The heavy pounding sounds of metal bounce in echoes as Tin Man runs across the bleached-bone floor. Dual axes clenched in-between his rusted fingers he lunges forward swinging the shaved edges downwards. They make contact into the monster’s coarse haired kneecap. Hot thick blood eviscerates onto Tin Man coating him in a fresh paint. A wide paw grips around him and carries him up towards the ceiling making eye level with him, its ruby eyes narrowed while applying pressure with a calloused palm.
Lion, not too far behind, balances his speed from four legs to two. Grabbing Scarecrow he swings halfway and hurls him upwards before dropping back down to all fours. Scarecrow tumbles upon the wiry hairs and grabs a tuft of it to keep from sliding down. Salivating at the mere thought, he sinks his face into a tough piece of muscle and tears away, the bristles scratching his brown leathery face. Letting out a quakening roar the monster forces Tin Man into his mouth, chewing down with glazed fangs, a rustling sound of scrap metal being grinded leaks out from his mouth.
Lion jumps forward extending his claws, within feet of slicing into it he is thrust aside with a massive blow. Twisted claws tear into scarred flesh severing large slits into his belly and ribs. Colliding into the wall he drops down onto the ground and regains his stance in a stunned position, blood seeps out of his gashes, anger and adrenaline intertwine among his thoughts forcing the pain to stand on the sidelines. Quickly running across the rough floor he dives again towards the left ankle. His thick claws tear away a chunk bringing bone and shards of muscle to view.
The monster screams in agony, gripping Scarecrow this time he scours a sour face and blasts his hot breath onto his swaying body. Lion swings once more shattering the bone into pieces, his paw becoming broken itself from the sheer collision. Scarecrow is let loose sent spiraling towards the ground. He slams onto the floor and while swimming in oceans of pain he rolls over dodging the behemoth following his path. Dorothy loses her balance and topples to the ground as the giant collapses.
The ground rumbles in heavy quakes, the monster reaches for Lion slamming his hand down barely missing him. Lion dodges the attack and dives onto the belly running up to the throat. The beast tries to sit up but Lion swings with one paw catching loads of flesh into his one good hand. Pulling back he’s suddenly assisted by Scarecrow digging his fists into the fresh slit. Straining together in full force a geyser of blood shoots out of the throat, splattering onto its belly the liquid hits a swelling bump that slowly parts its ways. A axe pushes out followed by a second one flying the opposite direction. Bursting through wrapped in gushy entrails, Tin Man bounces up while the waterfall of blood showers him. The monster drops his head to the ground choking and sputtering.
Tin Man climbs out over the furry skin and slides down landing on the floor.
“Is this the best you have?” He yells.
A raspy voice is muffled behind a corner of the wall. Scarecrow bites down ripping a chunk of the monster’s forehead and begins to slurp the raw meat down while following the voice.
Dorothy trails behind hoping not to see anything else, but with a hard gut feeling she stays withing hearing distance in hopes of possibly hearing something blessed with hope.
Lion finds the entrance to a hallway behind a fake wall, it blended in with the background making it invisible at the time, yet his animal instincts drew him to the source. A crippled man sits in a idling wheelchair, his head bulbous and swollen, lonely gray strands of hair root out of his barren scalp.
“Let me eat him, I’ll make it slow,'” Scarecrow mutters. Lion extends his injured paw out tapping his belly and replies, “Let him speak, he may have answers.”
Tin Man slides his weapons into place and leans in, the man stares into his eyes with fear. “Are you the wizard?”
“You killed my guardian, truly only those who posses strength and courage could do so,” His voice was dry and in a crackled whisper, “I am the Wizard. You all seek something, a hatred burns in each of you, all desiring a different goal. Bring me the black staff of the wicked witch, and I shall make all of your dreams a reality.”
“Why should we believe you?” Dorothy asks from the back.
He turns his attention dividing the group and looks directly at her. “I’ve become what I am due to her works of black magic, with her staff comes power of darkness and pure sin. I’ve been kept prisoner by my guardian she assigned, it was not me warning you, but her subconscious thoughts spewed from the creature. I was a man of power and peace, she took over and drained me of energy and life, leaving me a shell filled with weakness. Bring me the staff and all shall be right again, you have my word.”
Dorothy thinks for a minute before saying “Where is she?”
“Beyond the dreaded fields behind the palace you’ll find her in the tower, but beware, many have entered yet none have came out.”
Tin Man glides his axes out and says, “Let’s end this.”