Capital City had a few hospitals. The first was large, dirty, and constructed next to the dungeon. In the past schlock was the only analgesic on hand, but now it was outlawed. Next up loomed the asylum in darkness, cracked paint, and lights that flickered with every administration of the electro-stone therapy going on inside. Here anybody too different was experimented on until they fit back into society like a well greased cog in the machine.

  On the other hand the royals had a membership only hospital. It was a crystal covered feat of engineering that sparkled inside the innermost castle walls. The floors inside shone blindly due to being polished every hour on the dot. Only the best treatments first tested on the undesirables and found safe were utilized. No civilization anywhere else could compete with such advanced medicine.

  A loud commotion in an operating room. A disheveled Prince cried out in pain holding a bloodied stump where his hand had previously been. It was cut off, pulverized with whatever remained of a humble ego destroyed by his ex-girlfriend. The nurses ran to subdue him as Edward retaliated by knocking over a cart. The fallen tray of "Eval" branded instruments that clanged a sad symphony on the floor. He slid out of a choke hold like a slippery eel and ran into a row of cabinets that fell on his face.

  "Smash!"

  Broken glass cracked underneath the hospital gown while a little fella fell out shriveled. The crunching beneath drew blood and mixed with orange potion from beakers as he continued rolling on the floor.

  “Calm down this tantrum at once! This is a disgrace, don't make me get the Queen,” said an older nurse in a scolding voice.

  “Grrrrrrrrrr,” Edward growled at them like a feral hog.

  He crawled forward with his hair disheveled while looking like a creature from the sewers. Another nurse ran in with a modified device originally invented to launch wet t-shirts at contests. She crouched aiming at the target.

  “Twunk!”

  A net was launched. Edward was tied up on the floor wriggling about. The nurses surrounded him with wooden crutches they had picked up off a nearby wall.

  “Let me have it ladies,” said Edward, winking.

  The nurses beat him with crutches, rolled newspapers, and one grabbed a spare wheelchair. Edward crawled forward slowly to position himself in a better spot for increased damage, and his eyes lit up in excitement. He had his last laugh before settling into a mischievous smirk that shone through even when biting into the rope that bound him.

  “Ewe the sick freak likes it,” said the male nurse, increasing his hits with the wheelchair to the head.

  “Get a jester in here immediately to record it, maybe we can shame him publicly," called another.

  “I can attach the new hand myself.. hand it over one day this will be my hospital remember if you want to live,” Edward screamed.

  “But it isn't yours yet,” said the elderly nurse.

  "Or will be ever outside your fantasies," sassed one girl that looked younger than him.

  "Hahaha," laughed the peanut gallery.

  "REEEE!" screamed the disorderly patient.

  While the nervous breakdown was in progress and orderly walked over to the cabinet that hadn’t been knocked over, and started taking things out. The first a long crystal cutting hook that snapped into a holder fit up for a hand stub. The prince smiled excitedly at his new attachment knowing that the only thing that could stop its super cut was similar crystal materials. A nurse removed the safety off a massive needle and filled the syringe with liquid. Edward began to quiver, shaking in fear.

  “I think he’s afraid of needles,” said the nurse laughing.

  “Let's catch him up on his shots, and tranquilizer,” shouted another.

  “I don't want to be sedated when I get out of here I will skin every one of you and anyone else unlucky enough to share your professions. I will burn each and every cursed hospital to the ground, and replace them with natural witchcraft healing centers. You are all subordinates,” Edward raged, with his voice wildly switching pitches.

  “Ah, another prince has injured themselves at the tournament? Very well,” said the top royal doctor entering the room.

  “A very naughty patient who needs a hook attached to his hand at once so he may be sent back into the wild where he belongs,” said a nurse.

  "He's lucky to have prince privileges," said another.

  “Hey get me some schlock I know you keep it in here” Edward screamed.

  A crowd whispering gathered around the doctor's ear while he ignored them studying a fresh clipboard.

  “Hmm well the head nurse tells me that for the splicing procedure you have opted to take elephant dosed shots of painkillers, and schlock in equal measure, but unfortunately it has been banned in the entire kingdom,” said the doctor.

  “Banned? Who is running this place, the jesters? Outlawing healthy natural schlock remedies that get you drunk for the sacrilegious big medical industry that turns you into sheep with spells blah," Edward spat.

  “Orders of the crown have banned certain substances My lord but we still have our ways,” said the doctor smiling.

  A bandaged stub seeped stuck out from a hole in the ropes. He sobbed at the loss of control he felt.

  "I must get out for the woman I still pin for. Nancy must still love me, and this is her gift for her signs of affection have always been macabre in nature," cried Edward, finally calming down due to a light head, and loss of blood.

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  He took out a massive book on operating off the shelf and split it in half like a deck of cards. The pages had been hollowed for hidden inside a cut out came an iron flask. Edward's dry lips were moistened through the netting.

  “Finally a drink to celebrate my replacement. It's all I've asked for, and more," he said, taking a swig through the holes.

  “Now take your painkiller baby,” said a nurse leaning in with the type of shot he hated.

  Edward fought against the net that surrounded him, but despite all the troubles could not manage to escape from it.

  “AAAA” he screamed in fear, his face white as ice, mouth frozen open in terror.

  The doctor took hold of the first of one hundred needles sticking into a jar. It came down pricking a vein while the captive shrieked. The mysterious liquid was pushed to mix with the Prince's blood. He tried to resist but was promptly put to sleep. With that done the doctor bent down with a scalpel and started cutting the rope net. A nurse ran in with the hand hook and dropped it beside them both on the cart

  The nurses took turns injecting him with more, and more needles full of liquids of all kinds of colored potion concoctions. The doctor picked up the hook and slapped it onto the hand with clamps. The nurses held it up as the doctor went, grabbing a torch with a small magma crystal on one end purple on the other. He lit it with a flint and began to weld the prince and his new hand together. The flesh and material melded together into one smelling of burning hairs. The prince dozed off in slumber unaware of the new deadly attachment, attached to him at the wrist.

  Edward awoke queasy on a cot, in his hospital office by his desk. His gown was wet from drops, and he needed a chamber pot at once. A passing servant outside the room helped him but from a distance, the sharp swinging hook practiced cutting the rags soon to be soiled.

  The next day the sun was shining out on the patio. A fresh intoxicating breeze was blowing smells only found in the middle of spring. Edward was eating crumpets and drinking black coffee. He reclined back in a chair under the gazebo by the ocean at his lair in the sand.

  “Son I hear you are set to be married again,” announced a voice from behind.

  Edward jumped into the air, and turned, knocking the rest of his crumpets to the ground. He gasped, nearly slicing his own neck, but instead cut the chairs fabric. He tumbled onto the floor burning himself all over with the pooling hot coffee. A pair of pajama pants with soiled winter boots squeaked over to his location

  "Ow that's hot," he gasped.

  King Mardin stood alone, before placing a boot on his chest. The Queen had lied about his demise.

  “Father you live,” said Edward.

  “Your mother has told me everything so I won’t beat around the bush. With a little persuasion I was able to get her on my side of the bed before we agreed together that the problem we created needs to be taken care of,” said Mardin leaning on the railing.

  “But if I win then I only have one more parent to lock up before I take the throne,” said Edward, suddenly springing into motion like a king snake.

  He dusted off sand found under the shade into his father's face, then rolled out of the cut of the sword that stabbed. He rose to battle the ruler for power madly swinging his fresh attachment.

  “Indeed, let's hope that I do my job properly so that my wife is not left alone to be terrorized by you, the demon child she has birthed. I can’t believe we had even considered divorce now that our paths are aligned again. We share the same goals for acquiring crystals,” said Mardin the 4th.

  That morning the King and Queen had awoken sleeping in the same bed again after a long time apart they had rekindled. He had surprised her by filling the dining room table with gifts. She had entered the room that had been set with a fancy surprise supper, candles, and graveyard potions brewing set with garlic, silver, spice, and everything nice (except schlock).

  King Mardin drew his large sword for the next attack. Edward lurched forward with his hook slashing at the chest drawing blood, while dodging the blade. The two men backed off from each other, circling around both looking for their next opening to attack.

  “We know now, son, that you’ve been helping someone steal from the center of the planet. We have been betrayed by our very own flesh and blood this entire time behind our backs. You didn't even share the technology for industrial teleportation that could have instantly advanced our kingdom in a hundred years. Don’t think you will ever escape here alive for this colossal betrayal,” said Mardin.

  Guards had swarmed in behind the king at some point. The fancy restaurant porch sat high up over the sea trapping the prince in. The only way out appeared to be jumping a thousand feet into the ocean, or murdering everyone here.

  “Not fair let me and him duel this one out. Just the two of us fighting domestically!” yelled Edward.

  The King stuck up his armored glove, stopping his soldiers from further advancing. Edward charged with a raised dagger, but Mardin swung his sword at the target who ducked at the last second taking a gash across the face. The dagger of the betrayer fell leaving only a purple hook, and one eye bleeding. The soldiers gathered round and laughed as the hooked madman tried to reach with his good arm that had now also been nicked. His injured eye no longer seeing clearly inflicted by the same blood flowing through his veins. Mardin had come determined to kill him.

  “You want somebody to throw you a sword to even out this fight boy. Haha It seems unfair with that freakish hook for a hand that will earn you no loyalty from normal men,” said the King as his guards continued to laugh.

  “We end this right here.. My rule happens or it doesn’t!” yelled Edward, charging again.

  “Just another son gone mad,” said Mardin, raising his sword.

  "Maybe check your pants," hissed the Prince.

  The King glanced at his belt buckle distracted for just a split second. The Prince deflected the first blow, parrying his father's blade putting him into defensive positioning. He went on the attack, but it was a fake instead Mardin was kneed in the family jewels. Edward instantly slashed across the throat ruthlessly drawing final blood. The crowd of soldiers gasped as if their King gargled the last sign of life.

  “Defeat due to dirty cheap shots,” somebody yelled.

  Gunfire cut off any further conversation. The dead body fell back as Edward tackled him pushing them both over a railing. The Knights swarmed to eliminate the assassin. Edward caught his hook below, and was swinging to higher ground. Soon he was over them to a distinct building holding on. He pulled himself up to a vent in the ceiling. The once prince growled crawling in on a mission to crown himself King.

  Prince Edward prowled the nearby streets until night unable to catch sight of Nancy or his mother. The sharp hook on his hand was still stained with blood from the slayed king. One of his eyes was a rage filled bloodshot orb fixated in the pursuit of power, and the other patched after he had been injured in the process of taking the crown that would soon hang over his head.

  Snaggy hid still behind a dumpster spying. The fool was out of sight for he cowered in fear for his life. This newly self declared king looked scary, and the future looked uncomfortable. Jesters were already an endangered profession in the kingdom now perhaps they would become hunted extinct. This prince had never seemed to enjoy intellectually stimulating entertainment like the 16-ball juggle or an exercise in fire breathing techniques.

  "Snaggy oh I can see you cowering there I need advice" said the man running forward, and slashing with the sharp hook on his hand.

  "AAAA" screamed the fleeing jester.

  Snaggy darted off a dark side street, before jumping into a taxi. The man who wished to crown himself king by morning walked along an empty city street in the dead of night looking for his next victim or anyone that would glaze him.