, and threw open the covers. Edward breathed heavily struggling for air in his underwear. A large incision was cut into his chest where his heart had been pillaged of his royal blood. He now slept in a never ending nightmare with both eyes closed.

“Wakey wakey hehehe,” she cackled, while poking the bare feet containing ingrown chunks of crystal. “Soon he will mine for us with no mind of his own.”

“Good one but first it’s time to show off my Queen, and her newest installed hardware,” laughed Killin Hood.

He walked to the second table giddy with anticipation.

“Well I hope she's as brain damaged as your preferences are in women,” said Isabella.

“We will find out when she wakes up, and anyhow there’s always the same lobotomy procedure given to her freak son to cure any disobedience against me,” said Killin Hood, uncurling the covers.

“Hehe while you were gone I also increased the size of her lumps ten fold, and added hidden guns in them as well as armoring the buttocks with a thick lift,” said Isabella.

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She switched patients, patting her boney fingers over Edward’s disfigured face. “This one used to be so handsome, kinda a shame what you did to him.”

“Now, now dear don’t feel bad for he did that to himself and remember our plans relied on him not being as ruthless as he was billed,” said Killin Hood, not looking away from staring at the Queen.

“I meant purely in a superficial way,” she croaked, heading to Killin Hood’s side at the Queen's autopsy bed.

Her chest remained frozen with her frozen heart re-installed inside. Her red lipstick curled into fangs while her eyes remained hidden under the visor of a cyborg helmet. Thick power cables ran over thicker stitches sewn over the body to sparking blocks of crystal. A saw had been welded to one arm, but the chain had yet to be installed.

“Time to flip the switch?” asked Isabella, rising from Edwards' body.

“Yes, turn her on for I already am,” said Killin Hood, rubbing his sausage fingers together.

Isabella hobbled over to a giant power switch stuck into the wall. She grabbed hold of the massive lever, while gritting what remained of her rotten teeth for what was to come. The rain continued to pour like cats and dogs outside. The rest of the room grew quiet except from the occasional spark from the battery banks.

Everything remained as time drew on. Killin Hood impatiently glanced at his stopwatch, and the crystal ball in the corner. On the screen was a direct feed from the gyro-copter turning around in the air. A flash of blue averted his eyes to the sky that began to rumble with power.

“C’mon big money,” prayed Isebella.

Another flash blinded the room as the energy surged into the point it had been drawn. The witch flicked the switch as sparks flowed from the tower to the connecting cables. The candles were snuffed as the Queen's skeleton became visible under her armaments coming alive on the throne of power. The boney figure became even more pronounced under flesh as the cyborg rose to sit upright on the operating table. The smoke filled the room while burnt hairs singed and popped. Elizabeth’s mask jolted and hummed glowing with the energy of three suns. The room spun around like a top strobing the lights from her eye sockets that looked like lasers. In the background items not bolted down bounced around. The door flew open revealing nothing.

The process was over as soon as it started. Isabella collapsed in the corner looking dead.

“ZAAAP!”

Killin Hood descended on his assistant witch with a defibrillator connected to the operation.

“That heart was 25 or so when we installed it in you many years ago, I think it might be getting close to a replacement,” he said, handing her a cup of tea.

“Well you know that I am extremely picky,” Isabella laughed, sitting against the stone wall she took a big swig of the hot liquid.

The thunder flashed again and then the lights went out. Killin Hood turned as a feeling of paranoia began to grow.

“I thought my Queen was supposed to remain glowing in the dark at all hours. Hey where's the matches let's get the candles going again to see,” he barked, fumbling into the dog that growled with the thunder above.

“Get my crystal ball,” croaked Isabella, unable to get up where she had fallen.

“Oh right, why is that dark too? I can't see a thing. Oof.”

A loud crash and a bang followed by curses. Isabella clapped two times and the firefight resumed on the crystal ball illuminating the lab who had fetched it in its mouth. Killin Hood lay looking pissed off with a foot stubbed.

"Good dog, sigh I really gotta figure out how to disable the screensaver," she mumbled.

“Bring it here Fido,” instructed Killin Hood retrieving the crystal ball from his dog.

He flicked off the live feed of the gyrocopter in action. The pilot was popping the pin on his next grenade overhead the big rig. On the grounds swirling below, the rest of the Killin company boxed in the target. Without warning the crystal ball switched to bright mode that lit the room like it was daylight. Killin Hood covered his eyes as Isabella gasped before covering her mouth.

“What is it now?” yelled Killin Hood, beginning to turn.

“Master your Queen is gone, escaped,” Isabella gulped, almost taking an object to the dome.

"Get on the cameras and find her. It seems I still have the hard work of training her like my other animals, nothing ever comes easy," he grumbled.

The witch caught the airborne crystal ball by instinct. Killin Hood was already out of the room with his dog following his lead. Edward’s voice wheezed alive under sheets. He breathed air forced through a tube hidden under the covers, whilst his replacement blood began to slowly flow replacing his dried veins.

“Shh, rockabilly baby on come down, when the sea surfs the cradle will rock, when the bow breaks the cradle will fall, Down tumbles drowning baby,” Isabella sung.

Edward tried to fight the sleep, but it was inevitable magical anesthesia. His eyes rolled over in the back of his head where he escaped to another dreamlike dimension.