The zeppelin fleet reached cruising altitude. Killin Hood relaxed with his feet propped up while reading a newspaper. The lounge's onboard small oval room was full of no smoking signs and limited furniture. His lab was bookmarked behind the case of aluminum secret entry to a pressurized room. Also aboard was the pilots cabin plus their chambers then the king-size bedroom company store was in another section that served dessert. This ship was fully loaded.
He set down the entertainment to finish the plotting for the rapidly approaching incoming bash of a wedding. After the hostile takeover of the kingdom was completed royal skulls would be hacked as the victory lap. And finally there would be a wedding between the last two royals remaining and after the procedure he happened to be one.
“Let’s see what am I missing?” wondered Killin Hood, stroking his comically chiseled jaw.
So far his list consisted of:
1. Mail invitations to the baddest beings with the biggest body counts on the planet. (Done).
2. Book a big band swing, and swingers. (check).
3. A massive wedding cake composed of sugar, spice, and evil ingredients. This one was tricky because a cake that large needed to be baked by a specialty baker, and there was only one on the entire planet, but they would only bake with good ingredients.
4. Take the baker’s family hostage until they comply with my demands (easy).
5. Prepare the royal feast of the last of the frozen meat that me and the boys have hunted to extinction making it super desirable and fancy by accident.
6. Get decor like the cut off heads of the slain royals on spikes for decoration, while the most famous of them remaining would be stuffed just like all his other prize critters.
7. Get the one of a kind ring for my precious.
“Mmmm what else?” he thought, lounging deep in the chair while the thoughts continued flying at him.
There was something else that was needed to complete the wedding. Damn his mind was still foggy after the heart transplant, but he knew he was missing something very important. Farc he should have written it down. If only being boss of the Killin company didn’t require working for 3,4500 hours a week.
The door slid aside, and the former Queen Elizabethy entered automatically. She lumbered forward with her jet-pack removed in order to not blow up the zeppelin in a misfire. She was in a trance like slumber. Killin Hood had to stop himself rising to greet her due to the filled fluid tubes hidden under his suit tying him to the chair.
“Alas dear we have another thing in common being two medical experiments,” he said, adjusting the blood bag hung on one side of him.
She remained silent. A slack-jawed face painted with a fresh coat of makeup, and her tits barely holstered. He looked her over with the intensity of a hungry predator licking his lips and finding them dry, finally he stuck a finger into a small leak dripping from the bag. Now they both had bright red lipstick.
Killin Hood flicked the half empty rainbow colored drip on the other to make sure it was working.
“This Killin Company super-vitamin drip has magic ingredients that will have me recover from the operation in record time baby. One of many amazing creations brewed and bottled by my main witch and it’s the shit,” explained Killin Hood, practicing his advertiser voice for when he would inherit the kingdom's supply chains for his own devices.
“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” he asked, before beckoning to her by blowing a dog whistle.
She remained silent, but started giving him a lap dance. He sunk back in the aluminum recliner covered with furs and sighed feeling like the man. He slapped her with the firm but playfulness of a master. He reached for the coffee table and knocked off his mug while his sausage fingers searched in vain for the remote to his toy. He didn't find what he was looking for and started growling feeling up the crevices on the recliner instead of his bride. His lab came alive and matched his tone from the other room while his socks got wet inside his sandals from the spilled liquid.
“GRRR! Of fucking course I forgot to turn off the timed industrial blender in the mini laboratory,” he raged, pushing her off him with his whole face turned red like a tomato.
A bell dinged and the fingers hit their target as the blending stopped.
“Ahh,” he cried gleefully, holding the remote to his bride and clicking unmute.
“Wanna date?” she blurted.
“No, there won’t be any more courting here dear and our love at first sight is stronger for that. This will be a shotgun wedding because you are already mind controlled forever,” he said, rising.
“Got any crystals?” she asked, playing with his rock hard codpiece of the same materials.
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“Yes hahaha zillions of them. Ahem well some of them are yours for now but once we are married we will share the entire stockpile together,” he said, pressing the forward button a few times to draw her closer.
Killin Hood began to stroke her unloving face up-close while the makeup ran away from him. A massive tear escaped from the duct of a TV eyed cyborg woman. It fell on her captor who looked up in surprise.
“Awww what’s wrong honey,” he smiled below a large mustache creepily pricking her peach fuzz.
He caught the tear cupped in his hands and drank it and suddenly the thought that had evaded the hunter all night charged into his crosshairs.
“That’s it we need some booze.. I gotta call my witch again to make sure she had that tanker full of juice captured.”
“I want crystals not schlock,” said Elizabethy, stomping down her foot threatening to pop the vessel.
Her fiance loudly clicked the mute button and sent her to the corner to wait on pause.
“It's a shipment of jungle juice we were after dear, and It better have been successfully taken by my goons. You see that shit is rarer than super cracked crystals the going extinct dwarves manufacture,” he said, looking sternly around the room for answers.
His lab emerged from the shadows on four paws with something in its mouth. The beast dropped a slimy banana in the master's lap. It circled the feet before lapping up the spilled milk.
“Ahh good boy I don’t even have to whistle to you,” said Killin Hood, unwrapping the banana.
He revealed a keypad in the fruity device and a terp crystal antenna popped out where the edible innards should have been housed. He started typing and it was ringing in no time. Isabella picked up on the other side with an enormous coughing fit. Killin Hood angled the loudness at his bride to be and mouthed a complaint she didn’t care to understand.
“Sorry boss. Are you married yet I want to make it?” said Isabella, finally calming herself.
“No, I’m calling to make sure that shipment of jungle juice I assume we captured awhile ago has started en route to our wedding ceremony,” he said. .
“Gulp,” replied Isabela.
“... Well Is it destroyed?” yelled KIllin Hood.
“I think so but maybe I can brew some mo…”
“NO counterfeit shit I want the real deal for my wedding, " he said, slamming the table. “I guess you're going on an expedition. So witch pack your bags,” he hissed.
“But I'm supposed to watch the fort and mines while you're away,” she said.
“Those video feeds can be watched remotely if you bring your balls,” he said.
“Ok. I will fly to the desert first for a scout for the truck we had killed, and then head to the jungle if that tanker was drained during the firefight hehehe.”
“Good,” said Killin Hood.
“click/” the phone was hung up.
Capital city was in disarray. After King Edward had disappeared after his mother the place was a mess. D.D.P. had broken up, and was suing each other for royalties, as well as who got to be King next. Roger had wanted the crown for himself so he was locked in the dungeon, and kicked out of the band. This severely stung the cannibal who vowed to get his revenge on the others.
Luckily he had an agent in town. The secretive figure visited him in his dreams as an old hag who promised a lucrative solo career, and all that jazz. He had later found the key to his cell under his pillow after a wet dream. Now the cell door was open, the guards were dead, and Roger stalked the halls looking for a snack.
The city streets were dead as the zeppelins circled like vultures overhead. Killin Hood’s ship was the first to descend, docking without a shot fired. He unhooked the emptied medical bags to a new man. He grabbed his suitcases, and departed with his Queen and lab in tow.
A loud four to the flour beat greeted him with applause of clapping guards and nobles waiting outside. The party turned into a parade through the streets as confetti rained. He did a two step by the bus stop where he kissed babies, and shook hands.
The palace doors blew open, revealing an empty throne room. A massive crystal ball was hoisted to the ceiling, and an illuminated rug of squares was rolled across the floor. Killin Hood kept on dancing with his most talented henchman snapping into it behind him. He removed his tie, as somebody started break dancing in the background. There were girls covered in nothing but crystal dust rollerblading out of the shadows joining the action. The King to be boogied over to his Queen, and took her hands. After pressing her buttons she began to bust a move too.
A record scratch cut the action off as soon as it had started. Roger stood in the doorway with an army of guards still loyal behind him.
“What is this shit! Who do you think you are?” he screeched.
“Sorry that you weren’t invited, kid,” replied Killin Hood, dropping his bride's hand.
“The rest of my family may have fled, but I'm gonna put a stop to this shame myself,” said Roger, cracking his knuckles.
“Boy don’t you see your mommy right here, you're gonna be my step-son soon.” laughed Killin Hood.
“Not if you're dead. Knights and guards still loyal get him!” Roger commanded, pointing forward.
The guards momentarily hesitated before they started inching forward with drawn weapons. Roger aimed his pistol at the grinning Killin Hood who remained undisturbed by it.
“Bang.”
“Pop!”
An instant pink mist popped like bubble gum. The bullet was easily deflected by an automatic defensive bubble emerging from the cyborg Queen.
“Now it’s time to breastfeed again you baby,” said Killin Hood,
He pressed a button and the defensive field disappeared. He pressed another button and bra straps unlatched revealing two big guns.
“Bang,bang,bang,bang,bang,bang,bang,bang,bang,bang.”
The barrels might have been flopping but the aim was steady as fuck. The party resumed raging while the dead remained on the dance floor. Queen Elizabethy’s chest remained smoking a long time after being forced to slay her spawn.