[Spoiler Warning: This story makes reference to the plot of the first four games in the Shantae series, including major spoilers for Risky's Revenge and Pirate's Curse.]

Tale 1

"Sharks and Minnows"

With eyes closed, Shantae danced her way up the Scuttle Town streets to a beat silent to all but her.

She twisted and twirled, oblivious to the sideways glances of each passerby, until she reached the edge of town where a rickety wood bridge stood between her and her lighthouse home. When she finally opened her eyes, Shantae was greeted by clear sky and sparkling ocean that met at the serene horizon.

Taken by the beauty of her view, Shantae almost failed to notice the zombie clinging to the window above the door of her lighthouse.

"Rottytops!" Shantae shouted.

Startled, the zombie tumbled backwards. She landed lying face-up on the dirt path just in front of the lighthouse steps. By the time Rottytops regained her senses, Shantae was standing over her with arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

"What's the big idea?" Rottytops said with a pout as she clambered back to her feet.

"Big idea!? You were just trying to break in to my house!"

"You've never had a problem with it before!"

"I never knew there was a before!"

"What? How could you not remember?" Rottytops trailed off into thought for a moment. "Oh! I know!" she said, bouncing on her toes, "it's because I broke in when you were asleep!" She laughed, unaware of Shantae's glare. "So, of course you wouldn't remember! That makes sense now."

Shantae closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm just going to pretend I never heard that." She shook her head before looking up at the window above her lighthouse door. "Why were you trying to get into my place anyway?"

"To see what kind of goodies you've got hiding from me in there, of course! Like that old oil lamp I saw through the window . . ." Rottytops said with a devilish grin, "I could use it to make you my very own Genie! Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Don't joke about that, Rotty! It's not funny . . . and the Lamp doesn't work that way on half-Genies, so tough cookies . . ."

"Oh, man . . . I could've wished for a never-ending supply of brains . . . the smart ones, too! Those are the juiciest . . ."

"OK, gross. How about we settle for a nice cup of coffee? I stocked up on some Sequin Land Select Dark Almond Roast—all for you! Because I'm just that good of a friend."

"Coffee? Nah," Rottytops said, looking down at her feet.

"Seriously? I've never heard you turn down coffee before. Are you sick or something? Do zombies even get sick?"

Rottytops gasped. "No, I think you're right!" She slumped back to the ground dramatically. "Oh! Help me! I'm dying . . . again! Dying of boredom! Entertain me, Genie girl! It's the only . . . way to . . . save me . . ."

Shantae rolled her eyes but couldn't stop herself from giggling at the sight of her undead friend playing dead. "Unfortunately," Shantae said as she pulled Rottytops to her feet, "I'm just as bored as you. Things have been as dull as dirt since Uncle's been away . . ."

Rottytops cocked her head to the side. "Away? What do you mean?"

"He's been on an expedition, and he's not coming back until next week."

"Really?" said Rottytops, resting her chin on her hand, "that's strange. Because I could've sworn I saw the old man in town yesterday . . ."

"What? Yesterday?"

"Yup. In the Item Shop. Talking to the Item Shop Guy."

"That's—that can't be. Are you sure—"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Your uncle isn't exactly difficult to pick out of a crowd, you know."

"But . . . why would he not . . . come see me?" Shantae said. For a moment, her pointed ears drooped just a bit. Then a sudden wave of heat began to spread over her body. Her eyebrows lowered. "He's up to something again. I just know he is!" The heat reached Shantae's head, flushing her face and blurring her vision. With fists clenched, she spoke in a fierce tone that left Rottytops captivated and speechless. "Every single time he goes on an 'expedition,' he comes back thinking he's found the answer to all of humanity's problems. But what he's really found is something to add to humanity's problems. Like one time, he found blueprints for something called a 'deep fryer.' It was supposed to fry food. Did the one he build fry food? Yes. Yes, it did . . . along with half of the townspeople. And who had to stop it before things got extra crispy? Me! Just like I have to do with every cursed, demonic, mechanical and/or organic monstrosity that he lets loose upon this town!"

"Wow . . ." Rottytops said, staring open-mouthed at Shantae.

Shantae shook her head, forcing the haze to release its hold over her sight. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what just—"

"Sorry? No, no, no!" Rottytops shouted, waving her hands furiously, "don't be sorry! Don't stop now! I want—no, I need more of this!"

"More of what?"

"You. Angry. It's . . . wonderful."

"Why do you always have to make things weird? And why are you acting like you've never seen me angry before?"

"Because I haven't. I mean, not really. Usually, your anger just makes you look more cute and adorable."

"Cute and—what?" Shantae said, crinkling her face, "I'll have you know that I am a fearsome warrior! I've defeated lots of—of terrifying beasts! Like those crab guys . . . and the . . . starfish-looking . . . things . . . OK, maybe those aren't the best examples. But I am not cute and adorable!"

"Stop kidding yourself! You know you are!"

Shantae threw her hands up. "OK! OK! You're right! I've become insufferably cute and adorable! It's the worst! What do I do? When my uncle shows his face, I want him to know that I'm mad!"

"Then you've got to dig down and find that ugly anger! That strong, raw, stanky anger!"

"Will you help me? Please? Help me find the ugly, stanky anger!"

"You clearly have it in you already! You showed it just then! All you need is some practice letting it out!"

"Practice, huh? Yeah . . . yeah, all right! Let's do it! What's our plan?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that! I've got the perfect plan, marzipan—"

"Marzipan?"

"Step 1: We find ourselves a suitable test dummy to practice on. Show him who's boss. Step 2: We track down your uncle and corner him! Why should you have to wait to give him a taste of that new brand of Shantae Fury?"

"I like everything you just said. But who's a suitable test dummy? Bolo?"

"Too easy. He'd start crying within the first five minutes. No, I've got the perfect dummy in mind—the Item Shop Guy! He was the last person to talk to your uncle, right? So, what better way to practice your anger game then by pressing him for information about Mimic's whereabouts?"

Shantae's eyes narrowed. "Someone should call the Royal Guard. Because your plan is too good to be legal."

"What else would you expect from yours truly?" Rottytops said with a wink.

Rottytops peered out from the alley across the way from the Item Shop. "OK," she said in a whisper, "looks like he's the only one in there. This is perfect!" She turned back to Shantae, grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eyes. "Shantae, listen—"

"Why are you so sweaty?" Shantae said, squirming out from Rottytops's clammy hands.

"Forget about that!" Rottytops glowered. "Stop being a butt and let me motivate you!"

"OK. I'm sorry. Please, continue."

Rottytops cleared her throat. "Shantae, you . . . are like a phoenix—well, right now you're more like a dead phoenix—"

"What?"

"You know . . . the ashes and all that? . . . never mind. What I'm trying to say is that you've got to find the phoenix that's, uh . . . inside your . . . heart or whatever. Let that sucker loose, you know? It wants to be free and fly around and set things on fire! . . . So, tell me . . . can you be that phoenix, Shantae?"

"Wait—I thought the phoenix was inside my heart? Now I'm the phoenix?"

"It—It's both, OK? It doesn't matter—"

"I'm not the dead one though, right?"

"No! You're the fire—the one that sets things on fire!"

"Oh, I got you. Yeah, I can set stuff on fire if I want."

"Not what I asked. But good enough for me. Let's get this show on the road."

Inside the Item Shop, the owner stood patiently awaiting his next customer. He caught sight of two figures that blotted out the setting sun as they crossed his doorway. Shantae and Rottytops marched forward, shoulder-to-shoulder, until they faced the owner up close.

"You there!" said Rottytops, "Mr. Item Shop Guy!"

"Yes? How can I help you today?" he asked, wearing his trademark smile.

Rottytops laughed. "Help us? The only one here who needs help is you!"

"I do?" said the shop owner, blinking, "what do I need help with?"

"Life!" Shantae proclaimed, pointing her finger in the shop owner's face, "because yours is about to get a lot more icky if you don't tell us what we need to know!"

"Is this about the hair conditioner again?" the Item Shop Guy asked with slumped shoulders. "I really can't sell you more than three bottles at a time, Shantae. I have to keep some in stock, or the rest of the town will go unconditioned!"

"Well, I probably have more hair than the rest of the town put together! So, I think I have the right to—" Shantae paused after receiving a nudge from Rottytops. "Oh, sorry. That's, uh, not actually why we're here . . ."

"Tell us what Mimic was up to in here yesterday," Rottytops said with her hands on her hips.

"Mimic?" the Item Shop Guy muttered, scratching his head, "I think . . . he bought some . . . things! Like a bunch of . . . metal . . . things."

Shantae stared blankly at him for a moment. "A bunch of metal things. . . ? Could you maybe be a bit more specific?"

"Well, to be honest, I don't know the names of some of the things I sell . . . a lot of the things I sell."

Suddenly, Rottytops doubled over coughing. The other two looked at her in concern until she popped back up and said, "Oh, sorry. I tend to get sick when I'm around lies!"

Shantae's eyes lit up. "Whoa!" she whispered.

"You saw what I did there?" Rottytops said in a raspy voice.

"Yeah! That was incredible! You should be an actor or something! I'm not even joking!"

Rottytops massaged her neck before letting out a short laugh. "I've always imagined myself as a stunt double."

The shop owner cleared his throat loud enough for them to hear. "Uh, am I supposed to be part of this conversation, or—"

"No!" Shantae shot back, "but now you are! So, it's time for you to cough—cough up the truth! What's the real deal with these 'metal things,' huh?"

"I'm being honest! I don't know, really! I'm sorry! I draw a blank when it comes to itemization . . . like that—" The Item Shop Guy pointed up at the giant bones of a creature hanging suspended in the air by a series of ropes. "No clue what that thing is . . . or was! Or where it came from! It was just kind of hanging there one day . . ."

Rottytops rolled her eyes. "All right! All right! You probably shouldn't be allowed to sell things to people. We get it! Now, can you at least say where Mimic was going with this junk?"

"He didn't tell me . . ."

"Well, what did he tell you?" Shantae asked with frustration building in her voice, "you had to have talked about something . . ."

"Oh, sure. We talked about the weather for a bit . . . how business has been . . . that sort of deal. He mentioned something about this super-powerful, highly combustible thingy . . . and then he bought his metal stuff and left."

"Wait, back up! A super-powerful what?" Shantae asked, slack-jawed.

"Highly combustible thingy," the Item Shop Guy said, "sounds cool, right?"

"No! It sounds incredibly dangerous! I mean, calling it a 'thingy' kind of undermines the sense of danger a bit . . . but it's definitely not cool!" Shantae shouted. "Why didn't you tell me—your Guardian Genie—about this, huh?"

"Tell you? Why would I need to tell you? I mean, he's your uncle, right? So, doesn't he tell you about this sort of thing himself?"

The Item Shop owner's words cut into Shantae. Noticing this, Rottytops quickly made her move. "This is your chance," she whispered into her ear, "it's billowing up inside. Don't hold it back! Let it loose! All of it!"

With Rottytops fanning the flames, Shantae's blood quickly reached a boil. She closed her eyes. Gritted her teeth. And, by the time her eyes opened, so too did whatever kept the anger within her at bay.

"You're right," Shantae said, "he is my uncle. But, no. He doesn't tell me about this sort of thing. He doesn't tell me just about anything as a matter of fact." Shantae's voice steadily grew louder and more tense with each syllable that passed her lips. "Not about the Genies. My mother. My father. Not about these secrets. Like the Lamp . . . that Lamp . . ."

Her vision became clouded. She, for a moment, could vaguely sense Rottytops and the Item Shop owner backing away from her. But then, she was alone. Everything around her dissolved behind a thick wall of fog as the heat surged through her veins and the words crept out from somewhere in her mind that she never knew existed.

"Maybe if he'd just told me something—anything—about it, I could've found a way . . . maybe I could've stopped it all from happening. All that pain." She pressed a hand against her heart. "Do you—do you know what it feels like to be ripped apart? . . . I do . . . I can still feel it. Even after all this time. I still feel the tear. It hasn't healed. I don't know if it ever will."

Shantae felt the world begin to spin.

"But he doesn't need to feel guilty. Guilty that I'm paying the price for his secrets. His mistakes. No . . . he doesn't need to. Because I don't need his apologies. I don't need his excuses. I—I don't need him!"

The fog wound into a cyclone that spun faster and faster around her. She wanted to run, to make it stop, but that distant corner of her mind had seized all control and kept her anchored in place.

"I don't need him! So—so why am I here? Why do I care what he's doing? Why do I need to tell him how I feel? Why is he even a part of my life?"

With those words, a chill ran down her spine, extinguishing all her anger in an instant. The world stopped spinning. Shantae could see again, but her vision remained blurry. She blinked, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. When she did, her eyes first caught sight of the Item Shop owner. Shantae expected to find him staring at her in horror, but to her surprise, he had his gaze fixed on something else. Something behind her. She spun around to see her uncle standing in the doorway.

Shantae froze under his shadow.

"I've never found the words," he said, "words that could possibly describe how amazing you are, Shantae. You deserve a world that's so much better than this. A world without me holding you back. So . . . it's time that I do something right . . . for you. . . . It's time that I let you go."

Still petrified, Shantae could do nothing but watch her uncle's shadow fade from view.

Shantae didn't know how much time had passed before she finally recovered enough feeling to move her body; yet, her head remained numb. She only had the mind to follow her instincts, and her first instinct was to turn back to Rottytops.

But she wasn't there.

"R-Rottytops?" Shantae muttered, spinning about before her eyes finally landed on the shop owner. He recoiled from her gaze. "Where did my friend go?"

"Sh-she ducked out back," he answered, pointing behind him, "she wasn't looking so good, either . . ."

"What—what do you mean?" Shantae asked, pressing both her hands against her head, hoping to push out the fog still clouding her mind. The Item Shop owner said something in response, but the fog was too dense. His words were lost to her. Wasting no more time, Shantae burst out the back door of the shop.

Dusk had fallen, and the streets were now vacant. Only the erratic shuffle of Shantae's footsteps interrupted the silence.

While the image of Mimic's shadow still loomed large, Shantae's mind slowly grew clearer now that her focus was narrowed onto nothing more than finding her friend. To Shantae's surprise, her search didn't last long.

Rottytops was huddled against the wall of a dark alleyway just a few blocks away from the shop.

"Rotty . . . are you okay?" she asked, approaching her slowly.

"That—that was amazing!" Rottytops blurted out in an uneven tone, "you—you did it! You finally let that old man know what's what! It must feel good. It must—it must feel great."

Now that she was close enough, Shantae could hear Rottytops gasping for air. Her body, teeming with sweat, trembled without end.

"Rotty—"

"I-I mean you have to see—you have to get it now, right?"

"Get—get what?"

Rottytops finally turned around to face her. As their eyes met, a crescent-shaped smile spread across Rottytops's sunken face. "That . . ." she said, pointing in the direction of the shop, "that back there . . . that's the real you! You've been keeping her locked away all this time! You've got to see that now, right?"

"No," Shantae answered, shrinking back, "no, look, I-I got carried away. I shouldn't have—I didn't mean all that. That's not the real me."

Suddenly, Rottytops's breathing came to a halt. Her smile vanished. "Answer me something . . ." she said, sliding a bit further along the wall to lessen the gap between them, "do you still blame me?"

Shantae fidgeted under Rottytops's stare. "Blame you. . . ? Blame you for what?"

"For what happened . . . with the Lamp. Do you still blame me for what I did, too?"

"The Lamp—oh, no . . . no, Rottytops just because I mentioned it back there doesn't mean—"

Rottytops let out a laugh that quickly turned into deep coughing. She buckled over, nearly collapsing to the ground. Shantae grabbed her to keep her on her feet. "Rotty, I-I don't know what's going on, but something's not right with you! We've got to get you back home and—"

Rottytops pulled herself free from Shantae's grasp and staggered backwards. Leaning on her knees, she glared up at Shantae and spat, "You can't be serious! After what I did? You shouldn't just blame me! You should—you should hate me!"

"H-Hate you? Rottytops, I don't—"

"You don't hate me? Why? Because you think I was that sweet-, innocent-looking human girl with the glasses? That's who you see me as, isn't it?"

Shantae's stomach lurched. "How did you know about—"

"Well, here's the thing . . . I'm not that girl. I'm a zombie . . . a zombie, Shantae. I eat human flesh. People fear me. They should fear you, too." A crooked smile returned to Rottytops's face. She stumbled a few feet closer to Shantae, who then backed away instinctively.

"R-Rotty . . . please—" Shantae said. Her heart raced, head pounding, as burning tears welled up in her eyes.

"You know, I've been thinking," Rottytops said, convulsing as she let a few silent laughs escape, "about before. You said that Lamp can't trap a half-Genie . . . but they've got you trapped . . . under their control. All they have to do is make a wish, and you'll do a cute, little dance for them! No one needs to worry! To take any responsibility for themselves. For their lies. Their deceit. Not when that half-Genie girl is there to make it all go away!"

As Rottytops frothed at the mouth, Shantae's fear evaporated. In its place roared a stinging heat. The burning tears, now running down her cheeks, were matched by a burning in her clenched fists that grew hotter by the second.

"So, I guess you're not really any different from a Genie enslaved by some oil lamp. The only difference is that your Lamp happens to be a lighthouse—"

"Enough!" Shantae screamed, sparking her hands aflame, "stop this, Rottytops! Stop it, right now!"

Rottytops paused to look at the fire in awe before meeting Shantae's glare once again with a twisted grin. "Here she is . . . just who I've been waiting for!"

Shantae didn't know how to respond. Rottytops, drawn to the flames, inched closer until Shantae held up her fists in warning.

"You can't stay hidden away forever, you know," Rottytops said as her smile slowly faded, "you can try. But deep down—you and I—we're predators. Predators who've been forced to play as prey. And what's that gotten us? Looked down upon . . . cast aside . . . used. But I . . . I won't take any more . . ." Her eyes bore into Shantae's. "What's it going to take for you to finally say the same?"

Shantae broke eye contact with Rottytops to look down at the fire in her trembling hands. By the time she looked back up, the zombie was gone.