CWCollateral: A Tale of the Resistance

by Manajerkop

What happens when innocent bystanders get fed up with enduring the fallout from Sonichu's zappin' adventures? REVOLUTION, that's what! Experience Sonichu from a whole new perspective, as the PVCC fights to end the tyranny of Christian Weston Chandler.

18. Chapter 13: End of the Line

CWCollateral: A Tale of the Resistance

by Manajerkop

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Chapter 13: End of the Line

February 24, 2009, west CWCville, subdivisions, 14 Brunchville Lane, 6:30 p.m., Christian Love Day

Sonichu and Rosechu stood hand in hand by the window, gazing out at the silent, snow-covered city beyond their house. It had been a peaceful evening, and the children were all playing with Heather in the living room to give the lovehogs a well-earned bit of free time to spend in each other's company. Rosechu knew it had been a long, hard, stressful day of dealing with the remnants of the shattered PVCC, but in the end, three jerk traitors had been captured due to her hubby-bolt's heroics. Bubbles was probably helping to un-brainwash them right now.

"Isn't it wonderful, heartsweet?" Sonichu sighed wistfully. "The very first Christian Love Day in history. At last, Father is finally free to continue his Love Quest. Mary Lee Walsh is safely behind bars; she will not stop him from finding a nice boyfriend-free girl anymore!"

"Oh, how wonderful!" replied Rosechu. "And after all these years of stress, too!"

"Yeah!" Sonichu pulled her in for a kiss. "I hope he finds someone as pretty as you, Rosey."

"Perdone me, Señor Sonichu," Heather Iglesias walked into the room with Cera, Christine, and Robbie all waddling after her and babbling about trivial things that only they cared about. She held out Sonichu's cell phone, which was ringing and playing "Oops!... I Did It Again".

"Thanks Heather!" Sonichu accepted the phone. "Father! How goes your Sweetheart Search?"

"Well, uh, Sonichu, tha…city of CWCville needs y…I need you ta help me with tha stress…"

"Oh boy! What is it, Father? Bank robbery? Fire? Jewel thieves?"

"Dose, dose dirty Jerkop homos just…dey just…OOOOOHHHHH!" screamed Chris in helpless rage, and sighed loudly. "Dey broke into tha CWCville Hospital an' DEY'RE KILLIN' THA WIDDLE BAY-BEES! You gotta z…uh…zap to tha extreme an' save tha day!"

"You are absolutely right, Father; I'm on my way!"

"Good, uh, thank you very mu…thank you very much, Sonichu, for helping with tha, uh, tha stress." Chris panted and took deep breaths. The outburst had completely sapped his energy. "Now I gotta…Julie's on tha other, uh, phone an' we're…uh…we're just talkin' about…stuff…"

"Okay, Father! I'll have those dirty trolls all rounded up in no time!" Sonichu clicked off the phone and handed it back to Heather. "I'll be back once I deal with those dirty jerks. Take care, Rosey!" He knelt down and patted each of the children on their soft headspikes. "See ya, kids!"

"Bye-bye, Daddee!" replied Robbie, Cera, and Christine simultaneously. "We wuv you!"

"Well then, it's time to zap! I'm off to save the day!" Sonichu dashed out the door and up the street, speeding toward downtown CWCville as fast as lightning. Rosechu, Heather, and the kids waved goodbye until the blur had vanished into the distance, then walked back to the kitchen.

"Who's ready for dinner?" Rosechu asked enthusiastically.

"YAY!" screeched the three little chus, hopping up and down with excitement. Heather winced as the children's loud, high-pitched exclamations hurt her ears, but she smiled along with them.

"Wat awe we gonna hawve fow dinner, Mommmmmmeeeeeeee?" asked Cera, and rubbed her tummy hungrily as Rosechu picked up the three babies and set them on the counter one by one.

"Fried chicken, onion rings, and donuts!" replied Rosechu, and bent down to retrieve the big deep fryer from the cupboard beneath the counter. "It's a holiday! Do you know what today is?"

"Chwistmas!" squealed Robbie, even though Christmas had been just two months ago.

"My biwfday!" guessed Christine, gleefully anticipating another barrage of presents just for her.

"Chwistian Wuv Day!" replied Cera with a smug smirk.

"Very smart, Cera!" Rosechu smiled down at her daughter and patted her soft headspikes. "And because it's Christian Love Day, we're having a special Christian Love Day dinner tonight!"

"YAY! WE WUV CHWISTIAN WUV DAY!"

Ding dong!

Rosechu turned around in surprise. Could her hubby-bolt already be home so soon? Well, she was too busy to go answer the door, and anyway, her hands were full. She turned to the nanny. "Heather, would you go see who that is? I need to make dinner for the kids."

"Si, Señora Rosechu." Heather obediently stepped out of the room to greet their unexpected guests. There was a creak of hinges, and a few muffled voices and laughter. No doubt someone was here to see Heather. Maybe it was a new boyfriend asking her out on a date. Maybe she'd decided to start living a good, straight life after all, instead of continuing her immoral homo life.

Smiling vacantly, Rosechu turned back to her children. "How was school today, Cera?"

"I didn't wike it 'cuz Kevin was sick!" whined the pink Rosey. "Dat's not faiwr! Jewish fowk don't get sick! He's my fwiend and he's sposed taawways be dere ta pway wif meeeeeeeeeee!"

"Well, maybe he's just stressed," suggested Rosechu. "Your Grandpa Chris sometimes has to call in sick when those nasty trolls give him lots of stress. Anyway, you still have your friends and your brother and sister, don't you? Roseys use their cuteness to make lots of friends!"

Cera tried to remember if she'd ever had any other friends at school besides Kevin. The human children didn't want anything to do with her, and the other homebred Sonees and Roseys in Mrs. Lyra's class were always too busy listening to Christine talk about how pretty she was or else watching Robbie run around in circles and brag about how fast he was getting. They didn't pay enough attention to her as they were supposed to, and that ground Cera's gears something fierce.

"Kevin's my fwiend," she stated stubbornly, and folded her armstubs. "He's my Jewish fwiend, an he's gonna get bettewr so dat he can pway wif me an bake cookees wif me an tewl me dat…"

"…that you're a good little Rosey?" asked Kevin Shaw as he stepped into the kitchen in full combat gear, accompanied by Steve, who in turn was accompanied by Sugarplum Fury. Behind them stood Nate, Allie, Serge, and Jexis, all armed to the teeth and glaring at Rosechu and her children with the purest and most inconceivable hatred that any of the four chus had ever seen.

"Drop the larvae," ordered Steve as he raised Origin and drew back the black revolver's hammer with a sinister metallic click, "and KISS THE FUCKING FLOOR, ROSECHU."

A second passed, its silence broken only by the metallic clatter of assault rifles, submachine guns, Origin, Trogdor, and Baba Yaga being raised to fire. Then came the screaming.

"WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" bawled Cera, Christine, and Robbie, their reptilian eyes wide with terror as they clung to their mother as tightly as their little armstubs would allow them.

"OH GOD! GODJESUS! NO! HEATHER!" shrieked Rosechu as she frantically gathered all three of the children into her arms. Steve nodded to Allie and Nate, who obediently circled around through the living room to cut off the last avenue of escape for the Electric Hedgehog Pokémon. "HEATHER, WHERE ARE YOU?! HELP US! SAVE MY BABIES!"

"Lo siento, Señora Rosechu," the Hispanic nanny chuckled as she appeared from the front hall with Kuri standing by her side. "Lo siento…your guests were muy persuasive."

"NO!" Rosechu shook her head, as if trying to deny the bitter truth that stood before her. Heather had always been so kind, so caring, so responsible, cleaning up after Robbie whenever he tripped and fell or lost control of his bowels, brushing Christine's fur and telling her she was the prettiest Rosey in the world, teaching Cera to fold laundry and cook like a good mommy, and watching the kids whenever Sonichu and Rosechu needed time to themselves or else were busy helping out at the Mayor's office. She knew the family so well! She would never betray the creations of the man who had made it a punishable crime for her to seek out her sinful homosexual love! And it was her job to make sure that the children never endured anything of the stressful sort. It was her fault that these trolls had entered their house!

Heather laughed bitterly. "Si, Señora Rosechu. Si." She turned to Kuri and muttered a few words to her in Spanish. The Jerkop burst out laughing, then stepped forward and whispered something to Steve. However, the Manajerk was more focused on the fuzzy little blobs squirming around in their mother's grasp than on whatever Kuri had said. However, a tiny smile crossed his face.

"Calm down now, Rosechu," Steve said gently, and held out his arms in a peaceful gesture. "We don't want to hurt anyone. Just put down your kids and we'll talk. It's easy. Easy as pie."

"YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY BABIES, TROLL!" yelled Rosechu, hugging them against her chest. "MY HUBBY-BOLT WILL BE BACK ANY SECOND NOW TO SAVE ME!"

"I wike pie…" Robbie sniffled absentmindedly. All the stress was making him hungry and tired.

A vein pulsed in the Manajerk's forehead at the Sonee's words. "Rosechu, there aren't a lot of good ways this can end. If you keep resisting us, your kids'll be in one hell of a pickle."

"NO!" Rosechu's eyes began to turn red. "You will not take the fruits of my womb from me! I am the warrior of supreme gender equality! I AM WOMAN! I HAVE THE POWER!"

"You're a horrible mother and an embarrassment to every women's rights movement in history," snarled Jexis. "You face-raped Howell and helped your husband and Chandler murder thousands of innocents. You're no woman. You're no feminist crusader. You're a monster."

"Dat's not twoo! Mommee's da bestest mommee in da wowld, 'cuz she's OWR mommee!" yelled Cera while Robbie and Christine whined and sobbed next to her. All the while, Rosechu's eyes grew redder and redder with fury, and her headspikes began to prickle up like an immense mane. She continued backing up further and further as Steve cautiously advanced, until she was standing just in front of the stairway leading to the basement.

"We're prepared to let you go if you give us the children," suggested Steve with a convincingly straight face. "Chandler would do the same if he had kids. Don't you want to be like Father?"

"THE ALMIGHTY UTERUS IS MINE TO COMMAND!" growled Rosechu, not listening at all. "YOU OF THE INFERIOR CHROMOSOMES CANNOT HOPE TO SILENCE ME!"

Steve nodded and smiled. "Right. You have fun with that." He raised a hand. "Get 'em."

Without a word, Allie and Nate lunged from behind Rosechu like cobras striking their prey, snatching Robbie and Cera out of her grasp before she knew what had happened.

"WAAAAAHHHHH! MOMMEEEEE!" the little chus cried, struggling and kicking helplessly as they were cruelly torn from their mother's embrace. "MOMMEEEEEE! HEWWWWWWP!"

"ROBBIE! CERA! NOOOOO!" Fiery rage flashed across Rosechu's face as she held Christine even more tightly. Whirling around, she shot a glare of pure loathing at Steve and unzipped her dress with her free hand. As the Jerkops watched in horror, she stripped bare in front of them, all while clutching the crying purple Rosey. Dense fur sprouted all over her chest and groin to shield her lady parts from view, while razor-sharp claws grew quickly from her fingers.

"I AM THE HARBINGER OF BLOODY MENSTRUAL DOOM!" the Incredible Lioness roared in a berserk fit of pseudo-feminist rage. "THE STRENGTH AND INDOMITABLE SPIRIT OF MY CERVIX AND FALLOPIAN TUBES WILL PROTECT THE DEFENSELESS AND BELOVED CHILDREN WHO HAVE EMERGED FROM MY GLORIOUS WOMB! YOUR EVIL CANNOT STAND AGAINST THE SUPREMACY OF ESTROGEN! YOUR HATRED WILL NOT STIFLE MY FURIOUS OVARIES! I AM WOMAN! HEAR ME RO-"

HONNNNNNNNKKKKK! HONNNNNNNNNNNKKKKK!

CRASH! CRUNCH! In less than a second, the pink demon was gone, hurled down into the basement as the Battle Bus smashed straight through the side of 14 Brunchville Lane and plowed into her with its front-mounted battering ram. Kevin could hear the body bouncing and rolling all the way down the stairs, as well as Christine's screams of pain…and something else.

"GRRROWR!" roared Sugarplum Fury, appropriately finishing Rosechu's sentence for her.

"They'll be fine, Sugar," the Legend muttered as he stepped out of the Battle Bus with SUZI hovering beside his shoulder. "You can eat later. Steve, keep her on a leash for this, got it?"

"Guys…" Steve's voice trembled with excitement as Nate handed him the struggling, weeping Robbie. A small stream of urine began trickling out of the terrified Sonee's crotch flap, but the Jerkop paid it no heed in his moment of pride. "This is it. We're here. We're actually doing it."

"Don't celebrate just yet," said Al, and patted his friend on the back. "Right. You all know the drill. Emily and the Picklemen won't be able to keep Sonichu occupied for more than an hour or two. Kevin, are you absolutely sure you set up those cameras correctly at Christmas?"

"Positive." Kevin smiled. "It's gonna be one hell of a show. Tell Vivian to start recording."

Al picked up his walkie-talkie. "Remnant Five, Remnant Five, Honey Badger Command, come in. Operation Hedgeclipper is in effect. I say again, Operation Hedgeclipper is in effect."

"Ledger?" There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line as Vivian Gee turned on the camera feeds and saw what had become of Sonichu and Rosechu's house. "I…I... C-c-copy and confirm, Honey Badger Command. All callsigns, this is Remnant Five. Operation Hedgeclipper is in effect. Operation Hedgeclipper is in effect. We have a confirmed breach of 14 Brunchville Lane. The Honey Badgers are inside the house and have captured the children and Rosechu, repeat, THE HONEY BADGERS HAVE THE SONICHU CHILDREN."

"Damn right we do," chuckled Steve, and began tenderly stroking Robbie's headspikes as the tiny Sonee blubbered in fear. "Now the question is…what do we do with these fat little fucks?"

"You wet me goooooo!" shouted Cera as she tugged at Allie's fingers. When that didn't work, she started thrashing around, as if the Rosey honestly believed she could somehow squeeze her chubby body loose from the young woman's grasp. "WAAAHHH! I WANT MY MOMMEE!"

"I'm afraid that's no longer an option, Cera," sighed the Legend in a voice laden with false regret. "You and your sister Christine have been two bad little Roseys, and your brother Robbie's been a bad little Sonee. And you know what happens to bad little Sonees and Roseys?"

"No, ima good widdle Wosey!" Cera stared at Al with an expression somewhere between stubborn defiance and smug self-assurance. "My mommy's da owiginal Wosechu an she says ima good widdle Wosey, 'cuz…uh…you'we a diwtee…wying…homow! Stawp wying, twoll!"

"Bad little Sonees and Roseys get punished," finished Al with a sinister chuckle.

Cera let out a piercing scream. Without warning, she jerked her disproportionately heavy body around in Allie's hands and, defying all expectations, managed to pull herself out of the Jerkop's grip. She plopped to the kitchen floor with a squeal and immediately waddled for the front door, stumbling and tottering back and forth on her underdeveloped stumpfeet. If she could just get to Sonichu in time and show him what a good, responsible Rosey she was, he'd give her all sorts of wonderful presents and tell her she was so smart for running away so the trolls couldn't get her!

"WAAAAAAAHHHHH! DADDDDDEEEEEEEEE!" she shrieked. "SAYVE MEEEEEEE!"

"YAY! Go Cewah!" Robbie cried happily, clapping his stubs together as he watched his sister valiantly abandoning him. In his naïve little mind, she was going to get Sonichu and bring him right home so he could rescue Robbie and make all the stress go away. The mean troll Jerkops would all be punished and sent to jail for being bad, and then his father would pat him on the head and give him some candy and tell his little partner that he'd been such a brave little Sonee. Robbie let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes happily. If he waited long enough and hoped really hard for Daddy to come back, everything would sort itself out, just like it always did.

Unfortunately for both of the larvae, Cera only made it about five feet before being caught again.

"That wasn't very nice to run away like that, Cera," commented Kevin as he reached down and snatched up the wailing Rosey by the back of her little blue shirt. "Did you forget Robbie? You weren't going to leave your helpless little brother alone with us, were you?" He flashed her a wicked grin and lifted her up to show the Sonee, who could only stare at Cera in utter confusion.

"Wobbiiiieeee…" Cera whined, attempting to talk her way out of the stressful situation. "I didn't weeve…I was…I was gonna get Daddee ta sayve us! Dey're twolls! Dey're wying! WAAHH!"

"That's right, Robbie," Steve added, smiling as the pieces of Kevin's cruel plan began to fall into place. "Cera says she was going to get Daddy to save you. Only problem is, Daddy's really far away right now because he's busy zapping to the extreme and saving the day. Cera can't run as fast as you, so she was going to leave you here to save herself. But that's not what you would've done! You would've run fast and zapped to the extreme and saved the day, just like Daddy!"

"YEAH!" squealed Robbie, puffing up his chest in triumph at the Jerkop's praise. Seconds later, the smug grin on his face died as he finally realized what Steve had meant. It was true. Cera had left him alone to die! But that wasn't right! That wasn't what his sister was supposed to do in a stressful situation like this! She was supposed to take care of everything, not run away and save herself instead of looking after him! He was her baby brother, a helpless, innocent little Sonee! It couldn't be true. She just wanted to take care of him, like always! She had a plan to save him!

Meanwhile, Cera's stunted mind was on the verge of implosion. For the first time in her life, Robbie was looking at her with an expression of shock, betrayal, and even hints of hatred. She hadn't done anything wrong! She was the oldest child, and it was her responsibility to run away and save herself so that Daddy would give her candy and treats for being so brave and standing up to the big mean Jerkops! It wasn't as if they were going to murder their captives. Babies and heroines never died in movies or on TV, so Cera knew that Rosechu and Christine and Robbie would have been all right. But why couldn't her brother understand? She was trying so hard!

"It's…it's da stwess!" she squeaked, deflecting any actualresponsibility onto her grandfather's most beloved scapegoat after trolls and homos. "Dey made me stwessed, so it's dere fawlt!

"Why were you gonna weeve meeeeeeee?" bawled Robbie, tears streaming from his eyes as his entire perception of his sister was destroyed in a matter of seconds. Kevin's joy at feeling Cera squirm uncomfortably in his grasp was simply unrivaled. The horrid saccharine bond between the two siblings was shattering before his very eyes, and he was loving every millisecond of it. He could only hope that the upcoming horrendous physical torture would successfully hammer in the sheer magnitude of Cera's betrayal to both herself and her brother.

"Well, I'll leave you to think about what Cera did to you, Robbie," he announced gleefully, and tucked the baby chu under an arm as she wailed and cried. "Let's go, little Rosey. Time to play."

Cera moaned and began beating the side of Kevin's chest with her useless stubs. Not even the word "play" had managed to distract her. Jexis and Sugarplum Fury followed him as he hurried down the stairs and stepped over Rosechu and Christine's twitching bodies.

"And that's one," announced Al from back in the kitchen. "Steve, if you even think about…"

"Don't you worry," replied Steve, and lifted the weeping, shuddering Robbie up to eye level. "The narcissist's all yours. Trust me. I'm more than happy with the card I've been dealt."

"Wet me go you big mean pywat jewk!" screamed the Sonee as he snapped back to his wannabe hero persona and began kicking his stumpfeet in midair in a pathetic attempt to waddle away from the Jerkop. If Cera had escaped the trolls, then he could too! "Daddee's gonna wescue me, an you'wl be in big twouble wen I tewl him wat you did ta Mommee an Chwistine!"

Steve chuckled evilly. "Oh, we're gonna have lots of fun tonight, aren't we, wittle Wobbie? What about Cera? We're going to give her lots of Prickly-Wicklies too! Don't you want Daddy to save her too? Real heroes save everyone…even the ones who leave them to die."

"I…I…Cewah wan away!" Robbie yelled, his face flushed as he blustered on and on without any regard to what he was saying. "An Daddee an I awe gonna zap you awl an sayve Mommee!"

"What about Christine? Did you forget your shiny sister now?" asked Steve, relentlessly mind-fucking the Sonee right to the edge of his stress limit. Robbie almost had an aneurysm then and there from the sheer exertion of thinking so hard and trying to cope with the stress. It would only take one more traumatic event to push him over the edge, and Steve knew just where to get that.

"Don't let us keep you waiting," muttered Al as Kuri grinned evilly and began shaking up her bottle of Break You Dead while Allie busied herself with collecting Rosechu's discarded clothes. "You two can do whatever small things you want to Robbie for now, but as soon as we give the word, start going through the stuff we rehearsed." The Legend paused. "And…have fun."

Both Steve and Kuri instantly shot him a stare that said You seriously needed to tell us that?

"All right, then. Allie, Nate, secure the basement and make sure those two won't be escaping anytime soon." The Legend let out a shaky breath. "Christine's mine. No one kills her but me."

The pair of Jerkops nodded and quickly headed down the basement stairs, one after the other. Al remained in the kitchen for a few seconds, taking deep breaths as the reality of what he and his squad were about to do began to sink in. Below, he could hear Christine bawling and Rosechu's half-conscious moans as Allie and Nate grabbed them and dragged them out into the open. Robbie whimpered in Steve's grip, beating his tiny armstubs again and again against his captor's fingers while Kuri opened up the cupboard above the sink and retrieved a large glass jug, big enough to hold a Sonee. She offered it to Steve, who dumped the struggling baby chu inside.

"You okay, Al?" asked the blond Jerkop as Robbie screamed and tried to pull himself out of his prison with his static cling. Unfortunately for the Sonee, he wasn't nearly as strong as his father always told him he was. This predictably led to Robbie simply giving up on the entire plan and resorting to pounding the unyielding glass with his armstubs while attempting to kick it as well.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine," muttered Al, and stepped back into the Battle Bus to retrieve a few certain items. The "shiny kit", as he'd christened it, was right where he'd left it. It was simply a plastic toolbox filled with an electric shaver, a straight razor, a pair of tweezers, a plastic bag full of rock salt, a Zippo lighter, a small bottle of lemon juice, and a roll of duct tape. There were two much more imposing tools beside it – a wooden baseball bat which had two dozen nails hammered through the business end at many different angles, and a brand new pair of stainless steel hedge clippers. With the box of goodies tucked under one arm and the nail bat and shears under the other, he gave Steve and Kuri a last nod of approval and turned to Heather and Serge.

"You did the right thing, Miss Iglesias," the Legend addressed the Sonichu family's former nanny. "But this place isn't safe anymore. The EHPF are gonna come down on everyone with ties to these little brats, including you. We can offer you sanctuary as a civilian liason."

Heather hugged him tearfully. "Si. Si. Muchas gracias, Señor Ledger. Vaya con Arceus."

"It's okay. It's okay," muttered Al as Serge gently pried Heather loose and ushered her toward the Battle Bus. "Wait inside until we're finished. Serge, go with her and watch for Sparkies."

"Whewe awe you goin, Nannee Heathewr?" Robbie pressed his pudgy face against the glass and sobbed, waving frantically to his former nanny as she boarded the vehicle without looking back once. "Don't weeve me awone wif da big mean pewsons! NO! NOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! WAAAAHHHH! WAAAAAHHH! I WANT NANNEE HEATHEWR! WAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"Do you ever stop whining?" asked Steve, and flicked the Sonee right in his tiny blob of a nose with a single finger. Robbie squealed and scrunched up his face, concentrating as hard as he could on channeling a big heroic electric shock. He could feel the energy building inside him, surging through his cheekspots like the tingly feeling he sometimes felt in his pickle when he played with Cera and Christine in the bathtub or when he'd accidentally waddled in on Sonichu and Rosechu doing their naked wrestling game in bed. This was it! He was finally going to prove how strong and brave he was by zapping all the evil Jerkops to the extreme, just like his father!

"DIE, TWOLL!" he shrieked, unleashing the biggest, most powerful bolt he'd ever conjured.

Zzzap!

Steve winced slightly as the weak Spark attack connected with his wrist with a sizzle, then ducked behind the counter, out of the Sonee's sight. Robbie opened his eyes and let out a smug, triumphant "YAY!", convinced that he'd just blasted the Jerkop right off the face of the earth with the sheer power and unbelievable strength of his mighty Thundershock…

"Oops," giggled Kuri as Steve rose up, towering over the Sonee like Cthulhu rising from the dark depths of R'lyeh. A sudden cold dread rushed through Robbie's pudgy body. No. It couldn't be true. How could this be possible? He was a strong, brave little baby, filled with spunk and speed and packing a lot of action! The big mean pirate had cheated! He must have cheated! There was no way that any troll could stand against Robbie Sonee, the son of the true and original Sonichu!

Steve grinned down at his captive. "Pathetic, Robbie. Now we're just gonna have to kill you."

Robbie shrieked in terror and immediately emptied his bowels and bladder into the jug.

Grinning, Kuri unrolled a sheet of plastic wrap and pressed it down over the opening, sealing the Sonee inside with an enormous load of his own filth. Soon, muffled coughs and screams began emanating from the befouled jar, as the horrible stench began striking back against its originator.

Al made his way across the kitchen and down the basement stairs, leaving Robbie to his horrible fate at the hands of the Jerkops. All the while, he could hear the baby chu shrieking, begging his captors to give him back his nanny because he needed someone to clean him up and give him a bath. Robbie still hadn't put together the fact that Heather had no intention of ever coming back.

Typical homebreds, the Legend thought to himself as he turned out of the stairway and found himself in the basement of 14 Brunchville Lane. It was exactly what he'd expected in a house designed and furnished via Christian Weston Chandler's CADD-enhanced skills: a small room with an ironing board and sewing machine on one side…obviously Rosechu's half. On the other side sat a large workbench and an array of sharp, blunt, serrated, and dangerous tools scattered all over it. A curious baby chu could have easily picked up any one of them. How Robbie, Cera, and Christine had avoided killing themselves by accident for so long was an utter mystery.

A blood trail on the concrete floor led to where Allie and Nate had dumped Rosechu's naked, battered body – right in the center of the basement. She had reverted back to her normal form, and there was no trace of the horrific pseudo-feminist rage-monster known as the Incredible Lioness lingering in her broken spirit. A few feet away, Christine was wriggling in Nate's grip, screaming and screaming while Allie cruelly yanked on her sensitive belly fur again and again.

"STAWP IT! STAAAAWWWWP IIIIIIITTTTT!" screeched the purple Rosey. Too preoccupied with trying to push Allie's fingers away, she didn't notice Al approaching from the stairs.

"Good job, you two," the Legend complimented his Jerkops, and placed the "shiny kit", the hedge clippers, and the nailed baseball bat down beside Rosechu. "Now let's get to work. First things first, hand me that ugly little mutant."

"I AM NOT UGWY! IMA PWETTY WOSEY!" yelled Christine in a mix of agony and rage.

"You're ugly, Christine," growled Al as he snatched the Rosey from Nate and pressed her flabby little body against the center of the nail bat, just below the business end, "Now hold still." He began rolling the duct tape around her torso, adhering her to the bat like a firing squad victim being tied to a pole. Christine wailed and writhed even harder to free herself from the sticky tape, but the Manajerk kept on winding and winding and winding until the Rosey's armstubs were pinned to her sides. She hung there, kicking and screaming like the spoiled brat she was, an unwilling participant in the horrible mutilation and murder of her own mother.

"Wakey wakey." Al dealt Rosechu a firm kick to her bare china with his boot. She shifted and let out a strangled moan. "Get up. Your little baby's got a surprise for you."

"Uhhhhgghhh…uhhhhh…Christine?" gasped Rosechu. Her eyes drifted open. Al simply turned and nodded to his Jerkops. Nate stepped forward and kicked the chu housewife right under the chin, sending her reeling back into Allie's waiting arms with a shocked cry of pain. The young woman immediately and forcibly pinned her down, pressing Rosechu against the cold concrete as she struggled and thrashed around just like her purple-furred daughter was doing on the bat.

Al tossed the hedge clippers to Nate. "You know what to do. Remember, we're on film."

"Absolutely." The sniper knelt down, grabbed one of Rosechu's hands, and forced her thumb between the steel blades. "Oh dear. Just look at you. I'm gonna have to give you a manicure if you want to look all nice and pretty when your hubby-bolt gets back. Now hold still."

"NO! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU DIRTY HOM-"

SNIP!

"AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

SNIP!

"EEEEAAAAAUUUUGHGHHGGGH!"

One by one, Nate coldly clipped off all of Rosechu's fingers. By the time he tossed the bloodied hedge clippers aside and gathered all of the severed digits into a plastic bag, Rosechu's white gloves were now soaked in red and squirting into the growing pools of blood beneath each fingerless hand. Al stood silent and calm, gazing down at the wounded chu as she howled and shrieked in anguish. Eventually, her spasms died down, and were replaced by hoarse, muffled moans and weak shudders. Christine could only go on weeping and screaming, unable to tear her big blue eyes away from her naked and mutilated mother lying crumpled on the floor below.

"That was fun, wasn't it, wittle Chwistine?" cooed Al in a disgusting baby voice. Christine wailed again in terror. "Wait, what? Bash Mommy's head in?" He raised the bat and its occupant into the air. "But Mommy wuvs you so much! Are you sure you want to do that, shiny Rosey?"

"WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOO! STAAAAAWWWWWWWP!"

"CHRISTINE! BABY NO!" screamed Rosechu as Al positioned the nail bat and the squirming, squealing Rosey over her head. "CHRISTINE! NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"MOMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEE! HEWP ME! HEWP MEEEEEEEE! WAAAAAAAHHHH!"

CRUNCH! CRACK!

"GGGGUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHH!" Rosechu felt her nose break and her teeth shatter from the first impact alone. The nails tore at her lips and pierced her face, ripping a dozen bloody holes in her matted pink fur. Through swollen, bleeding eyes, she could see her daughter writhing against her tape cocoon, shrieking an awful high-pitched cry of anguish as the Legend raised her up for Nate and Allie to see what kind of damage he'd done.

Indeed, Christine had fared slightly better than Rosechu had after the crushing blow, but that had been Al's idea all along – for the spoiled little Rosey to not only helplessly watch her mother die, but to know and to realize that she had helped Al to murder Rosechu. Christine's purple fur was now stained with blood…her mother's blood. The blow had slammed her right against Rosechu – not hard enough to severely hurt her, but hard enough to give a more well-designed creature shaken infant syndrome. As it was, Christine's diminutive brain, like those of all Sonees and Roseys, was protected by a thick cushion of fat that had also saved her life during her sudden trip down the stairs. However, she had not escaped without injury. The skin around one of her crystal blue eyes was quickly turning dark and swollen – it had smacked against Rosechu's cheekbone.

"Right, then," growled the Manajerk. "You like that, you vapid whore? You Rosechus all like it rough, don't you? That…heh…that was just foreplay."

"Please…" gasped Rosechu as she struggled backward, thrashing against Allie and Nate's restraining hands. "Just let me…you can have Christine, just let me go back to my sweetbolt…"

Al raised the bat again. "Disgusting. You disgusting…despicable…cunt. You furfags really don't have a single shred of empathy, do you? Not even for your own spawn. Well, I'm gonna force some out of you if I have to. So…why don't you tell Christine who her real daddy is, huh?"

"My weal Daddee's da twoo an owigi-"

"The grown-ups are talking, sweetie," said Allie, and drove her fist into Christine's plump belly.

"WAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" cried the purple Rosey, and began banging her head helplessly against the wooden bat. A rib had snapped, and the pain now burned in her torso like a hot iron poker, building up waves and waves of stress until Christine thought for sure she would die then and there. But no…she wasn't nearly so lucky. And the Jerkops hadn't even started on her yet.

"Now tell her," growled Al. "Tell her the truth, you lying slut. Tell her where she came from."

"YAY!" Unbelievably, Christine's eyes filled with happy tears. She always loved it when Rosechu talked about her and how special her birth had been, how Sonichu had lifted her - a tiny, squealing purple fuzzball – out of her broken eggshell and hugged her with pride…so much pride at having brought such a pretty, special, shiny Rosey into the world.

"Christine…" gasped Rosechu. "Christine…"

"Tewl me da stowee, Mommee!" cried Christine with inexplicable joy. Her selfish larval mind had already forgotten everything about the Jerkops, her mother's injuries, the danger her siblings were in…even the burning sensation in her ribs. As long as she was the center of attention, nothing else mattered. She was a pretty Rosey, a unique and beautiful and shiny…

Rosechu took a deep breath. "Christine…sweetie…I didn't mean…I don't…I…"

"I wanna heawr 'bowt meeeeee!" Christine squealed happily, and slapped her armstubs together.

Al shook his head in disgust. And here he had thought Cera was the self-centered one. He'd wondered if Kevin had exaggerated about the purple Rosey's behavior, but this…this thing was Narcissus reincarnated into the body of a fuzzy, ugly baby chu. Christine didn't care that her own mother was at death's door or that she, her brother, and her sister were all mere minutes away from being tortured and murdered in three horrifying marathons of violence, pain, and death. All she wanted to hear was more about how absolutely pretty and special she was.

"Yes, tell her, Rosechu," he added, and knelt down beside her so Christine could stare into her mother's eyes and hear the horrid truth at last. "Tell her about her daddy...and we'll let you go. True and honest. I swear to GodJesus, we'll let you go."

Rosechu let out a horrible strangled sob that sounded like a cat dying, and told them everything.

"Wosey!" cried the tiny pink Rosey, staring up at the big unfamiliar faces smiling down on her. "Goo-goo! Sey! Sey!"

A collective "awww" swept the room as the partygoers watched little Cerah squirming around and cooing adorably in her crib, swaddled in a mound of blankets. The Chaotic Combo, Christian Weston Chandler, and all of Sonichu and Rosechu's friends had been invited to celebrate the hatching of the happy couple's first child – a beautiful, healthy baby Rosey.

"She looks just like her mother," Angelica Rosechu commented, and tickled Cerah's petite nose.

"I think she's gonna be a great mommy one day," added Wild Sonichu.

"Tha…it's a good thing dat…uh…a good thing dat tha widdle bay-bee is a Rosey," said Chris. "When you ha…when you an' Sonichu make some more of tha Sonees an' Roseys, Sarah…Cerah can take care of her brothers an' sisters, like a good Rosey! She's a pretty Rosey, uh, Rosechu."

Rosechu smiled and nodded and blushed at her creator's stuttered, jumbled praise, while Sonichu proudly placed a gloved hand on his heartsweet's shoulder. Even if Chris had called Cerah the ugliest little lump of fail in the world, his reaction would have been the same. "Yes Father, Rosechu and I will give you many more grandchildren to form the next Chaotic Combo."

"If tha, tha nex…if you, uh, make a bay-bee, uh, Sonee next, I would, I would appr-approve of you naming him after, uh, me."

"But Father," Rosechu spoke up. "We already agreed to name our next Rosey after you. What about someone else you care about?"

"Well, ah, Rosechu, the…I believe I am more than enough ta…uh…I deserve tha two bay-bee names an'…" Chris let out a short stress sigh as he realized that it would get very confusing if the couple's next child was named Christian Sonee. Telling the difference between his name and the baby's name would just be too hard, and it would give him too much stress. "Well, uh, you could use tha…you could name tha Sonee after my fa-, uh, after Robert Franklin Chandler, tha former Mayor…of CWCville." He made sure to announce his father's full name, title, and the city they were in, in case any of his beloved creations had forgotten. They hadn't.

"Robert Sonee?" Sonichu grinned complacently. "What a great idea, Father!"

"I don't know," said Rosechu, and vapidly scratched her headspikes. "Robert doesn't sound spunky enough. How about just Rob, or Bobby, or…I know! How about Robbie Sonee?"

"I, I like dat name, Rosechu," blurted out Chris. He adjusted his glasses and smiled so hard that the effort scrunched up his pudgy face like raw bread dough. "So tha next bay-bee will be called Robbie Sonee or, uh, Christine Rosey. Well, I, um, tha Mayor's work is never…I need ta go help with tha hard Mayor work…" He grabbed a handful of cookies from one of the party trays and waddled out the door toward where SON-CHU was parked, leaving a trail of crumbs behind.

Sonichu gave Rosechu a quick kiss on the cheek and a seductive stare. "Well Rosey, you know we'll have to do what Father says. I'd love to have a Sonee next! Just imagine, a spunky little champ who I could teach how to run fast and play catch and…"

Rosechu giggled and blushed. "Not now, honey-bolt! We have guests! And anyway, we've already got one precious little baby to take care of!"

"Goo-goo!" squeaked Cerah.

Far in the back of Rosechu's mind, buried beneath endless strata of shopping-related memories, lay a bloody hospital bed, bright lights and a deep, intense, flaring pain in her abdomen. She'd strained and pushed and screamed and wept for hours and hours before expelling a bloody, slimy egg the size of a basketball from her china – an egg from which Cerah Rosey had hatched three weeks later. But those weren't good memories, so she had merely forgotten that they even happened. To her, the notion of having more children was nothing more than a joyful idea. Chris wanted it to happen, anyway, and she had no intention of disappointing her hubby-bolt, either.

As the party carried on into the evening and guests began to drift away from the adorable Rosey in her crib, Rosechu began to feel more and more uncomfortable with Magi-Chan Sonichu. There was just something…off in the way he stood, calmly staring at her with that disconcerting half-smile on his face. And yet, she felt like some powerful magnetic force was drawing her closer to him. She would find excuses to go get more non-alcoholic CWC Orange Soda punch just so she could walk by and feel that nice sensation in the back of her head that she always felt when she was close to Magi-Chan. Talking to him was even better. He had this way of speaking that was laced with so much emotion, so many different feelings packed into each word…

When the last of the Combo had left and Sonichu had dashed off to see if Chris needed any help at the Shopping Center, Rosechu cleaned up the leftover food and garbage like a dutiful wife, washed and put away the dishes, then finally stopped by Cerah's room to check on her new baby. The little pink Rosey, just small enough to fit into Rosechu's hand in her newborn stage, was already fast asleep, making soft "goo-goo"s and giggling as she dreamed happy Rosey dreams of evolving and finding a nice Sonichu husband to love and take care of for the rest of her life.

"Congratulations."

Rosechu whirled around, her heart pounding in surprise. Magi-Chan hovered before her, a purple specter in the dark room. She sighed in relief and turned back to tuck Cerah in.

"I'm sorry, Magi-Chan," she addressed him with a little laugh. "I didn't know you were still…"

"I wanted to give you a gift," continued the psychic Electric Hedgehog Pokémon, and held out a hand. A tall, perspiring glass of cold liquid with ice cubes and a slice of lemon appeared before her eyes, floating on a shimmering field of energy. Rosechu reached out and took it from him.

"What is this?" she asked with a smile. "You know that Father doesn't want us to drink alc-"

"It's a Long Island Iced Tea," Magi-Chan explained with infinite patience. "Go on. Father's not here now. He won't be mad at you for trying something new. You deserve it."

Obediently, Rosechu took a sip. As a Sonichu, Magi-Chan obviously knew what was best for her. She winced at the slight burn in the back of her throat, but took another sip anyway. It was a good drink…and it was making her feel like how she felt when Magi-Chan was close.

He actually was close, now. Very close.

"What's…going on?" she slurred.

"Shut up," Magi-Chan said in that same placid, hypnotic voice. "Take your clothes off."

Rosechu nodded at the helpful recommendation, and did so.

"You'll soon have a gift for me too," Magi-Chan stated calmly, and took her then and there.

In that one brief moment of sudden clarity before she felt him enter her, Rosechu finally, at last, realized what was going on, and how easily she had fallen into Magi-Chan's trap.

She did not resist…in fact, she rather enjoyed it.

Silence reigned in the basement of 14 Brunchville Lane, broken only by a clattering sound in the kitchen above them. Steve was yelling something to Kuri about canola oil, while Robbie kept on screaming and crying for his mother and father.

Finally, Christine spoke. It was a strange voice…a voice somewhere between confusion and a deep, helpless fear of the horrid truth that her mother had just revealed.

"But…but you an Daddee awways towd me dat ima shiny Wosey…an dat my fuw's puwpul 'cuz ima shiny Wosey…an dat ima speshul pwetty shiny Wo-"

"There's nothing 'speshul' about you, you fat purple maggot," sneered Nate as Al passed him the bat. He snatched one of the Rosey's triangular ears between his thumb and index finger and tweaked it sharply, pinching the soft flap of skin hard enough to draw blood. Christine let loose with a fresh squeal of pain, and tears began pouring from her eyes once again.

What was Mommy saying? She was supposed to be a shiny Rosey, and everyone had always said how beautiful and unique she was, and how lucky Sonichu and Rosechu were to have brought a shiny into the world. She liked Uncle Magi-Chan a lot, but he couldn't be her daddy. No. Sonichu, the true and original Sonichu was her daddy. The mean Jerkops were just tricking her mother into making up silly stories that didn't make any sense, since they didn't involve her.

"Dat was a dumb stowee," she said haughtily, her mother's confession completely forgotten. "It wasn't abowt me. I wanna stowee abowt meeeeee! You'we awl a buncha diwtee mean twolls dat made up dose swandewous wies abowt Unca Magi-Chan an Mommee, an Mommee just made up dat dumb stowee ta distwact you whiwe Daddee…"

Al rolled his eyes, leaned forward, tipped his mask up, and spat right in her smug little face. Christine cried out in disgust and tried to wriggle free of the duct tape, but only managed to get the saliva all over her purple fur. Meanwhile, Allie had located a sewing needle that had been carelessly left out on the floor, and was now heating the tip in the flame of Trogdor's pilot light. Nate glanced over and turned the bat away so Christine couldn't see what was about to happen.

"So…the rumors were true," chuckled the Legend as he stared down at Rosechu. "You made a little purple bastard baby with Magi-Chan Sonichu." Laughing, he turned to Christine. "Not so special now, are you, 'Shining Rosey'?"

"NOOOO!" shouted Christine, thrashing around against the tape in a futile attempt to escape. "Ima shiny Wosey! IMA PWETTY SHINY WOSEY AN MY DADDEE'S DA TWOO AN OWIGINAL SONICHUUUEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIEEEEEHHHH!" A fresh torrent of tears poured from her glassy blue eyes as Allie drove the red-hot needle right up through the bottom of her plastic shoe and into the supersensitive center of her left stumpfoot. "WAAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAAHHHHHHH! EEEEEIIIIIAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAIIEEEHHHHH!"

Allie simply grinned and twisted the needle. Steam gushed from the sizzling wound as Christine screeched and kicked wildly, trying to dislodge the hot pointy thing from her foot. Allie simply left it inside and stepped back to watch the purple Rosey squirm and bawl in helpless torment.

"Back to where we were," continued Al in a casual tone. "Well, that confession didn't get quite the reaction I was hoping for. Don't worry, though. We got it all on video. I have a feeling that a whole lot of chus are gonna enjoy hearing the real story of their little pretty princess idol."

"NO!" screamed Rosechu. "Please! Don't tell Sonichu or Father! Magi-Chan will be so angry! I'll do anything! I'll let you kill all the children! Just let me go and don't tell my hubby-bolt!"

"SHUT UP, YOU VAPID WHORE!" Al kicked her in the face, bruising her jaw and making her shriek like a banshee. "Nate. Bat. NOW!"

"WAIT!" The female chu spluttered and struggled helplessly. "YOU PROMISED! YOU SAID YOU'D LET ME GO!"

Al glared down at her and laughed cruelly. "And you believed me, you naive slut. Oh well. Shit happens."

Wasting no time, Nate handed the crying Rosey and her makeshift prison back over to the Legend. Al grabbed it, tested its weight, then swung it down with all his might, landing a blow directly on the right side of Rosechu's face.

CRACK!

"WAAAAAAHHHHH! MOMMEEEEEEE!" wailed Christine as she felt the bat strike home.

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH! RRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Rosechu's lower jaw dropped open of its own volition, shattered free of her skull by Al's violent smash. Blood gushed from her mouth in a foaming red spray, pooling on the floor beneath her torn face. A nail had punctured the right half of her fused eye, and now all she was able to do through the pain was to stare up and attempt, unsuccessfully, to scream. All she could produce was a strangled "HGGGGHRHHHRRR!" noise, punctuated with gurgling moans and bubbles of spit. She was drowning in her own blood, and Christine, with her little eyes forced wide open by fear, had to watch the entire horrific show. Without her digits, Rosechu's hands were no more useful than her children's puny stubs. She couldn't push herself upright, or try and crawl away. She could only lie there, bleeding, broken, and useless, waiting for the last blow to fall.

Please, Rosechu thought in a half-insane storm of agony. Please, GodJesus, let them kill Christine and let me live. I can get my tubes untied and Sonichu and I can make more babies…

Al raised his bat over his head, as if to strike a final blow that would end the lives of both chus…then passed it over to Nate once again. Looking down at the pathetic, shattered Rosechu through the cold, blood-spattered visor of his welder's mask, he stepped forward and raised a heavy boot above her face.

"Don't worry," said the Legend. "We'll send her along…eventually." He smiled. "Ladies first."

"NNNNHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Al brought his foot down again and again, slowly flattening Rosechu's skull against the hard concrete floor as if it were some massive cockroach that refused to be crushed. Blood, brain mush, and chips of bone clung to his boot in a sickening, sticky stew, and even though Rosechu should have died from the first crushing stomp, some horrible flaw in her bizarre nervous system kept her alive and aware, feeling each heavy blow from above for nearly two minutes until Al's heel finally ground down on her brain stem and severed it, killing Sonichu's beloved heartsweet. Her head now resembled a pancake, soaked in blood and perforated with white skull fragments and slimy clumps of grey matter. The spasms in her body slowed, then gradually stopped at last.

And yet the Legend still kept on stomping and stomping, ignoring Christine's shrieks of terror as he crushed Rosechu's head bit by bit. By the time he finally slowed down and ceased his furious assault, there wasn't much more left besides a large splatter of gore and a flattened circle of crunchy skull shards beneath his foot. His right pant leg was stained red, all the way up to the knee. Calmly, he stepped back to survey his handiwork.

From the neck down, Rosechu's limp, naked body was relatively unharmed, apart from a scattering of bruises and her bloody hands where her fingers had been lopped off. In life, she had been the heart and soul of chu supremacy where her husband had been its champion and her children had been its symbols. She had been Sonichu's heartsweet, a dutiful wife and mother, a fierce fighter…an utter disgrace to the female gender, a feminist's nightmare, an uncaring and wicked monster. In death, she was just another chu, a fallen idol, a shattered hope for her species, a pathetic pile of broken flesh and bone…no less mortal than the Jerkops who had taken her life.

"Holy shit," breathed Nate. "Jesus Christ…"

"We…we did it," Allie whispered. "Sweet Arceus, it's over."

"Not yet," murmured Al, and looked up at the purple Rosey, who was now shrieking at the top of her lungs and pleading with her dead mother to wake up and save her. "Not yet."

"MOMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" wailed Christine as tears poured from her eyes and began soaking into her little spotted pink shirt. Unable to believe that the Honey Badgers had just murdered her mother, she continued staring down at Rosechu's maimed body, snuffling and weeping all the while. Why wasn't Mommy telling her that she was a pretty Rosey anymore? She wanted to know just how special and beautiful she was! She needed it! She deserved it!

Al smiled cruelly and patted the little chu on her head, ruffling her soft purple spikes. "The Legend killed Mommy. And now we get to have some fun together, little Chrissy." He placed the bat and its occupant on the concrete floor and began unwinding the duct tape, slowly, so as not to pull any of the narcissistic Rosey's precious little "shiny" hairs out. Yet.

"My Daddee's gonna zap you awl to da extweem wen he gets back fwom zappin da dang diwty Jewkops," Christine stated arrogantly, and shot Al what he assumed was supposed to be her grandfather's trademark Creepy Stare. "Gwampa Chwis says dat da Jewkops awe awl stoopid an dey wanna destwoy Twoo Wuv an dey tink dat Viwginia is fow Viwgins, NOT Twoo Wuv Coupwes! An…an Gwampa Chwis said dat Jewkops awe supposed ta be distwacted by cute Woseys!" She let out an intense stress sigh. "Dis is too haaaaaaawd! I wasn't weady! You'we awl cheatews! You wet me go! I'm gonna tewl Daddee an Gwampa Chwis! Wet me go!"

"We. Just. Killed. Your. Mother," Al emphasized, stating each word as clearly and simply as he could in the hopes of somehow breaking through the walls of Christine's fortress of denial. He stopped unwrapping her and turned the bat so she could see the remains of Rosechu's body.

Christine stress-sighed. "Dat's not da twoo an owiginal Mommee! Gwampa Chwis says da Twoo Wuv Coupwes wike Mommee an Daddee awe heawtsweets as wong as biwds tweet. You'we just jeawous 'cuz you'we homow jewk twolls an Mommee wuvs me 'cuz ima pwetty shiny Wosey!"

It was no use. Pained and stressed though she was, the stubborn Rosey simply refused to accept the truth that lay before her. In her mind, she was still in control, because she was such a special little shiny Rosey and the world would always sort out everything bad in her life because that's what Grandpa Chris had told her and Cera and Robbie every time he visited Mommy and Daddy.

"I don't wike dis stickee stuwff," Christine complained, sighing loudly and glaring up at Al. "I want my miwwor an I want Daddee an Gwampa Chwis ta make Mommee's heady bettewr an zap you to da extweem an I want my miwwor. I want my miwwor! I WANT MY MIWWOR!"

"Well, you can't have your mi-"

"I WANT MY MIWWOR NOW! NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!"

"SHUT UP! YOU CAN'T HAVE YOUR FUCKING MIRROR!" Al reached out and grabbed a large hunk of duct tape that was stuck directly to Christine's incredibly soft, sensitive belly fur.

"You said a bad wowd," said Christine, and crossed her armstubs haughtily. "I'm gonna tewl Daddee you said a bad wowd an made Mommee's heady huwt. Gimme back my miwwor!" All she cared about was the fact that the big mean stupid Jerkop wasn't giving her the mirror that she deserved after going through so much stress and having her Heart Level shattered so many times. Her cuteness hadn't gotten their awe like it was supposed to because they had cheated. They weren't treating her like the special shiny Rosey she was, because they were all stupid!

"One more time," growled Al. "Say one more thing about your mirror."

Christine smiled smugly. She'd won, and the Jerkop had given up, because she was in control, and stupid bad Jerkops couldn't possibly win against shiny Roseys and their cuteness!

"Hee hee!" she giggled. "My miww-"

RRRRRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPP!

"EEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAEEEEEAAAAAGGG GHHHHHHHH!" screeched Christine, her blue eyes bulging in unspeakable torment as Al tore the massive strip of duct tape right off of her fat little body, taking with it a good percentage of the exposed fur on her belly and sides, right under where her shirt had been pulled up in the chaos of Rosechu's beating. For the Rosey, it was the equivalent of having a man's chest, back, pubic, and facial hair yanked out by the roots all at once…only worse. Much, much worse.

"WAAAAAAAHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Tossing the hair-filled tape cocoon into the garbage where it belonged, Al snatched up Christine in one hand and dumped the struggling baby chu right in front of Allie as if she were a piece of trash, then sat down behind her and watched her squirm around on the floor. The Rosey shrieked and cried, bawling at the top of her lungs and squeezing her eyes shut while her skin blazed with pain. Massive clumps of her beautiful fur were now gone, ripped out a la Steve Carell in The 40-Year-Old Virgin. To her, the only thing worse than the horrible stinging sensation was knowing that Al had taken away her special shiny fur that made her so unique and beautiful.

"Right. That was fun." The Legend held out the crying larva to Allie. "Process her."

"Hold still, wittle bay-bee," crooned the Jerkop as she cuddled the Rosey in her arms. Christine's wails stopped momentarily, her infantile mind registering the presence of care and pity, an end to her pain and stress. Desperately seeking attention, she hugged the potential love giver's arm with her stubs and sniffled pathetically. Only when Allie's nails tightened around her headspikes did she realize how utterly, ludicrously wrong she had been to even consider trusting her tormenters.

Rrrrrip!

"WUH-WUH-WAAAAAAHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Christine screamed as she felt the little pink bow forcefully tearing out her uppermost quills. The root was firmly embedded in her head, and thus gave way to an incredibly agonizing wound when Allie pressed her against the floor and pulled it free. A trickle of blood shot down her face, but quickly slowed and stopped as her inherent healing factor took over. The pain was still there, though. No amount of her parents' DNA, no matter how great, could ever dull the suffering of Christine Rosey.

Allie removed the soft purple headspike from the bow, noting the drops of blood that smeared the root. With a satisfied smile, she dropped the bow into a Ziploc bag, sealed it, and handed it to Nate. Rolling the purple Rosey over onto her stomach, she plucked off both of her little shoes, bagged them, and withdrew the needle as well. Christine squealed in shock as blood squirted from the deep puncture. Smiling, Allie wiped the needle on the Rosey's torn fur and pocketed it.

"WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! MOMMEE AN DADDEE BOUGHT DOSE FOW MEEEEE!" bawled Christine, and began kicking and pounding the cold floor with her stubby limbs in helpless tard rage and stress. Tears pooled on the concrete beneath her hideous lizard eyes, and Allie couldn't tell whether it was because of the horrific discomfort in her belly and foot, or if the baby chu was simply having the worst tantrum of her spoiled life just because her precious little clothes were being taken away. Either way, the Rosey's screams pleased her immensely.

Rinse and repeat for shirt and skirt. Just for fun, Allie dropped the skirt by itself to see if its parachute function would activate, but the striped cloth simply dropped and crumpled, obeying the laws of physics. Only when it was wrapped around such a horrid and disgusting violation of everything good and natural in the world did its parachute properties actually manifest.

"WAAAAHHH! GIMME DOSE! GIMME BACK MY CWOTHES NOW NOW NOW NOW!" Fueled by a surge of blinding anger, the now-naked Christine pushed herself off the floor and waddled right up to Allie, then began hopping up and down in a pathetic attempt to reach the tiny articles of clothing that the Jerkop was currently bagging. Allie rolled her eyes and shoved the tard-raging Rosey away forcefully, sending her tumbling backwards head over stumpfeet.

Al, in the meantime, had retrieved a new object from the "shiny kit" – the electric shaver. While the little purple blob struggled to right herself, he knelt down and picked her up with one hand. Christine began kicking his arm defiantly, but unlike her brother Robbie, her feet were pitifully small, and without her shoes, they couldn't do much more than simply flail around like the little fleshy stumps they were. Biting her captor was no more effective, given her total lack of teeth.

"Christine," Al addressed her quietly, flipping her around in his hand so she could see him.

"WAAAAAAHHHHH! WET ME GO YOU STOOPID MEANIE HOMOW TWOLL JEWK!"

"Christine," repeated the Jerkop squad commander, to no avail. Squeezing her eyes shut, the purple Rosey shrieked in rage and pounded her weak little armstubs against his fingers, hoping that if she made as much of a fuss as possible, a big brave Sonichu would come and rescue her like Grandpa Chris said they were supposed to. She was a helpless damsel in distress, just like her mother, and she needed a big brave strong hero to save her from these heart-shattering jerks.

"WET ME GOOOOO!" she wailed. "WET ME GO WET ME GO WET ME GO WET ME-"

Al sighed in frustration. "Christine…you're an ugly Rosey."

Christine perked up immediately, her eyes widening in sudden disbelief. "Wat?"

"You," continued the Legend, smiling sadistically, "are the most disgusting, despicable, loathsome, self-absorbed, pathetic, hideous little beast I've ever had the pleasure of killing." Finally, a breakthrough. He should have realized it much earlier. "You're nothing special. You're not a shiny Rosey. You're an abomination, born of incest. You don't deserve any praise. You're ugly, fat, stupid, selfish, spoiled, weak, insufferable, and completely worthless."

There was no answer from Christine. Her eyes were bulging, her plump little body was shaking with uncontrollable hatred and shock, and her disgusting harelip mouth was hanging open so wide that Al could almost see right back into her esophagus. Behind her, Allie had sawed off a piece of flesh from a certain part of Rosechu's corpse and was roasting it over Trogdor's pilot light. She mouthed hold on a sec to Al, and winked knowingly.

Al winked back. "So now that I have your attention, 'Shining Rosey', let me tell you exactly what I'm going to do here. First, I'm going to-"

"I AM NOT UGWY OW FAT OW STOOPID!" shrieked Christine, and thrashed around so hard that Al actually almost lost his grip. He couldn't believe it…she'd actually demonstrated some legitimate effort for once in her life. A pity the same couldn't apply to her Chandler-nurtured, Sonichu and Rosechu-enforced, narcissistic mindset. But no. All three of the Sonichu brats were far, far beyond any form of redemption. There was no way the Honey Badgers would let any of them die with their spirits unbroken. Not after all they'd done to seize this one magnificent chance. Not after Jake and Amanda and Matt and Zoey and all of their dead friends and allies.

"YOU'WE WYING! I AM NOT UGWY 'CUZ IMA SPESHUL WOSEY AN YOU'WE JUST JEAWOUS 'CUZ MY CUTENESS GETS YOUWR AWE AN IM DA ONWY SHINY WOSEY IN DA WOWLD AN DAT MAKES ME SPESHUL AN PWETTY! WAAAHHH!" Christine continued screaming and crying, her eyes burning with frenzied fury as she raged and struggled and fired off misguided Sparks in every direction until her remaining fur was all standing straight up due to static. Al merely watched her spasm, smiling all the time. Reaching out, he accepted the cooked piece of Rosechu from Allie, waited until Christine opened her mouth to scream at him again, and stuffed the hunk of flesh right down her throat.

Unbelievably, the purple Rosey immediately ceased her tantrum and began chewing the meat with a happy cry of "YAY!" This was how it was supposed to be. Those mean jerks were finally realizing that she was just a helpless little baby and she needed food to get rid of all the Prickly-Wicklies and stress. Due to her lack of teeth, she could only gum the cooked flesh, but it was more than obvious just how much she was enjoying the treat.

"Dat was tastee!" she squealed, and glared up at Al expectantly as she swallowed, her face set in a smug smirk. "I want mowe foowd! Gimme mowe foowd NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!"

Al shrugged. "If you say so, wittle Wosey. White meat or dark meat?" He turned her around so she could see Allie carving another piece of bloody meat off of Rosechu's torso with her SOG knife, then piercing it like a shish kebab and roasting it over Trogdor's pilot light. The sugary meat caramelized almost instantly, hissing and sizzling with delicious juices and scents.

This, quite predictably, resulted in the moment of truth to end all moments of truth.

"Wuh…wuh…WUH...WUH…" stammered Christine, building toward the first and most terrible explosion of fear, betrayal, suffering, and pain she had ever felt in her almost three years of life. "WUUHH…WUUHHH…WUUUHHHH…WWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! WWWWWAAAAAAHHHAAAAHHAAAAAAAAAAA! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Al breathed out slowly, his eyes squeezed shut as he sat there in silence and listened to his tiny captive crack under the stress. Christine was screaming and screaming now, unable to stop, her mouth hanging open, her eyes bulging, and her stubby limbs flailing chaotically. To the Legend, every scream from the Rosey's mouth was a choir of angels singing in harmonious joy, every tear a drop of liquid diamond. It was beautiful, magnificent, a masterpiece of suffering. Christine Rosey's death, and everything leading up to it, would be his magnum opus.

"By the way," Allie added with a happy smile as she chucked the second piece of roast Rosechu steak across the room and down the screaming Rosey's throat. Perfect shot. "You ate Mommy!"

"WUUUUUUGH! WUUUGH! GUGHGUGHGUGHGUGHGUGH!" Christine choked, and tried to spit out the stringy flesh, but her freakish fused digestive tract wouldn't allow her to reject anything remotely edible. And unfortunately for her, Rosechu's flesh was extremely edible. It smelled and tasted delicious, too, and she was still satisfied with having devoured the snack, even though some small part of her undeveloped brain kept screaming at her that she'd just eaten part of her own mother. Truly, Christine and her kin were beyond any form of empathy known to sentient creatures. But the Jerkops had expected as much from the hideous spawn of Sonichu and Rosechu…or Rosechu and Magi-Chan, in Christine's case.

Al clicked on the electric shaver, savoring the harsh buzzing sound as he pressed the business end to the Rosey's fuzzy belly and pushed, shearing off the delicate peach fuzz to reveal the pale pink skin beneath. The duct tape had done a fair amount of work already, and it wasn't long before a small pile of purple fur lay on the floor beneath her. Allie gathered it all up in another plastic Ziploc bag, to save for a later occasion. When Christine finally realized what the Jerkops were doing, she screamed louder than ever and tried to zap the razor with a Spark, but only succeeded in giving it an extra boost while Al finished shaving her face.

"Hmm," mused the Legend as he brushed the rest of the fur off his victim and studied the bare Rosey, making note of her undeveloped headspikes, her exposed cheekspots, and the pair of soft quills on her back. "That's a lot better, don't you think, shiny Rosey?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" bawled Christine. It was amazing that she hadn't blown out her vocal cords yet. Another brilliant adaptation of the larval Electric Hedgehog Pokémon.

"Here, I gave you a makeover." Al stood up and carried her over to the massive mirror propped up against the wall. He smiled as he held her out, forcing her to look upon her bare, pudgy body. "See? I was right. You're ugly, Christine. You're the ugliest Rosey in the world.Disgusting."

"WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! WAAAAAAHHHHH! NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Al turned her around and tickled her little nose, chuckling to himself all the while. Christine tried to bite him, but without any teeth, this attempt at self-preservation didn't go well at all. Enraged, she summoned yet another Spark and zapped the Jerkop's hand, making his skin prickle slightly.

"Always with the Sparks," muttered Al. "But it's not gonna save you, Christine. Not at-"

"YOU'WE WYING! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! WAAAAAAHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAHHH!"

Al shook his head in utter astonishment. He couldn't believe it. He'd been certain…so certain that Christine had broken when she realized she'd been eating her dead mother's flesh. She knew…she knew Rosechu was dead. But she simply didn't care anymore. Already, the stubborn self-assuredness had returned, which meant only one thing. He'd have to start all over again.

"No," growled the Legend, and turned the shaved Rosey around to face the mirror. "NO."

"YES!" howled Christine. "IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA-"

"It's quiet time now," Al continued, trying his very hardest to keep his voice calm and suppress the rage that was building within. He took a step forward, bringing Christine closer to the object she loved more than anything in the world. "If you don't quiet down, I'll have to punish you."

"IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETT-"

Al took another step. "No, you're an ugly Rosey."

"IMA PWETTY WOSEY! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! IMA PWETTY WOSEY!"

It was the final straw. Al's eardrums were about to break, as was his mind. Turning to Allie and Nate, he reached up, pushed his mask back, and spoke only a single, hate-drenched word.

"Leave."

Allie opened her mouth to reply, but Nate placed a hand on her shoulder and led her towards the stairway. Christine was Al's to dispatch, but they could always watch Robbie or Cera's torment. When the two Jerkops had gone, Al flipped his welder's mask over his face and glared down at the bawling, shaved Rosey clutched in his hand.

"PUT ME DOWN NOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" shrieked Christine, pounding her tiny armstubs against Al's hand and squirming around like a plump fuzzy maggot.

"Sure thing," snarled the Legend, and drove his gloved fist straight into the mirror. The glass shattered instantly, a spiderweb of cracks that raced out to the frame in less than a second. Before Christine could draw breath for another scream, Al grabbed up his straight razor from the toolbox and, pinning the struggling Rosey to the floor with one hand, brought the viciously sharp blade down towards her fuzzy, bloody face with the other. She bawled shrilly and squeezed her eyes shut, but the defensive reaction was exactly what her aggressor had been waiting for.

Shick! Shick!

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Christine's piercing cries of terror and pain went all but unnoticed by Al as he sliced off each of her eyelids with surgical precision, exposing the slimy indigo orbs housed within. Blood poured like tears from a ragged ring around each socket, mixing with the real tears of the agonized, screaming Rosey. Laughing to himself, the Legend flicked away the two severed, eyelash-studded scraps of flesh and lunged with his other hand - the one holding her - smashing her head into the center of the cracked glass.

CRUNCH!

"NOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHGGHUGHUGHUUUG GH!" Christine raised her armstubs and tried to shield her beloved face, but to no avail. The jagged shards pierced her eyes like daggers, carrying on back through her corneas and embedding themselves in her soulless, reptilian eyeballs. Her cheekspots sparked and sizzled violently as the bioelectric organs ruptured, but unfortunately for her, there was no longer enough voltage within to fry her to death. She'd used up all her energy by firing off futile Sparks at her tormentors.

And Al still wasn't done with her. Not even close. : )

"Awww, did I hurt your pwecious wittle face?" he crooned with savage glee, and dumped the bleeding, crying, and blind Christine onto the cold floor. "Don't worry, I've got just the thing!"

Reaching for his "shiny kit", Al dragged it over and popped it open to reveal the goodies inside. As the Rosey struggled to crawl away, he placed one hand on her back, pinning her to the floor.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" she wailed, pawing at her shredded face in inconceivable despair. The prospect of her being a pretty Rosey had now been severely reduced.

Al didn't respond. Grabbing two circular shards of bloody, jagged glass, he flipped Christine over onto her back. There wasn't much left of her eyes anymore…her constant struggling had reduced them to two socketfuls of bloody mush mixed together with mirror shards. The cruel irony of her plight might have been enough for a lesser man than Albert Ledger, but he still wasn't satisfied. Christine needed to know pain unlike any known form of pain…and so far, he was doing an excellent job of bringing her there. All three of the Sonichu children were going to be pushed far beyond any kind of suffering the Honey Badgers had enacted on any Sonee or Rosey before, given that their DNA – being that of the original Sonichu and Rosechu – contained a healing factor…and no pain limit. That was the key here…surpassing that limit and showing the little brats just how far the Jerkops could push them before their chubby bodies gave out.

Pushing two fingers into the ragged mess that had once been Christine's eyeballs, Al scooped the slimy, bloody chunks of meat and optic nerve right out of their sockets, relishing the Rosey's wails of agony as she felt the rough fingers scraping around inside her head and removing her two shredded blue eyes. The last things that had made her look so special and unique and pretty were gone…ripped away in the blink of an eye. Christine screamed again and again, writhing around in her own blood and misery while Al deposited the gooey glass-encrusted mess into an empty Ziploc bag and popped open a second one. Inside lay a mixture of rock salt and table salt.

"Hold still!" instructed Al, and upended the bag over the Rosey's mutilated face.

"EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" screeched Christine, louder than ever before, as the salt poured into her bleeding eye sockets and infiltrated the deep cuts in her skin. At this point, a normal homebred or a feral Rosey would have either blacked out from the pain or died instantly of a brain hemorrhage caused by immense physical trauma, but then again, Christine was no normal homebred, and certainly no feral.

Desperately trying to get the burning white crystals out of her head, Christine began rubbing her eye sockets furiously, crying and shrieking as her fingerless stubs only managed to work the salt even further and deeper back into the horrific wounds. Al flicked the Zippo lighter a few times until he managed to start it, then pushed the Rosey's armstubs away from her face and jammed both of the mirror shards into the raw flesh around the edge of the sockets. Snatching her up in one hand, he positioned her contorted, blood-drenched face right next to the flickering flame.

"Having fun?" he chuckled.

"WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !" wailed Christine, struggling to reach the two cold, sharp objects Al had embedded in her face.

The Jerkop inched the Zippo closer to her bare skin. "Stop crying. This'll make it all better."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

"Eat it, fucker," Al said, lowering Christine's head into the fire.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, wiggling like crazy and trying to avoid the excruciating heat as the fatty flesh around her eyes bubbled and seared and began to fuse the shards of mirror with her face. Al held down her armstubs to keep her still while he worked, turning the lighter around and around to seal in the mirror circles. When he was finally satisfied, he released his grip on the Zippo and let it clatter to the floor, while Christine began making a series of strange choking sounds and batting at her own eyes, as if she somehow believed it would help remove the glass shards or reduce the pain in any way. The mirrors were well and truly a part of her now…yet she couldn't see a thing.

Al placed her on the floor and sat down cross-legged, closing his eyes as if in a meditative trance. Christine rolled around on the concrete pathetically, flailing and crying and screaming for her dead mother and her absent father and her lethargic, sluggish manchild of a grandfather. In the chaos of her own mind, Robbie and Cera didn't exist anymore. They couldn't help her. They couldn't save her. But now she was free! The big mean person had let her go, and now she could go tell Heather to call Daddy and Grandpa Chris! Grandpa Chris could make everything go back to the way it was! He'd make her a pretty Rosey again! He'd make her pretty again…

Thump! Christine howled in shock and agony as she crawled right into the side of the basement, smacking her malformed head against the wall and sending a fresh wave of agony racing through her little body. Mewling and blubbering, she tried to push herself up and waddle away, but the heavy rock salt inside her head threw her even more off-balance than she already was. After crawling around for a while, trying and failing to find the stairs a grand total of eight times in the course of four minutes, the tiny Rosey finally gave up and collapsed in a quivering heap of fat.

Al opened his eyes and smiled. Christine wasn't even screaming anymore – she had expended the majority of her energy in her futile escape attempts. Faint moans and shuddering gasps were all she could muster now as she lay panting and gasping on the cold concrete floor – broken, blind, shaved bare, and in constant agony. Her innate healing ability was running at full power, knitting together some of the smaller wounds on her face and body…which, unfortunately for her, had the unwanted side effect of sealing the pieces of rock salt inside, where they burned against the Rosey's raw flesh like tiny lumps of molten magma. Combined with the wounds in her face and the fire-fused mirror shards that had now trapped the piles of stinging salt inside her empty eye sockets, the sheer intensity of Christine's suffering was simply unmatched.

"How do you feel now, wittle Wosey?" Al asked with mock sympathy.

"Wuhhh…wuhhh…WUHHH…WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH HHHH!" Christine managed to unleash another shriek of terror as the Jerkop's frighteningly calm voice rang in her little ears. "WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Al walked over, bent down, and snatched up the tiny struggling Rosey in a single hand. Christine screamed as she felt his fingers close around her and lift her up off the floor. Something cold and metallic – a pair of tweezers – pushed their way in through her harelip mouth, forcing it open as she desperately tried to spit them out. She began coughing and panicking, nearly vomiting up her lunch as the steel pincers slowly made their way to the back of her throat and clamped shut around the base of her slimy, wriggling tongue like a vice.

"WWWWUUUUUGHGHGHGGGGHH!" she choked, struggling against the Legend's grip.

"Oh, be quiet," said Al happily as he pulled the tweezers back, hard. : )

RRRRIP!

"WUGHGH! GUGHGHGHGHGHH!" Christine screamed and gurgled as her severed tongue emerged from between her harelips, its rear end a motley mess of tattered red flesh. Al dropped the repulsive thing onto the floor, where it twitched one last time and lay limp like a little slug, its meager blood supply pooling beneath the point where he'd wrenched it out of her mouth. The horrified Rosey began spasming and shaking, clutching at her mouth, spitting out blood, and making all sorts of strangled choking noises. If Al didn't do something, she was going to drown.

Fortunately for him, he just happened to have packed that exact "something" in the "shiny kit". Unfortunately for Christine, it wasn't anythingclose to medicine. Popping open the bottle of lemon juice, Al poured a tablespoon of the sour liquid into the plastic cap and tipped it into the Rosey's open, bleeding mouth before she knew what was happening. He could have sworn he heard it sizzle as it touched the wound. Then came the most piercing, anguished screams of all.

"WWWWUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH! WWWUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HRRRRGGGGHHHHHEEEEEEEEEIIIIIEEEEIIIIIIIIIEEEEEIIII IIIEEEEEEEEEEEHHH!"

"Wow, Christine, that's great!" commented the Legend. "Now your voice actually makes sense!"

Christine tried to cry out again, but ended up vomiting a gooey spew of blood, half-digested food, and mucus onto her captor's hands. "HUUURRGGGHHHH! HUUUURRGGGHHH!"

"Disgusting." Al wiped the reddish brown mess on Christine's pudgy belly and reached for the Zippo lighter again. "What's Daddy gonna say when he comes home and finds his little princess all dirty?" He flipped it open and held it under one of the Rosey's frantically kicking stumpfeet. "I wonder if Kuri ever tried roasting them like this. Oh well. Nothing ventured…"

"WUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!" wailed Christine, unable to form her species' signature "WAAAAAHHHHH!" without a tongue. The flame licked hungrily at her bare foot, turning the flesh crispy and black. Her body's own adipose tissue was melting, sizzling, frying her alive like a juicy slice of bacon in a pan. "WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"…nothing gained," sighed Al as he lifted his mask and sank his teeth into the caramelized meat of Christine's right stumpfoot. It was like biting into a big Fruit Gusher made of bacon – crispy, decadent, squirming, and just a little bit sweet from all the sugar in her blood. And best of all, the pitiful excuse for a leg was already cauterized, so she wouldn't bleed out while he ate her alive.

"WUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!" Christine kicked out with her other foot and managed to land a pitiful little bump on the side of Al's cheek. For a moment, she dared to hope that good would prevail, that her act of defiance was enough to quell the stupid jerk and make him stop giving her the Prickly-Wicklies. Then the heat was back, burning against her left stumpfoot like hot coals and making her skin char up and the fat reserves in her leg bubble and melt into a greasy slick.

Bit by bit, Al nibbled away at both of the cooked limbs and even sucked the sugary marrow out of her bones, pausing only to break out the lighter and cauterize any veins he might have broken while dining on the half-cooked Rosey. The bones themselves was edible too, like sticks of rock candy. When he'd finished, he placed the baby chu on the floor and watched her try to crawl away using her armstubs. It wasn't really crawling so much as it was flailing, but Al didn't mind. Her shrill squeals and wails were more than enough to quench his thirst for misery and suffering.

Enthralled as he was with watching the legless Rosey wriggle around on the floor, Al had to keep reminding himself that his executioner squad was working on borrowed time. As Christine blubbered and managed to drag her mutilated body another half-inch away from him, the Jerkop leaned down and held the flame against the tip of her doughy arm. The baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon let out an earsplitting screech and tried to roll herself away from the searing heat, but Al held her down with his other hand and kept his thumb on the Zippo lighter's trigger until both armstubs were sufficiently cooked to a delicious crispy brown. Once again, the horrible nibbling, crunching, and cauterizing commenced, until Christine no longer had any limbs to move at all. She just lay there in a growing pool of blood and pus, rolling back and forth helplessly and shrieking "WWWUUUUUUUUHHHHHH!" over and over again – her mantra of suffering.

Al chewed and swallowed the last mouthful of cooked Rosey, licking the grease from his fingers as he watched the baby chu writhe and wriggle across the concrete like a hideously obese worm. He made a mental note to let Kuri know about his new cooking method…after she and Steve had finished dispatching Robbie, of course. Come to think of it, what had the two Jerkops even been doing to Sonichu's spunky little son to pass the time? Christine must have been at death's door by now, but even something as sweet as that could wait. Her regenerative powers would keep her alive long enough for Al to finish what he'd started. It was time to check on the others.

Grasping Christine by her stubby tail, the Legend plucked her up off the floor and let her dangle in midair while she sobbed and wailed as her body was wracked by never-ending spasms of burning pain. Al knew she had long ago passed the standard endurance limit for regular Sonees and Roseys – most likely from the rock salt in her eyes and the lemon juice in her mouth. If she hadn't had Rosechu and Magi-Chan's DNA, her tiny brain would have hemorrhaged itself into oblivion after enduring such nightmarish levels of torture and dismemberment. Just for good measure, he stuffed her into the big Ziploc bag full of salt, closed it up, poured the rest of the bottle's contents inside, and began shaking the entire agonizing concoction up and down until Christine's bleeding, mutilated body had been drenched in a stinging wash of salted lemon juice.

"WWWWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, gasping for air and crying out in misery as the stinging liquid splashed into every cut and injury on her body. "WWWWWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Al made his way out of the workroom and up the stairs, taking note of the odd giggling sounds coming from Cera's room down the hallway. What on earth were Kevin and Jexis doing to her? At the top of the stairs, the Jerkop pushed open the door and was promptly greeted by an immensely satisfying sight. Steve and Kuri had pinned Robbie against the counter and were now force-feeding him copious amounts of Break You Dead hot sauce by using the Sonee's plastic baby bottle as an injector, squirting it alternately into his mouth and his butthole while he struggled and writhed in pain and fear. As the Sonee's muffled-but-high-pitched squeals of agony filled the kitchen, Al gave the Jerkops an encouraging nod and left them to their foul task.

"WUBBEEEHHHHH!" Upon hearing her brother's cries of pain, Christine began wriggling around inside the plastic bag, desperately calling for help as best she could with no tongue and a mouth full of salt, lemon juice, and her own blood. "WUBBEEH! HUWP MWEEEEEEHHHH!"

Robbie just lay there and screamed shrilly. The sauce had temporarily blinded him, and he was shrieking so loudly that his sister's anguish might as well have been nothing at all. Even if he'd been able to hear her cries, he wouldn't have cared about Christine one bit, due to his own stress. Rolling his eyes, Al gave the bag another shake to refresh the Rosey's suffering. If all went according to his gruesome plan, she only had a few more minutes left to live. It was up to him to make sure those few minutes lasted as long as possible in the horrid little baby chu's mind.

The garage was dark and silent when he opened the door and stepped inside. Flicking the light switch on, Al chuckled as he gazed at the two ridiculous go-karts for Sonichu and Rosechu that were parked behind the big family sedan. His laughter quickly stopped as soon as he noticed three tiny go-karts, one pink, one purple, and one yellow, on the floor beside the larger vehicles.

"How on earth would you three furfags even be able to steer?" he muttered to the bawling Rosey, and tossed the Ziploc bag on top of the washing machine, where it sloshed around and refilled her wounds with the stinging liquid. "You don't even have fingers. I bet you stunted little grubs would've just gone and killed yourselves with Mommy and Daddy's special Christmas presents. Which reminds me…did Grandpa Chris get you anything?" He grinned as Christine realized that she hadn't received anything from Chandler for Christmas. The revelation that her own grandpa didn't think she was special was enough to prompt a bout of screaming on the level of the ones she had made when Al first introduced her to her new best friends - rock salt and lemon juice.

"Of course he didn't. It was the stress, you know." Al nodded sympathetically, then raised a foot over the purple kart and stomped down, hard. The machine shattered into pieces, reduced to a useless pile of plastic and metal while Christine wailed in despair at hearing the sound of her beloved toy's destruction. Whistling "Highway to Hell" to himself, the Legend pried open the washing machine's control panel and began tinkering around with the heating system. It was simple, really. Just turn off the cold water valve and increase the hot water supply to maximum power. In no time, he'd have a nice hot bath for Christine to splash around and play in.

"Wuuuuuhhhhh…wuuuuuuuhhhhhhh…WUH!"

Al looked up just in time to see the tiny limbless Rosey trying to squirm her way over the edge of the washing machine. Without a parent or her nanny around to save her, she might have plunged all the way down to the hard concrete floor and shattered her fragile skull…if the Jerkop hadn't simply pushed her into the middle and flipped her onto her back. Al simply couldn't believe how utterly careless Sonichu and Rosechu had been with their own beloved babies. Their house was an absolute mess, full of deadly objects that the larvae could have easily killed themselves with. The only reason any of the three children hadn't done that already was because of Heather Iglesias. Maybe if the PVCC had simply instructed her to abandon them and let them die from their own stupidity and curiosity, the Honey Badgers wouldn't have been needed at all.

But no. That would have been far too easy. Operation Hedgeclipper wasn't just about killing three homebreds and their mother. It was about sending a message to every Electric Hedgehog Pokémon in CWCville who saw Robbie, Christine, and Cera as the poster children for the progression of their species and looked to Rosechu as their queen. It was about destroying what little hope they had left to cling to in the face of the uprising. Even now, across the city, hundreds of PVCC operatives and thousands of human citizens waited in anticipation of the firestorm to come. At last, at long last, the key to igniting the city in all-out war was in their grasp.

And the final battle would begin with the deaths of Rosechu and the Sonichu spawn.

Al stood up and wiped his wet hands on his trench coat as the washing machine started rumbling. Scalding water gushed in from the rerouted valves and rose quickly, until it was nearly spilling over the edge of the central drum. Clouds of steam filled the air, and Christine began making breathless little squeals as the heat from within the washing machine began to reach her tortured little body. Al let her roll around for a few more seconds before finally rescuing her from the makeshift frying pan and turning off the water. Before she could feel any semblance of relief, he gave the bag a few more shakes and was rewarded with another barrage of agonized screams.

It was time to make an end of Christine once and for all. Part of Al wanted to put her inside a canteen or a similar container and clip her to his belt during the final battle, so her suffering could last even longer than it already had. If his squad hadn't been on a time budget, he might have actually considered that. But the cameras were rolling too, and everyone in CWCville – both humans and chus - needed to see the Sonichu children die. He owed them that much.

Al placed the bag and its plump, wailing occupant inside, making sure that Christine would feel the direct heat of the steaming hot water on her belly. It wouldn't completely boil her to death…if she kept moving, that is…but it would hurt like hell, which suited him just fine. As expected, the Rosey began rolling back and forth in an attempt to escape the heat, shrieking and bawling as she continued immersing herself in the stinging bath of rock salt and lemon juice. Every move she made only added to her torment, and she had to keep moving, or otherwise the heat would start to boil her flesh. It was a brilliant invention, really. Better still, Kevin had placed a camera inside the washer itself to broadcast every moment of her horrific death across the city.

A perpetual pain machine – the perfect fate for little Christine. : )

Al had come up with the idea in a drunken dream, and somehow, this was even better than his imagined version. The Rosey could end it at any time she wanted – if she would only lie still, the heat around her would cook her body alive. Somehow, the idea that giving up and dying might be easier hadn't yet crossed her vacuous little mind. In the middle of that perfect storm of agony, she still harbored some tiny hope that her real father Sonichu would be back to save her, that somehow Grandpa Chris could retcon it all away and give her back everything that the Jerkops had taken away. And this one grain of hope was enough to keep her fighting, thrashing and wriggling and increasing her own levels of pain more and more and more, until the amount she was bearing would have made even a Cenobite cringe. With no limit to her suffering, she edged toward madness, screaming and screaming until her voice finally broke and gave out.

"WWWWUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH! WUUUUUHHH! WUUUUUUHHHHHHH! WUH…HUH…HUHHHH…HHHHHHHHGHGHGHGHGHHHH…HHHHHHHHHHHHH !"

Soon nothing but rasping sobs could be heard over the bubbling, steaming, and hissing sounds from within the washing machine. As Christine continued to cry and unsuccessfully attempt to scream, Al knelt down in front of her and patted her gently on the head with a gloved hand.

"There, there," he whispered mockingly, stroking the weeping baby chu's tiny, shaved ears through the plastic bag. "What a disgusting little creature you are. What a hideous, despicable maggot. I wish you could see how pretty and unique and special you are now, shiny Rosey."

"Hghhhhhhhhhhhh…" wheezed Christine as she tried to wiggle away. "Hghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"

"That's right," continued Al, and leaned in close to her head. "Now I'm gonna tell you a little secret about me, Christine. Do you like secrets?" He laughed softly while the dying baby chu thrashed beneath his grip and squealed hoarsely. "Your, uh, 'parents'…did Mommy and Daddy ever tell you scary stories about the Big Mean Person? The troll who kills little babies like you?"

Christine froze. Somewhere within the fiery layers of agony wracking her brain, memories of her mother and father materialized, as if from smoke. With their horribly-designed nervous systems, Roseys usually forgot all but their happiest or most important memories within a matter of days, at best. But even the normally-forgotten ones could be triggered by something traumatic enough. In Christine's case, that quota had been surpassed about fifteen minutes ago.

It wasn't a happy memory, to be sure…one of the few truly stressful times in Christine's spoiled, pampered life. No wonder she'd forgotten it so quickly. One night, Sonichu and Rosechu had attended a meeting with Chris and the Chaotic Combo at the CWCville Shopping Center, leaving Heather alone to take care of the kids and put them to sleep. After enduring nearly seven hours of Family Guy, listening to the insufferable brats try to sing along to the opening theme, and cleaning up after Robbie whenever he waddled off to relieve himself in some random part of the house, the poor nanny had nearly reached her breaking point. Having gorged themselves on five boxes of Oreos and a gallon of chocolate milk for a "bedtime snack", the little chus quickly grew hyperactive and demanded, by whining at the top of their lungs, that Heather tell them a story.

And so she had. When she'd finished the gruesome tale, Robbie was sitting in a puddle of diarrhea, quite literally scared shitless. The two Roseys were hugging each other, crying with fear and oblivious to the horrible smell wafting through the room. Heather dutifully took Robbie away to clean him off in the sink, but she had seemed so happy to do it, an emotion rarely exhibited by the overworked and overstressed nanny. The children hadn't slept at all that night, or the next, or the next. When they finally began collapsing out of stress and exhaustion during the day, Sonichu and Rosechu's inquiries to Heather were met with a brick wall of true Spanish, none of which they could understand. Of course the nanny could speak English, but this small victory had been worth risking her job. Anyway, the baby chus forgot about it within a week.

But now that horrible memory was back, and Christine's head was filled with frightening images of the Big Mean Person melting a tiny Rosey's face off, the Big Mean Person forcing dozens of Sonees and Roseys into a Mister Bucket and chopping them up to feed the other prisoners of Laughyland, the Big Mean Person ordering the two hellhounds to gobble up and maim any children who disobeyed…and most shocking of all, the Big Mean Person blinding a Rosey and burning out her eyes, then removing her armstubs, stumpfeet, and tongue…

If Christine had still possessed her eyes, they would have grown to the size of tennis balls by now. The final puzzle piece had fallen into place at last. Her little mouth fell open as she realized the horrific truth of what her tormenter and soon-to-be murderer was about to tell her.

The Legend smiled as he slowly rose to his feet and placed his hand on the washing machine's circular door, then leaned in close to the Rosey's ear so she could hear his final, bitterly cruel sendoff. Inch by inch, he began pushing the door shut, slowly sealing Christine inside for the last few excruciating minutes she had left to live.

"That's my secret, Shining Rosey," he whispered, and gave the door one last push. "I'm BMP."

Al never heard Christine's shrill voice return with a vengeance, nor could he hear her final, unsurpassed screams of pure terror as her mind finally shattered into insanity, nor could he hear the frantic clanging and splashing from within the steamy, superheated drum of the washing machine. All he heard was a sharp click as the automatic lock snapped shut, and a second, softer click as he pushed the START CYCLEbutton on the control panel and stepped back to watch.

Inside, the drum began to spin, and boiling jets struck Christine from every conceivable angle, filling the empty space with superheated water and plunging the helpless, dismembered Rosey into a bubbling, steaming hell from which there was no escape. The plastic bag's zippered seal immediately burst, sending the baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon tumbling out and into the blistering maelstrom. As if the lemon juice, salt, and heat weren't enough, Al had added a full bottle of OxiClean detergent to the washer, building off of Kevin's idea back at Soup Hotel #4.

Surrounded by liquid pain, Christine spun and spun like an ugly, bloody little blob of meat, swelling up as she was literally boiled alive by the stinging, surging wash. The broken bioelectric glands in her cheekspots fizzled and sparked and overloaded with more energy than she could have ever recharged by herself, electrocuting the entire washing machine and granting it an extra boost of power to continue giving the Rosey her bubble bath of death. And as her flesh expanded and popped off her bones, as her skin ruptured and burst apart in a cloud of blood, as the salt and citric acid in the water tore at her raw, unprotected body, and even as the final spark of life fizzled out of her little body, Christine's mind kept on disintegrating, leaving only a blubbering, gibbering, wretched creature behind to spin and bleed and suffer and drown in complete misery.

In the second before she finally expired and joined her mother, a distant scream echoed through the back of Christine's skull, a familiar voice that she hadn't heard speak to her inside her head since that day long ago when she'd chased the little frog through the pond in CWC-Central Park. It was a cry of anguish, a shriek of absolute failure, the sort of sound that a fatally poisoned man might make as he watched the only vial of antidote shatter before his eyes. Then came a sudden stab of something intangible, something massive and fierce, something that broke through the clouds of insanity and pierced the dying Rosey in the center of her tiny brain.

In that instant, she knew. It was the last thought she would ever have – a single thought that would repeat itself over and over in her broken mind as she whirled on down to the gates of hell, to an eternity of infinite suffering, more excruciating than anything Albert Ledger had conjured.

And when the silent scream finally ended, so too did Christine Rosey's life.

"Well, that was fun," mused Al to himself as he turned and left Christine to keep spinning and spinning until someone turned off the washing machine. He'd set it to run for as long as it had a constant power supply, so Sonichu's daughter would literally be boiled into oblivion by the time the true and original Electric Hedgehog Pokémon finally lost interest in pursuing the Picklemen. There wouldn't be much of the little Rosey left for her father to weep over…just a few scraps of boiled meat, clumps of adipose tissue, a jumbled skeleton, and a hell of a lot of blood.

Rosechu, on the other hand… Al snickered as he pictured the look of horror on Sonichu's face upon finding his heartsweet naked and dead with her head smashed in. Her blood was still drying on the Jerkop's boots, and if he survived the final battle, Al would make sure he neverwore them again. Maybe in a few years, they'd be worth a fortune. "The Boots That Stomped Rosechu."

Back in the kitchen, Steve and Kuri had made a bowl of popcorn together, and were now sitting at the table and watching Robbie flail around and shriek in unbearable pain as he struggled to purge the horrible burning sauce from his pudgy body. The little Sonee was still trapped in the glass jar, unable to climb the slippery walls to safety or escape from the rising tide of Break You Dead and excrement. Soon he would be facing death by literally drowning in his own molten shit. The Jerkops were force-feeding him just enough of the sauce to fill up the jar, and judging by the wet splattering sounds coming from inside, the blazing liquid was passing right through him by now. It was one of the cruelest perpetual tortures that Al had ever seen…and he loved it.

As the red-orange and brown liquid reached Robbie's chin, the Sonee began to bob up and down like a fat yellow cork. For a moment, it seemed as if he would float to the top and avoid being immersed in the foul mixture. Before Steve or Kuri could act, Al stepped into the kitchen and pressed the plastic wrap back over the top, shoving Robbie's entire head below the surface. The submerged Sonee immediately let loose with a horrific bubbly wailing sound as his eyes, nose, and mouth were exposed to a bath of 16 million Scoville heat units. The sauce flooded in through every orifice, creating a horrendous in-and-out cycle as he continued to stress-shit himself.

"That," the Legend muttered, "is fucking brilliant. Let me guess…you still haven't started yet?"

The Jerkops grinned and nodded simultaneously. Glancing across the kitchen, Al noticed a large deep fryer warming on the counter, filled with a mixture of canola oil and the leftover Break You Dead. The bubbly, smoking tub was just big enough to accommodate the body of a baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what Steve and Kuri had planned for Robbie's method of execution.

"Okay, that's it. Get him out before he drowns," Al suggested after another minute had passed.

"BWUHBWUHBWUHWUHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" blubbered the sauce-soaked Sonee as Kuri poked the injector claws of her tekko-kagi into the jar and pierced his belly, just enough to lift him out to safety. Covered from head to stumpfeet in a red and brown mixture of Break You Dead and his own feces, Robbie could only flail around blindly, screaming and crying. The Jerkop unceremoniously dumped him into the sink and turned both taps on at full force, blasting the little chu with a high-pressure stream of water. Kuri made sure to pour some dish soap into the puncture wounds on his tummy, scrubbing Robbie alternately with a rough sponge and some steel wool until the shrieking Sonee was sufficiently cleaned up and tenderized.

BZZZT! The deep fryer buzzed loudly and a red light blinked on, just as Kuri finished cleaning the last drops of hot sauce out of Robbie's fur. A vicious, vengeful grin spread across Steve's face at the sound of the buzzer, while Al wisely adjourned to the Battle Bus to watch the show. The rest of CWCville would have to settle for the camera footage of each larva's death, but damn it, he was Albert Ledger, and he was going to witness the demise of the Sonichu brats firsthand.

"Remember to keep it under fifteen minutes," Al instructed the Jerkops as he ascended the steps to the bus. "I mean, this is fun and all, but we've still got a revolution to kick off."

"Look, Al, we know all that shit already," Steve interrupted as he dumped the bawling Sonee into a metal fryer basket and held it over the oil. "Trust me, there's still plenty of time for this."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHH!"

Robbie Sonee shrieked and wailed, a pitiful high-pitched sound that only grew in its intensity the further Steve lowered him into the deep fryer. Millimeter by millimeter, the hot oil enveloped the soles of his sneakers and continued on toward the tops of his feet. Through the bubbling liquid, Steve could see the pair of battery-blue running shoes melting, fusing with the little Electric Hedgehog Pokémon's flesh while Robbie struggled and kicked and splashed around to no avail.

"WAAAAAAHHHH! NOOOOO! STAWP IT! STAWP IT! STAAAWWWWWP IIIITTTTTT! WAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" screamed the Sonee as he felt the oil seeping and sizzling through the gaps in his shoes to burn his vulnerable feet within. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! MOMMEEEEEEEEEE! DADDEEEEEEEEEE! HEWP MWEEEEEEEEEE!" Trapped inside the steel mesh fryer basket that was usually meant to hold meat or potatoes, he could only flail and hop around helplessly, like someone forced to dance on hot coals, but much, much worse. It was agony like he'd never felt before, like he'd never even imagined could possibly exist.

After about a minute of letting his captive's stumpfeet fry to a delicious golden-brown crisp, Steve pulled Robbie out of the oil and upended the basket, unceremoniously dumping the disgusting yellow fuzzball out onto a wooden cutting board. He reached for his kukri to finish the job, then stopped. No. Not yet. Emily, Blanca, and Richter hadn't put their best Jerkops out on the chopping block just so he could put down Sonichu's son with a simple decapitation. He and Kuri were going to savor every last beautiful moment of this glorious evening.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" bawled Robbie as he stared in disbelief and horror at the two useless, lumpy blobs of fried flesh and melted plastic that had once been his beloved feet and his little blue sneakers. His diminuitive cholesterol-clogged heart pounded again and again in absolute fear, threatening to burst through his ribcage with every panicked, overworked beat.

"Vivian didn't say what condition the shoes had to be in, did she?" Steve asked as he picked up a Cutco steak knife and ran his finger along its serrated blade.

Kuri shook her head. The look in her eyes as she eyed the sharp utensil was one comparable to a gaze of pure lust. "Please, Steve. Not yet. Let me do something first."

Steve considered the offer for a moment, then smiled. "Well, as long as you let me watch."

"Watch? Steve, you're gonna be my lovely assistant for this magic trick."

"Wat awe you doing?" Robbie whimpered fearfully. "Stawp it! Weave me awoooooone!"

"Hold him down and open…it…up for me," ordered Kuri with a shudder of revulsion, ignoring her victim's pathetic pleas. Steve obediently pinned the Sonee to the board with a single hand. With his other, he drove the tip of his steak knife into the soft folds of skin that housed Robbie's internal genitals and forcefully sawed through the cartilaginous flap, splitting it open to reveal the baby chu's miniscule, abnormally-angled pickle and a tiny pair of undeveloped testes.

"EEEEEEEEEEAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!" screeched Robbie as a stream of blood squirted from the wound. Kuri giggled and waited for the little red geyser to subside, then poked it, driving one of her tekko-kagi's claws into the mutilated opening. As the Sonee screamed and kicked, she pushed the steel blade further in and hooked the tip around the base of his scrotum.

"NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT MY PEE-PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

RRRIP! The claw sheared through Robbie's genitals in less than a second, lopping them off at the base. For a moment, Kuri just held the crotch flap open with her knife and stared in disgust at the limp, crooked red tube and the little sack of skin that contained his balls, ignoring the baby chu's wretched cries and screams as he flailed around and tried ineffectively to kick her with his useless fried feet. Satisfied, she poked another knife into her victim's crotch flap, pulled the repulsive mess out in one piece, and dumped it into the hot oil, smiling callously.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Robbie let out a desperate shriek, which immediately intensified when Kuri added some BYD and a few grains of kosher salt to the injury. The Sonee nearly passed out then and there, but since he possessed a powerful mixture of the same DNA as the original Sonichu and Rosechu, it was completely impossible for him to faint or die from blood loss. Most of his blood supply kept regenerating at an abnormally fast rate, feeding off his natural supply of baby fat for energy, as well as the specialized chemical in his heart that Chandler had deemed a Heart Level. All he could do was to shudder and scream and writhe on the cutting board, listening to his genitals sizzle and pop inside the big deep fryer.

It wasn't right! It wasn't fair! Daddy and Grandpa Chris had told him that he would have a family of his own someday, but now these big mean people had ripped his pickle right off! How could he do hanky-panky with a Rosechu when he evolved? Now he'd never have a Sweetheart from the Ground-Up of his own…unless Grandpa Chris could make everything all better! He always knew how to make everything better! For a moment, Robbie tried to be brave and endure the pain, like his grandfather had bravely endured the slings and arrows of outrageous trolling.

Then he remembered the fact that his pickle had just been severed not half a minute ago.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed shrilly, gazing down in horror at the ragged flap of skin between his stumpfeet that was now squirting blood with every beat of his panicked heart. Robbie wailed and screeched again in shock and agony, wriggling and bleeding while Kuri flipped the useless reproductive organs onto their uncooked side with a pair of tongs and let them cook, humming a tune to herself while she watched the Sonee cry and his pickle fry.

A necessity, really, she thought with a cruel laugh. It would almost have been enough to leave the Sonee a crippled, emasculated eunuch for the rest of his life, never to know the artificial love that a Rosechu would have provided him had he lived long enough to evolve. But on camera, that option was no longer possible. At least Robbie would die in complete misery, without his pickle.

"All done!" the Jerkop called out cheerfully after another few seconds. Grabbing two chopsticks, she plucked the stringy mess out of the oil and held it over the Sonee's face. "Eat up, Robbie!"

Before Robbie could protest, Kuri stuffed the flash-fried lumps of pickle meat and testicles right into his harelip mouth and grasped his chin and upper jaw in her hands. He spluttered and fought to spit them out, but the Jerkop was in full control of his toothless jaws now, forcing him to nibble and bite until the crispy meaty taste saturated the inside of his mouth. Eventually, his own insatiable hunger took over, and Kuri no longer needed to help the little chu chew.

"You ever had Rocky Mountain Oysters?" she asked Steve, stepping back to watch the show.

"Nope," replied the Jerkop. "And now I never will."

Robbie chewed and sobbed, savoring his pickle's rich flavor and smooth texture through its delicate fried coating. His tears gradually slowed and stopped, and bit by bit, he forgot what exactly it was that he'd been eating all this time. What he did know was that it was good…it was really, really good, like the delicious meals Mommy always prepared for him and his sisters. Smiling, he swallowed the mouthful of cooked genitalia and smacked his harelips in enjoyment. His mutilated crotch had stopped squirting blood, and the pain in his stumpfeet had died down to a dull ache now, the kind of ache he normally felt after he either tried to run really fast or tripped.

This wasn't so bad. Whenever Grandpa Chris visited, he had always made sure to tell him and his sisters about the necessity of recycling! All that Robbie had to do was wait for a little bit, and his body would just make him a new pickle out of the old one. Then he could still have his True and Honest Sweetheart from the Ground-Up when he evolved and not be a virgin with rage for the rest of his life! He'd zap to the extreme and run fast and save the day, just like his father!

"Hmm. Guess he liked it." Steve leaned in close to the Sonee's blank, grease-smeared face. "Did you wike dat tasty snack, Wobbie?"

"Uh huuuuhhh…" Lost in his hallucination, Robbie wasn't paying attention at all. "Awe we goin ta da hoss-pitaw, Daddee?"

Steve leaned toward Kuri. "Watch this." He pinched his nose with one hand and began speaking in a nasal, very whiny voice. "Yes partner; we are at CWCville General Hospital and there is a nice man named Doctor Steve waiting to fix you right up. He is going to make your feet all better!"

"Oh, Arceus," chuckled Kuri, and rolled her eyes. "This is gonna be good."

"YAY! I wuv you, Daddee!" Robbie squealed happily as Steve ducked down under the counter and rose up again with the Cutco knife in hand. This time, the voice was none but his own.

"Well now, little Robbie, what seems to be the problem?" he asked with mock kindness.

"Dis big mean pywat wif wun eye an dis nasty bwoo waydee wif howns bwoke my pee-pee an made my feet huwt wealwy bad!" the Sonee explained quickly, clutching the wound in his crotch with his stubs. "I need my feet fow wunning! Daddee said you'we gonna hewp me get betta!"

"Well, Daddy's right!" Steve replied, and smiled coldly. His soon-to-be patient didn't notice.

"My Daddee's awways wight!" Robbie stated with his typical vexingly smug certainty while the Jerkop flipped him over onto his tummy. "Daddee's da owiginal Sonichu, an his daddy is Gwampa Chwis! An Daddee says dat wun day, I'm gonna wun as fast as Daddee, an Daddee's da fastewst!"

"As fast as Daddy, huh?" asked Steve as he positioned the steak knife right above the point where Robbie's left foot connected with his chubby little body. "You absolutely sure about that, Robbie?"

Robbie nodded eagerly and let out a squeal of joy. "YEAH! An Daddee says dat he's gonna teach me how ta wun wivvout twipping, 'cuz wun day I'll be as fast as-"

"Heh. No, you won't," laughed the Jerkop, and plunged the absurdly sharp blade into the stumpfoot's flesh, down through the crisp fried skin and gooey burnt plastic. "Not anymore."

"WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Robbie screeched in shock and horror as the big steak knife sliced into the tenderized fatty meat of his precious, beloved foot. His fevered illusions of the hospital shattered instantly, and suddenly he was back in the bloody kitchen, staring up at Steve's merciless grin with his big terrified reptilian eyes.

"NO! NOOO! NOOOOOOO! I NEED MY FEET FOW WUNNING!" he squealed as the Jerkop cut deeper and deeper with every stroke. Steve was at the middle of Robbie's foot now, grinding the knife's serrated edge down against solid bone. The blade wasn't designed to slice through anything tougher than steak, so he instead worked his way in a circle until he'd cut a rough ring-shaped incision around the thick central foot bone. Robbie floundered and flopped around like an epileptic fish, thumping his armstubs uselessly against the blood-soaked wooden cutting board and shrieking like a miniature banshee. As his pain soared to new heights, the horrified Sonee felt a strange, sickening sensation building in his chubby belly, one he knew would result in…

"HUUUURRRRRGGGHHH!" Robbie promptly lost control and vomited in anguish, spewing up a burning mess of half-digested food, Break You Dead sauce, feces, and CWC Cola, along with the shredded, fried remains of his own genitals. For a moment, the Sonee's retching ceased, and he was struck by the faint, desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, if he reached it in time, he could recycle his severed pickle again and regenerate a new one...

...until Kuri speared the tiny scrap of meat on her tekko-kagi and plunged it into the bubbling grease once more, burning it until its entire mass had been reduced to little more than carbon and completely annihilating any lingering chance of reconstituting it. Laughing cruelly, the Jerkop withdrew the tiny blackened piece of burnt meat from the fryer, dangled it in front of Robbie's eyes, and finally crushed it into a black smear of ash on the countertop.

Robbie vomited again and again, emptying his churning stomach's greasy contents onto the cutting board while Steve hacked and sawed away in a futile attempt to sever the Sonee's foot. Having borne Robbie's weight for almost two years now, these bones were, ironically, the strongest ones in his pathetically-designed body. It would take more than a blade to sever them.

"Ah, screw this." The Jerkop withdrew the knife and nodded at Kuri. "Help me find a cracker."

"Cwackewr?" Robbie managed to fight through the nausea long enough to get a single word out. Steve had inadvertently triggered a delicious memory of a few months back in the autumn of 2008, when he went camping out in the woods with Sonichu and Uncle Wild and cousin Sandy. They all went fishing and hiking (Robbie made it about ten yards down the trail before he got too stressed and Sonichu had to carry him the rest of the way on his back) and did other fun things like sing songs around a campfire and play hide-and-seek. Robbie hid in the cooler and got stuck, so he wasn't found until early the next day when Sonichu opened it up to store a freshly-caught Magikarp. Later that night, once Robbie had been dried off and fed, Sonichu and Uncle Wild made another fire and toasted marshmallows to make a delicious treat called "s'mores." They'd given Robbie a huge three-layer s'more, almost as high as his chin, with sugary Graham crackers on the outside and big gooey golden-brown marshmallows and melted chocolate filling the inside. He'd eaten four in total and went to bed in his Sonee-sized sleeping bag and little blue pajamas, happy as a clam and stuffed to the brim with sweet goodness.

"Awe…we m…ma…makin…s'mowes?" he asked, clenching his toothless gums together as waves of burning agony flared through his foot. Kuri and Steve ignored him again and instead focused their attention on rummaging through the utensil drawers beside the sink. Finally, Steve located the object of his desire – a silver-plated lobster cracker – and passed it to his squadmate.

"Thanks!" said Kuri, and gleefully fastened the tool over Robbie's bloody, exposed foot bone.

"Dat's notta Gwam cwackewr! DAT'S NOTTA GWAM CWACKEWR! NOOO! NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOO! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" A fresh wave of tears poured from Robbie's eyes as he screamed and cried, knowing what was about to happen and, even worse, that there was nothing he could do to prevent it. With a loud crunch, Kuri smashed right through the stubborn bone, splintering it beneath the cold hard metal of the lobster cracker. Robbie's fried foot fell free with a last spurt of blood and lay steaming on the cutting board. Kuri picked it up and sucked out the marrow with glee, ran the entire greasy, blood-smeared mess under the faucet for five seconds, nibbled on a few choice bits of meat, then finally dropped the foot and its melted plastic shell into a large Ziploc bag labeled ROBBIE SONEE'S SHOES/FEET. A smaller notation beneath read KEEP REFRIGERATED. DO NOT EAT.

"MY FOOWT! MY FOOOOOWT! GIMME BACK MY FOOOOOOOOWT!" squealed Robbie, and squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. This was all just some horrible dream, and Mommy or Daddy or Cera was going to appear any minute now to take care of everything for him like they always did when he got stressed! But when he opened his eyes and looked around hopefully, Sonichu was nowhere in sight, his mother was gone, and Cera was giggling like a lunatic, high on sugar after Kevin and Jexis had fed her nearly two pounds of Cera Candy. It wasn't as if she couldn't hear Robbie…she simply didn't care about her brother's suffering when compared to the prospect of so much yummy, sugary goodness that she so richly deserved after enduring so much stress.

Anger, stress, and annoyance surged through Robbie as he listened to his hyperactive sister laughing and singing Britney Spears songs to herself. Why wasn't she coming to save him like she always did in his dreams? Roseys were meant to look after a Sonee's every need, just like Grandpa Chris and Rosechu had told him! He was in pain! He was tired and stressed! Why was Cera being so lazy? She was his big sister! She was supposed to be taking care of everything for him, since he didn't have a sweetheart to do that yet, and besides, he was just a helpless little baby! Nothing was ever his fault! It was all her fault that these jerks were hurting him so much!

"CEWAH!" he shrieked. "CEWAH, STAWP PWAYING AN HEWP MWEEEEEEE!"

"Hee hee hee!" Cera giggled from the other room, completely oblivious to her brother's cries.

"You know what? That just seemed like way too much trouble, Kuri," Steve sighed, and grabbed hold of Robbie's other shoe. The partially dismembered Sonee tried to kick Steve's fingers in a heroic gesture of defiance, but with only one foot, this action was about as effective as a one-armed blind man trying to row a leaky boat with only one paddle. The Jerkop held Robbie down with his other hand and began pulling, firmly at first, then harder, and harder, and harder, until…

CRRRRRRRAAACCK!

"AAAAAAAAAAGHGHGHGHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Steve stumbled backward and slammed into the opposite wall as Robbie's stubborn right foot finally ripped free of his pelvis. Threadlike ligaments and split tendons dangled from the rounded white nub of bone protruding from the Sonee's sneaker – remnants of the horribly-designed skeletal system that had hindered Robbie for the entirety of his short life. Handing the hot lump of meat and plastic to Kuri, Steve turned back to his screaming, filthy, vomit-splattered victim.

"Hey Robbie," he chuckled evilly. "Remember what you told me back in June at the Shopping Center? Something like, 'one day, I'll be as fast as my Daddy, even though I trip a lot?'"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAAAA AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Robbie screeched in utter misery, squeezing his teary eyes shut as the Jerkop's cruel words sank in. He didn't want to believe it. Part of him wanted to think it was all still part of the "dweeeeeeam." And yet, when he opened his eyes and stared down at the bloody ragged mess where his oversized stumpfeet had once protruded from, Robbie knew in the deepest, darkest, most true and honest corner of his heart, that he would never be as fast as Daddy anymore…not now, not ever. Unspeakable despair and self-loathing crept over him, wrapping around his maimed, misshapen body like a cold wet blanket. There would be no more attempts to run, no more gleeful waddling in circles while Mommy and Daddy cheered him on, no more games of tag with his sisters, no more zappin' adventures…no more spunk and speed for the rest of his life. He'd been crippled forever, stripped of his birthright in less than five minutes at the hands of Steve and Kuri.

For the first time in his life, Robbie tasted the bitter sting of a reality beyond the saccharine, carefree, and perpetual childhood that his grandfather had engineered for him. These intruders had taken Nanny Heather and his family away, castrated him, and now had separated him from his own feet – every homebred Sonee's most highly prized and valued physical feature. Robbie had never felt so utterly wretched in his life – like some deformed, disgusting freak instead of the happy, cute, innocent, spunky little baby that Daddy and Grandpa Chris had always told him he was. There was nothing left in his future but torture, pain, and suffering, and every minute…nay, every millisecond of the long road to his inevitable, unspeakably nightmarish death was paved with horrors several light years beyond his meager understanding of horror. A new and frightening sound began to emerge from the little Sonee's throat – a shrill, soulless wail that could best be described as what one would expect the damned to cry out in the fires of hell.

"WHYYYYYYY?" he screamed, desperate for an answer…any answer…anything that might explain why his tiny body, his Heart Level, and his very life had all been shattered in one vicious blow, like delicate crystal glass against a rock. "WWWHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY?"

"Oh, a lot of reasons," replied Steve calmly as he scrubbed at Robbie's fur with a wet washcloth and cleaned away the vomit and blood. His voice shook with suppressed fury, fury for the friends he'd lost and the atrocities he'd seen. "I'd name a few, but I think you'd just forget them in a few seconds. Come here." He plucked Robbie off the cutting board once he was clean and carried the wretched Sonee into the living room, towards the TV. For a split second, Robbie foolishly dared to hope for another screening of one of his most beloved films in the whole world. Then Kuri's boot crashed down on the Sonichu family's treasured Mary Poppins and The Adventures of the American Rabbit VHS tapes. Again and again, she stomped down as hard as she could, until she'd reduced them to a pile of plastic scraps and crumpled coils of film.

Robbie whimpered brokenly as both of his favorite movies were smashed apart beneath Kuri's feet. Bit by bit, the Jerkops were tearing him down into a hollow shell of a Sonee, shattering the idyllic, sheltered life he'd enjoyed for far too long. His pathetic airheaded misogynistic excuse for a mother now lay naked and headless in the basement, while the swollen remnants of Christine's mutilated corpse spun endlessly in the garage's washing machine. Cera floated in the middle of a selfish, candy-induced stupor, destined for the most gruesome fate of all once the Jerkops finally decided to end her life. And his father…his father still hadn't come to save the day.

"Daddee's gonna wescue me!" he shouted in a sudden burst of confidence and hope that sheared right through the thick curtain of misery. "Gwampa Chwis's got a pwan ta wescue awl of us! An den my Daddee's gonna zap awl of you ta da extweem, 'cuz he's da fastewst an da stwongest!"

"Your Grandpa Chris," sneered Kuri as Steve roughly dropped Robbie's legless, neutered body on the floor right in front of the screen, "is currently shoving his own Sonichu medallion up his anus because a thirteen year-old boy disguised as his dead sister told him to. Your father's out on a fruitless pickle hunt." She narrowed her eyes. "No one's coming to save you, Robbie. Nobody cares about you. Nobody loves you. We killed your mommy and that repulsive purple blob you call a sister. And after you're dead, we'll kill Cera and Sonichu and Grandpa Chris, too! Yay!"

Had the Sonee's feet and pickle still been attached to his body, he might have been a little more resistant to the idea of his own mortality. Still, to the naïve and stubborn Robbie, he was only an innocent little baby who deserved only the most loving care and treatment for being so adorable and spunky, as well as for being the leader of the second Chaotic Combo. While they might have broken a real child, the Jerkop's cruel words simply bounced off Robbie as he lost focus on her and let his mind drift back to his mutilated lower body. Why were his feet gone? Why had they ripped out his pickle? Why weren't they taking care of him? He was so small and helpless!

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he wailed from the pain, clutching his shredded crotch with his armstubs and trying to wiggle backward away from Kuri and Steve. Without his feet, this task was rather difficult. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Vrrrrmvrrrmvrrrrmvrrrmvrrrmvrrrmvrrrmvrrrmvrrrmvrr rmvrrrmvrrrmvrrrmvrrrmvrrrm!

Robbie flopped over onto his stomach just in time to see his little yellow go-kart - the special present that his father had given him for Christmas – zoom out of the kitchen with a fuzzy pink Rosey sitting in it and driving with her armstubs. For a moment, a brief, hopeful moment, the Sonee's face lit up in desperate joy. It was Cera! Cera had come to rescue him, just like in his dream!

"HI WOBBIE!" shouted SUZI, waving to Robbie as she spun the kart in a circle and parked it right in front of him, then hopped off. "Hi, Wobbie! Don't wowwy, I'm gonna wescue you!"

"YAY! SOOZEE!" shrieked Robbie, and reached out to grab her stumpfoot. His armstub met nothing but carpet. Confused and stressed, he crawled forward and reached out again, but still couldn't touch his beloved heartsweet. Looking back, he screamed in terror as he realized that Kuri had grabbed him by his stubby tail and was now holding him back, preventing him from ever reaching SUZI. Desperately pulling at the soft carpet with his stubs, he felt the Jerkop's nails digging into the tender flesh of his hindquarters, threatening to rip his tail right off.

"Difficult task, isn't it, Robbie?" she chuckled. "And I thought you were such a brave baby!"

Robbie bawled and panted and struggled onwards in vain, pawing the floor as sweat dripped from his face and soaked into his fuzzy yellow pelt. By the time he finally gave up and collapsed, he'd progressed a grand total of zero inches toward SUZI. Completely exhausted, the Sonee just lay there, blubbering and quivering, drenched in sweat, his tiny body burning with pain.

"Arceus, you're pathetic." Kuri pulled back on her victim's tail and hoisted the plump little chu into the air. Too weak to even scream at the immense pain in his rear, Robbie began making a hoarse moaning noise and jerking himself around erratically as he was borne aloft. Gravity would have eventually pulled his heavy body free of his tail, but before that could happen, Kuri set him down right next to the yellow go-kart and winked to SUZI. "Oh no! Steve, he got away!"

"YAY!" screamed Robbie, utterly convinced that his weak little struggles had caused the Jerkop to lose her grip on him. He looked up at SUZI with desperate relief. "SOOZEE, HEWP MEEE!"

"Gwab da kawt, Wobbie!" the LIESA unit instructed as she hopped in and gunned the engine. Robbie obediently curled his armstubs around the back of the go-kart and hugged it, thinking that Suzy was going to speed off into the sunset and leave all the nasty Jerkops behind to shake their fists and bemoan the loss of their heroic, spunky victim, just like all of his daddy's enemies did.

"Wet's go!" he whined. "Sooooooooooooooozeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, why awen't we dwiving away?"

"Oh no you don't!" Kuri's fingers fastened around Robbie's tail once again as SUZI eased her hydraulic stumpfoot down on the gas pedal. "Where do you think you're going, little Sonee?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" screeched Robbie. His tail was bleeding at the base, threatening to rip free of his pelvis. SUZI accelerated forward while the Jerkop pulled back, stretching the screaming Sonee out until his fat little body had nearly reached the breaking point. Either way, something was going to have to give.

"Well, this is certainly a stressful situation," commented Kuri. She leaned in close to Robbie's long black-tipped ears. "Looks like you've got to make a choice, wittle baby. You can either let go and lose your go-kart, or you could keep holding on. You're gonna lose your tail and it's gonna hurt really bad, but you'll get your kart and Suzy Rosey!"

Agonized tears spilled from Robbie's reddened eyes as he clung to the kart. "WAAAAAHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOO! WET ME GO AN WET ME HAWVE SOOZEE WOSEY AN MY KAWT! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH H!"

"Always another way out, isn't there?" The Jerkop sighed and tugged back, hard. "Too bad!"

RRRIP! CRACK!

"EEEEEEIIIIIIIIAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Screaming and thrashing around in a fit of agony, Robbie felt his little yellow stub of a tail rip right out at the base, leaving a torn, squirting hole in his plump posterior. The shock and trauma of Kuri's cruel amputation forced him to release his hold on the go-kart, which sped away into the kitchen and out of sight, leaving the Sonee on the floor. Alone, helpless, and missing a tail, he couldn't do much more than lie there, shrieking in misery.

Steve knelt down and patted Robbie on the head, ruffling his headspikes just like Sonichu always did. "You know, she gave you a chance. You could've let go if you weren't such a greedy little spoiled shit. But NO, you had to have your tail AND Suzy AND your precious kart, didn't you?"

"WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Robbie screamed, pounding the floor with his armstubs.

Kuri raised two fingers and poked him in the eyes with her nails. "Shut it, you fuzzy little bastard."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Robbie screamed, louder still.

"All I ever hear from you is just complain, complain, complain," continued Steve with a cruel grin. He glanced up as the soft putter of the go-kart's motor approached through the kitchen. "Oh yes. And Robbie…there's something we never told you about your lovely heartsweet…"

SUZI pulled the kart up in front of the Jerkops and their captive, then heaved a massive black object out of the back. Robbie's crying ceased as soon as he recognized his PlayStation 3. Humming a little tune to herself, the LIESA unit quickly plugged the game system into the TV.

"Hi Wobbie!" she cried happily, waving to the quivering Sonee as she waddled up to him, flung her little armstubs around him, and hauled him upright. "Wanna watch a movee wif me?"

"YAY! MooveeEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! " Robbie's happy squeal at the prospect of a movie was replaced by a piercing shriek of terror as SUZI slammed her face against his and activated her eye-screens, projecting a frightening stream of images directly into the Sonee's terrified eyes. It was a particularly special creation of hers – a manic assortment of disturbing and brutally violent clips from Braindead, Guinea Pig: Flower of Flesh and Blood, Salo, Cannibal Holocaust, Eraserhead, and anime like Genocyber, Elfen Lied, andDevilman, all intermixed with the most explicit samples of gay porn and yaoi.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" the Sonee screamed, his entire body spasming and his eyes bleeding from the barrage of gore and penises that the LIESA unit had spliced together for him. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He attempted to squeeze his eyes shut and block out the horrors, but Kuri swiftly grabbed his eyelids and held them open while Steve administered drops of contact lens solution to keep them from drying out. Robbie was being forced to watch every single second of the montage, and the last time SUZI had checked, it was about half an hour long, half an hour of nonstop homosexuality and unspeakable violence, designed specifically by her and Kuri as an interrogation tool for male chus.

Never before had the LIESA unit used it on a male baby chu, though. The results, to say the least, were extremely interesting to her from a scientific perspective. If the Break You Dead cleansing by Steve and Kuri hadn't purged his entire digestive system of everything solid and liquid, Robbie might very well have reenacted his infamous meltdown at the Shopping Center, when SUZI had broadcast her montage of gay porn. As such, his reflexive vomiting and shitting ended up resulting in only a strangled gagging noise and a few brief farts. There was simply nothing left to purge. It didn't seem possible, but the Jerkops had emptied his body completely.

Finally, mercifully, after thirty minutes of torment, SUZI shut off her eye-screens and let Robbie fall to the floor. The petrified Sonee sniffled and cried some more, wiping his bloody eyes with his armstubs in an attempt to scrub them clean of the homo images he had just witnessed. His infantile mind had nearly been liquefied under the unrelenting visual and mental assault, temporarily lobotomizing the parts of his brain meant to control fear and anxiety. Trembling, he attempted to fall back on his grandfather's tried and true technique of imagining the gay thoughts dissolving in his stomach acid, but said stomach had been completely emptied of said acid a long, long time ago. With no way of removing the images from his broken brain, he lay there, twitching and making little "guhhhh-guuhhhh" noises while the structure of his nervous system automatically pieced itself back together due to his healing factor. Gradually, the capacity for thought returned, and he simply let his mind wander away again, pretending he was on one of Sonichu's zappin' adventures. The contents of the movie were quickly forgotten.

What was not forgotten, however, was the realization that SUZI had plugged her USB tail into his beloved PlayStation 3, and was systematically wiping out all of his PSN account information, saved game data, and Trophies, while smashing his copy of Sonic the Hedgehog 2006 to bits.

"W…WA…WAH…WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The sheer volume of Robbie's hysterical screams nearly blew out the Jerkops' ears then and there.

"Time to die, partner!" Steve snatched up the Sonee in one hand, lifted him off the ground, and headed for the kitchen while SUZI toddled back to her go-kart and gleefully resumed puttering around the living room. Robbie weighed in at just under twenty-five pounds – a disgustingly heavy amount for his species, but thankfully his body was also densely compact and incredibly tiny, at just a foot tall. Carrying him wasn't the least bit difficult for the battle-hardened Jerkop.

"NOOOO! NOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Robbie wailed, and tried to wiggle free, but Steve only squeezed the Sonee more tightly, poked his kukri through the bloody flap of skin that had once housed his victim's internal genitals, and twisted it violently, ripping open the grievous wound once again. Robbie screamed shrilly as fat drops of blood seeped from the horrific injury and dripped down to the floor, staining the ugly off-color blue carpet with splotches of dark red.

Why wasn't Daddy coming to rescue him? What could be more important than saving the life of his only son, his personal pride and joy and the most beloved of his three children? Robbie couldn't save himself, Mommy was down in the basement, Christine was somewhere else, and Cera was being all lazy and selfish, so why wasn't Daddy taking care of everything like he was supposed to do? Grandpa Chris often said that Sonichu was known for last-minute rescues, but now it seemed like Robbie's own last minute had already begun. The Sonee looked around frantically, searching for a familiar flash of yellow fur or a spinning blur of large blue sneakers as his oversimplified emotional spectrum hovered somewhere between terror and stubborn hope.

"WET ME GOOOOOO!" Robbie shrieked in desperation, and began pounding Steve's fingers with his puny armstubs. Kuri crept up behind the Sonee with her bottle of Break You Dead in hand, applied it generously to both of her thumbs, and gleefully shoved them right into his bulbous, repulsive lizard eyes. Robbie squealed in horrible burning pain and tried to bat her thumbs away, but the Jerkop kept pushing forward, harder and harder, massaging the super-hot sauce into the eyeballs until she could feel them about to give way and pop. Satisfied, she withdrew to let Robbie scream and paw at his reddened, watery eyes for a while. If Steve was planning to dispatch the baby chu in the manner she thought he was going to, Robbie needed to see every single second of his demise, or else their efforts would have been all for naught.

The deep fryer was still bubbling and smoking like a witch's cauldron when the Jerkops returned to the drab, dull-colored kitchen. How ironic, Steve thought, that Robbie should end his life in a manner befitting food when he himself regularly consumed more in one week than an adult hobo living in a Soup Hotel ate in four months. The sheer wastefulness of the Sonichu family was utterly sickening. Steve set Robbie down on the counter, drew his kukri, and pricked him right in his plump tummy. The little Sonee cried out and clutched his burning eyes as blood squirted into his peach-colored belly fur. Steve nearly succumbed to his desire to slit Robbie open and see if he could actually turn Sonichu's son completely inside out, but decided against it. What he had planned would be much more entertaining…and much worse for Robbie in the end.

Seizing the Sonee by his fuzzy black-tipped ears, Steve picked him up off the table and lifted his tiny, battered body over the deep fryer so that they were face to face, betwixt life and death. Robbie let out a pitiful scream as his ears wrenched against the top of his head. The oil was splashing beneath him like a cauldron full of molten gold. To fall in meant certain death, and it felt as if his ears were going to tear loose any moment now.

"Well, here's where it ends," he sighed in disappointment. "Look at yourself, Robbie. See, that's the reason why I didn't take out your eyes or anything. I wanted you to see what we did to you. No feet. No pickle. No Daddy. No hope. No future. Pathetic. A virgin to the end." He paused and smiled. And you know something, Robbie Sonee? I think this just might be my masterpiece."

"Our masterpiece," Kuri corrected him, and applied a squirt of BYD to the dripping wound between the stumps of Robbie's severed legs, thus doubling the volume of his agonized screams.

"Our masterpiece. So Robbie," Steve addressed the dangling, shrieking chu in a frighteningly calm voice, "do you still want to know why we do it? Why we go out of our way to make you abominations suffer and die? Why we killed Mommy and little Christine?" He paused and sighed in exasperation. "Who am I kidding? You just want to know why you, right? It's all about you."

Through his tears and the fiery pain in his head and crotch, Robbie somehow managed a strangled squeak.

A vicious grin spread across the Jerkop's face, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if the kitchen's temperature had dropped a few degrees.

"Because you're what Chandler always wanted to be," he answered, delivering the prepared speech that he'd been working on for the past year, memorizing it for this exact moment. Robbie wouldn't understand it, but the viewers would. "A stunted, cutesy, loathsome little grub with two disgusting female stereotypes for playmates. No responsibility, no discipline, no consequences, no growing up, nothing but innocence and ignorance and an eternal childhood full of hugs and smiles and laughter and games and Mary Poppins and a perfectly awful family." Steve chuckled. "We know your grandpa, wittle Wobbie. We know how his mind works. From the moment you hatched, he's been living out his fantasies through you because he and his worthless parents were all too repulsive and lazy and stupid to give him a childhood of his own. He put so much of himself into you that he ended up turning you into the avatar of his ideal youth. He can't live forever as a human, so why not spend eternity as a Sonee, huh? Just like he always wanted."

"As for your daddy…" Kuri stepped in to give Steve a much-needed break from his recited rant. "Well, he's killed hundreds, maybe eventhousands of innocent people because your grandpa told him to. He only spawned you and set up this lie you're living because your grandpa told him to. You were never gonna be as fast as him…how could you, when your grandpa made him and your mommy start adding Everstone powder to your food? He's worthless, spineless, a complete and utter failure. Just like Grandpa Chris. Just like you. And by the time your daddy realizes we tricked him, you'll be Kentucky Fried Chu. Don't worry, we'll send him down to join you soon enough. I have a feeling you two are going to have one hellof an interesting confrontation."

"Pity we won't be there to see it." Steve raised his kukri and pressed its razor edge against the little Sonee's right ear, just as the horrible reality of the Jerkops' words finally began to penetrate Robbie's underdeveloped brain. "And the honest truth is…I've got no idea why we do all this sick shit. But it's just so much fun that we just can't seem to stop finding new ways to slaughter you all. And now it's my…" He turned and gave Kuri a resolute smile. "Now it's our turn."

"WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! WET ME GOOOOOOOOOOO! PWEEEEEEEEEEEASE!"

Steve paused. The edge of his kukri had pricked the Sonee's ear, drawing blood. "All right, Robbie. I'm feeling generous, so I'll let you choose. Either I slice your ears off and let you fall into the Prickly-Wickly Pit, or I'll just drop you in. It's up to you. So what's it gonna be?"

Robbie flailed his armstubs pathetically, screaming as his infantile brain tried to process the Jerkop's offer through the waves of pain in his ears. The choices weren't fair! There wasn't a third, easier option! It was just so hard and so stressful for him to cope with such a difficult-

"Five seconds, Robbie," Steve continued, glancing at the clock on the stove. "Slice or drop?"

"WAAAAHHHH! WAAAAHHHH! NO SWICE! NO DWOP! WET ME GOOOOOOO!"

The Jerkop sighed and rolled his eye. "There is no third option, you naïve little moron."

"YES DERE IS! WAAAAAAAHHH!" wailed the stubborn Sonee, clinging to his own desperate reality in the face of certain death. He'd thought up a much better option than both of the stupid choices, which meant that Steve had to let him go now! "WAAAAHHH! WET ME GOOOO-"

Shick!

"WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Robbie screeched as the sharp steel blade sliced his ear off at the base. The bloodied yellow and black triangle dropped straight into the deep fryer and began to sizzle violently, just like his genitals had. The sheer amount of pain was unbelievable - almost unimaginable. All of the weight from his unnaturally dense and chubby body was pulling down on his one remaining ear. Robbie knew that he had only a few seconds until it too would rip loose, and send him plummeting into the bubbling cauldron just like one of the unfortunate Sonees and Roseys in Grandpa Chris's stories about the Jerkops or homos or Mary Lee Walsh.

With only seconds separating him from the end of his life, Robbie's stressed, frenzied mind somehow managed to come up with a last, even more desperate attempt at self-preservation. Opening his eyes as wide as they would go until he thought he looked sufficiently cute like his parents and grandfather constantly told him he was, he stared pleadingly at Steve in probably the most misguided attempt to garner pity that any Sonee or Rosey had ever tried in all of history.

"WET ME GO!" he begged pathetically as tears streamed unchecked down his face. His ear was tearing loose, hanging by only a few strips of skin. "PWEEEEEEEEEEASE! I…I WUV YOU!"

Steve gazed at the wriggling Sonee affectionately, but there was no mercy in either his icy eye or his chilling smile. "Go to hell, Robbie."

RRRRRIP!

"EEEEEEAAAAAGGGHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

SPLASH! SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

Lashing out with his kukri, Steve delivered six surgically precise cuts to Robbie's obese body and spun away as it tore free of his ear and slipped right out of the little yellow-and-brown pelt, sending the partially-skinned Sonee plummeting downward with a screech of terror, pain, and surprise. Like a chubby little blob of bloody fat, Robbie hit the oil with a massive splash, sending white-hot drops flying in all directions. Kuri ducked behind the counter and covered her head, but managed to avoid being burned. As the sizzling faded away, the Jerkops began to hear a new sound, a wonderful, beautiful sound…a sound of ultimate suffering. Steve and Kuri's hearts had made that sound when Chandler's creations had murdered their friends and loved ones in cold blood. The son of Sonichu made it now.

"EEEEEEAAAGGHGGHEEEAAGHAAAAGHEEEEEEEEEAAAAIIIIIIII IIEEEEEEEEEEEAAAGGHGGHEEEAAGHAAAAGHEEEEEEEEEAAAAII IIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!"

Robbie sat neck-deep in the tub of boiling grease, shrieking horrifically as the deep fryer began cooking him from every direction. Angry red boils and blisters rose and burst by the hundreds, leaving large bloody discolored patches of flesh as they exploded. Screaming, the hoglet made a weak attempt to grab the edge and pull himself out to safety, but the oil was much too slippery for him to grip anything, even with his natural static cling. Beneath the surface, his plump little body expanded and hissed as his juices turned to steam and his substantial fat supply melted like butter in a skillet. His abnormal physiology was literally frying him alive, both inside and out.

There were no more tears from the little Sonee now …no more whining or pleading, no attempts to escape or fight back…just pain and fire and raw, unspeakable terror.

As his exposed, underdeveloped muscles grew weaker and weaker in the immense heat, Robbie sank lower and lower into the burning, sizzling hell-bath. His armstubs slid beneath the surface, and through the superheated oil, he could see them both swelling up, feel them tearing open like well-cooked hot dogs to reveal the creamy fat and tender meat within, and beneath that, the small prehensile bones and tendons that kept his rudimentary limbs from simply hanging at his sides like limp noodles. The little chu screamed again and again, his shrill voice reaching a volume that Steve and Kuri had previously thought unattainable. His frantic cries slowly grew more hysterical, more frenzied, shifting back through two years of disgusting baby-talk to the primordial stage of his infancy when he knew no words other than his own species' name.

"NOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO! AAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE! AAAIIEEEAAAAAUUGHHEEEE! AAAUUUGGGONEEEEEEEEEEE! SONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

And all the while, his former nanny looked down on him from the Battle Bus, weeping with hysterical satisfaction and shouting a vicious stream of violent Spanish curses at the dying baby chu. Her life of servitude to the Sonichu family had lasted over two years…two years of scrubbing the counters and floors when Robbie accidentally befouled them, wiping smears of food from his fat little face while he stuffed more and more down his throat, changing his urine-soaked bedsheets, helping him go to the bathroom, listening to his vapid, insipid, infuriating stories about how he was going to be so strong and fast and heroic one day, watching Mary Poppins with him and his sisters several times a day, and countless other nightmarish tasks. Now she stood there, watching him burn alive, laughing a cold, cruel laugh as her disgusting little charge shrieked in agony.

Such was her vengeance – the bitter, long-awaited vengeance of Heather Iglesias.

The oil was licking at Robbie's face, enveloping the tips of his lower headspikes in hissing gold magma. Through a red and black haze, he began to hear sounds in the distance, even though his severed ears were now floating mere inches away from him…sounds of laughter and his family's familiar voices. It was a beautiful spring day, and he was back at CWC-Central Park with his mother and father and his two sisters, waddling in circles while they all looked on with pride.

"Go Wobbie!" Cera squealed, clapping her armstubs together in delight. "YAY! Go Wobbie!"

"Wobbie's da fastewst! YAY!" shrilled Christine, then quickly returned to gazing into her little hand mirror and sighing at the sight of her reflection. "Mommee, am I a pwetty Wosey?"

"Yes you are, Christine," said Rosechu with a beaming smile, "because you're a shiny Rosey!" She turned to the Sonee. "And I am so proud of you, Robbie! My spunky little baby!"

"Keep going, partner!" Sonichu encouraged his son. "You are getting faster every day, and when you grow up, you are going to save CWCville from all the homos and jerks who want to ruin it!"

Dat's wight… Robbie thought with his last shred of coherency as his head sank beneath the bubbling, churning surface of the oil. Somehow, even his dying thoughts manifested in that twee voice. Wun day, I'll be as fast as my Daddee, even dough I twip a wot.

And suddenly, horrifically, his father's smiling face burst into flame. Robbie screamed in shock as he watched fire erupt from Sonichu's fused eyes, from his mouth, from his ears and nose and cheekspots, consuming and scorching away the flesh to reveal a melted, dripping, bloody skull. A piercing screech, like that of some demonic bird of prey, echoed across the park as Rosechu was engulfed by the fire, her dress blazing, her eyes melting into bubbling goo…

"MOMMMEEEEEEEEE! DADDDEEEEEEEEE!" shrieked the terrified Sonee, tripping and waddling his way toward his parents as their bodies burst open and collapsed into ashes. Now Cera and Christine were burning too, squirming and wriggling on the ground while their pudgy bodies danced with flames and their torsos ruptured and exploded outward and disgorged great swarms of maggots that all bore Grandpa Chris's face. And all Robbie could do was to scream and scream and scream until fire gushed from his throat and incinerated his tiny body from the inside out.

CWCville burned. 14 Brunchville Lane burned. CWC-Central Park burned. Sonichu burned. Rosechu burned. Cera Rosey burned. Christine Rosey burned. And at last, Robbie Sonee burned.

It took a total of three full minutes for the heat of the deep fryer to work its way through the thick layer of protective fat cushioning Robbie's skull and finally bake his tiny brain into oblivion, but to the dying Sonee, every second seemed to last a thousand years. Submerged completely in what felt like a vat of liquid fire, his torment was simply impossible to describe or explain in any sort of intimate detail. Robbie floated in the anti-nirvana, a state of mind that knew only terror and agony. Even worse, Chris had forgotten (among many, many other things) to genetically engineer a pain limit into the nervous systems of the Sonichu children, so each passing second brought with it a tenfold increase in the baby Electric Hedgehog Pokemon's suffering.

Drifting in a world of hellish torment beyond his infantile understanding of pain, Robbie smiled in utter insanity as he felt his own eyeballs boil, shrivel, and rupture inside their sockets one by one. Daddy hadn't been there to save him…but maybe he could save himself if he ran really fast!

The ragged, bony stumps that had once been connected to Robbie's feet twitched a few times, then began to jerk erratically up and down through some last-ditch spark of energy from his own overcooked nervous system. In his mind, he was running, running, running away from the evil Jerkops who had hurt him so much and that nasty old witch Mary Lee Walsh who'd shattered his Grandpa Chris's Heart Level down to zero. They were all too slow and too stupid to catch him now!

Bursting with intense feelings of smug joy and elation, the Sonee waddled and waddled and waddled as fast as his little blue-sneakered feet could carry him. He laughed and squealed as the wind whistled through his headspikes and soft, tall blades of grass brushed his chubby sides. It had been so much hard work, but he was finally doing it! Finally, he was running as fast as…

"Oof!" Robbie tripped and fell into oblivion, tumbling down through the field and into a dark void that yawned open, seemingly out of nowhere, to receive him. This time, there was no soft bed of grass to land on, no solid ground to break his fall, no Daddy to catch him and keep him safe and tell him that everything would be okay. There was only black silence, and nothing more.

Then the world exploded, leaving nothing but pain. In that instant, Robbie knew what death was.

"DADDDDDDEEEEEEEEEE! HEEEEEWWWWWWWWWP MWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Robbie just kept on waddling and waddling and waddling all the way to hell, screaming his final cries of hopeless, excruciating misery as he plunged headlong into the eternal abyss. Just before his last few surviving brain cells finally overheated and died, they were racked by two colossal events: a blinding surge of emotion and realization…and a bitter stab of pure, absolute betrayal.

At long last, the fire consumed him, and Robbie Sonee was no more.

Steve let the baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon cook a few seconds longer, then switched off the fryer and handed the pair of stainless steel tongs to Kuri. She plunged them into the rapidly cooling oil and retrieved Robbie's tiny body without a word. Steve opened the cupboard above the sink and grabbed a large serving dish with a garish hand-drawn original of Sonichu's face on its surface and a CWC signature. Three tiny stubprints surrounded it in pink, purple, and yellow, along with Rosechu's loopy signature and Sonichu's name spelled out in crude lightning bolts.

A family plate for family meals, he thought. Perfect.

Kuri placed the lifeless, crispy brown Sonee on the serving dish and began soaking up the excess grease with a paper towel. Robbie's little harelip mouth hung open in a perpetual, silent scream, and when she turned him over to dry his underside, a gush of steaming oil poured out of his scorched throat and pooled on the plate.

"End of the line," murmured Steve, and closed his eye. "That was for you, Zo. All for you."

"Arceus…we did it!" Kuri lunged forward and gave her squadmate the biggest, warmest, and most sincere hug the Manajerk had ever seen her give anyone. "You realize what we just did?"

"Fuck and yes. We're never going to top that, are we?"

Kuri shook her head.

"Good. Now I can die happy." Steve staggered over to the dining room table and crashed down into a chair, still clutching the washcloth-sized sheet of soft bloody yellow-and-brown fuzz. Kuri brought the platter over, set it on the table, then slumped into a seat beside the Manajerk and snuggled up, resting her head on his shoulder. Both of them just sat there for a while in a sort of post-execution ecstasy, listening to the last few pops and sizzles from the deep-fried carcass of Sonichu's only son. In two days, Robbie Sonee would have turned two. But not now…not ever.

"We're gonna have to leave soon, right?" asked Kuri resignedly after a few minutes.

Steve nodded.

"And we should probably get this over to the pink blob's room for the grand finale, right?"

Steve nodded.

"And then this whole revolution's finally going to end, right? This is how it all begins?"

Steve nodded.

The Jerkop sighed happily and began carving Robbie apart with her butcher knife like the world's pudgiest, ugliest turkey. Shiny puddles of grease and seared juices began leaking out beneath his torso with each stroke of the blade, pooling beneath the little Sonee's crispy corpse. "Steve, we've got to make this really special. This is going to be Cera's last meal, and after all, I'm the squad chef. Give me a hand here."

Steve drew his kukri. "Kuri…it would be my absolute pleasure."

---

5 minutes earlier...

"EEEEEEAAAGGHGGHEEEAAGHAAAAGHEEEEEEEEEAAAAIIIIIIII IIEEEEEEEEEEEAAAGGHGGHEEEAAGHAAAAGHEEEEEEEEEAAAAII IIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!"

"Wat's dat?" asked Cera Rosey confusedly, and waddled to the door to listen. "Wobbie?"

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie," Kevin replied, listening to the Sonee's distant, piercing shrieks with silent joy and petting the pink baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon on her soft headspikes. "That's just Steve and Kuri doing a little cooking with your brother." He sniffed the air and smiled. "See? They're making a big special dinner, just for you!"

"YAY! I wuv cooking! I'm gwad you'we hawvin fun wif meeeee!" the Rosey continued smugly, oblivious to the fact that her little brother had been screaming for her to help him for the past three quarters of an hour. The immense sugar rush from ingesting nearly three pounds of milk chocolate and shredded Rosey meat had almost worn off by now, but it didn't matter anymore. Soon, Cera would be screaming just as loudly as her siblings had screamed…if not louder.

Back in December, after a rather intense session of negotiating with his squadmates, Kevin had been granted full permission to design and carry out the entirety of Cera's execution. His long, dangerous hours of studying the way she behaved around her siblings had given him a clear idea of what sort of trauma would most strongly affect her. This would not be a simple death, nor a particularly complicated one. But by Arceus, he was going to make sure she suffered.

No one would have guessed it, but Cera Rosey, to Kevin, was nothing less than the most utterly loathsome of the Sonichu children. Whereas Christine's excruciating narcissism and Robbie's smug, conceited, sickeningly entitled attitude usually drew more hatred from the general public, the Jerkop's time among the Sonichu family had shed new light on the despicable truth hidden behind the pink Rosey's all-too-common "forgotten child" or "mini-Rosechu" stereotypes.

Being a parasitic species by nature, the Electric Hedgehog Pokémon had been designed to take advantage of other organisms by any means necessary. At birth, their "cutesy" characteristics like the Rosey's wink and the Sonee's natural tripping were meant to adore potential hosts into providing them with food, care, protection, or anything else a baby chu needed to survive. But in the case of a sheltered homebred like Cera, who had grown up with two younger siblings to take care of, this parasitic tendency manifested in a slightly different way. Like any Sonee or Rosey, her number one priority was herself, and only herself. And being the oldest of the children had taught her many lessons in how to exploit her siblings and those around her for her own benefit.

By no definition was Cera fit to take care of herself or her younger brother and sister, yet she continuously played up the "difficulty" of her various "responsibilities", whining to Sonichu and Rosechu that caring for Robbie and Christine was such a hard, difficult task, and making herself all the more likely to receive greater amounts of praise or presents from her parents. Rosechu in particular loved to shower Cera with rewards for being such a responsible and selfless Rosey. The reality of the situation was that in bestowing so many rewards on their daughter for literally doing nothing, Sonichu and Rosechu had only served to increase her sense of entitlement to the level where Cera now believed that her wish was the world's command, and anything else could be acquired through whining to her parents or crying until someone gave her what she wanted.

And of course, she was also Rosechu's daughter through and through.

"NOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO! AAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE! AAAIIEEEAAAAAUUGHHEEEE! AAAUUUGGGONEEEEEEEEEEE! SONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Robbie's screeches of insanity quickly snapped Kevin out of his contemplation. Turning to the blond medic, he gave her a quick nod and a wink. This had to be the final stage of the Sonee's ultimate demise, and after Cera's last meal was delivered, it was all up to him and his squadmate. And if there was one person more willing than him to avenge Matt's death, it was Jexis.

"You ready for this?" he muttered under his breath.

Jexis nodded and patted the black bag of medical supplies she'd brought along. "As I'll ever be."

"Wat awe you tawking abowt?" Cera giggled hyperactively as she waddled over and batted Kevin's leg with her armstubs. "Hee hee hee! Wet's pway a game! I wanna pway a game!"

The Jerkop forcefully poked her in the stomach, making the Rosey fall over backwards with a startled squeal. "Oh no, little Cera. Dinner first, and then we've got all sorts of games to play."

"YAY!" Cera rolled over and pushed herself up, bouncing up and down on her stumpfeet in a sugar-fueled high. "We're hawving a Chwistian Wuv Day dinnewr, an Mommee's making fwied chicken an onyun wings an downuts fow dinnewr 'cuz I'm takin care of Wobbie an Chwistine, an it's haaaaaaaawd!" She smiled arrogantly at Kevin and Jexis. "But Nannee Heathewr doesn't get a Chwistian Wuv Day dinnewr, 'cuz she's awesbian, an wesbians awe bad 'cuz Auntie Angewica doesn't wike dem! An nannees awen't speshul an wesponsibwe, wike me!"

"She's not here right now, is she?" Jexis remarked deceptively. "What a careless nanny she is!"

"Dat's wight! But Mommee an Daddee awe so wucky ta hawve me takin care of da howse." Cera smirked and folded her armstubs in smug superiority. "Ima wesponsibwe Wosey, an dat's why evewywun wuvs me so much an gives me pwesents!" It was more than obvious that she expected a reward from the Jerkops for reminding them of her supreme importance in the Sonichu family.

In keeping her quiet, Kevin and Jexis had given Cera all of the special candy they'd brought, the stuffed panda doll that Al had given SUZI for Christmas, Kevin's empty Poké Ball, several shiny tools from Jexis's bag, and both of their Jerkop badges. The baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon's greed truly knew no bounds, and to further hammer in her hypocrisy, she had spent much of the past hour telling the two Jerkops blood-boiling stories about all of the stressful situations she'd been in during the holidays, including a run-in with a family of "selfish Jewish folk" who hadn't given her any Christmas presents like they were supposed to.

Fortunately for the operatives, the sound of a bell ringing saved them from having to provide the greedy Rosey with yet another trinket.

"Dinner time!" Kevin leapt to his feet and grabbed up Cera, heaving the twenty-five pound baby chu off the floor with both hands. "Did somebody order a special Christian Love Day dinner? Because we've got one for a special little Rosey!"

"YAY! Dat's me! I'm speshul! Ima speshul Wosey, an I get a speshul dinnewr! YAY!" squealed Cera, and wrapped her stubby limbs around the Jerkop's arm, snuggling in and cooing happily while Kevin and Jexis gathered up their supplies and stolen possessions and headed out the door. Sugarplum Fury scampered after them, licking her chops in anticipation of the slaughter to come. At long last, the fourth and final kill was ready to begin. Their time had finally come.

The kitchen/dining room was empty by the time the two Jerkops reached the top of the stairs. Al, Steve, Kuri, Allie, Nate, Serge, SUZI, and Heather had all gathered in the Battle Bus, partially so that they would have a good view of the tortures to come, but mostly because they had no idea as to just how safe the outcome of Jexis and Kevin's plan was. If something went wrong with the experiment, Al had warmed up the bus's engine and was ready to retreat at a moment's notice.

On the table sat a large platter with what looked like an entire pork roast set in the middle, deep fried to perfection and nestled on a bed of potato chips and sour cream with what looked like a heavy helping of bacon bits sprinkled on top. The phrase "heart attack on a plate" came to mind. Really, it was amazing that Kuri and Steve had managed to turn Robbie Sonee's crispy carcass into something resembling a gourmet meal. Incredibly fatty and unhealthy, but still gourmet.

"YAY!" Cera shrieked gleefully as Kevin placed her on the table in front of her fried brother. Waddling around the platter, she stared hungrily at the steaming blob of meat and sniffed the air to take in the delicious smells wafting from the dead Sonee. "Dat smewls tasteeeeeeeeee!"

"It tastes even better, sweetie!" Jexis quickly fastened a little flowery Rosey-sized bib around Cera's flabby neck and patted her on the head. "Go ahead and start! Mommy and Christine and Robbie are all gonna be here in a minute or so, and they said you could start dinner without-"

Even if Cera had been listening to the Jerkop, it wouldn't have mattered. By the time Jexis had started listing off her now deceased family members, she had already hurled herself at the platter of food, ravenously munching her way through the pile of potato chips to reach the fried Sonee corpse at the center. In seconds, the Rosey's face and armstubs had disappeared into a thick glob of white cream and bacon bits, and it wasn't long before the only part of her that wasn't covered in food was the part protected by her bib. Kevin forced himself to watch the disgusting display of gluttony, if only to make the subsequent torture that much more satisfying.

In preparation for the final dinner of Cera Rosey, Steve and Kuri had taken the liberty of spiral-cutting Robbie's body to make it easier for her to tear off pieces of meat with her all but useless armstubs. As soon as she'd cleared a path through the cream and chips, the greedy Rosey flung herself at the fried Sonee without hesitation, not even pausing once to consider that this greasy blob of meat tasted nothing at all like chicken. If she had just stopped for one second and really taken the time to look at what she was eating, the whole façade might have come crashing down. But to the baby chu, food was food, and she wasn't about to let such a yummy meal go to waste.

Unnoticed by the fuzzy pink blob, Jexis reached for her black bag, unclipped it from her belt, and placed it down on the table between her and her squadmate. Inside lay the instruments of Cera's demise – a frightening assortment of syringes, forceps, scalpels, a dental drill, and several tiny bottles of liquid. Kevin didn't know what half of the equipment was for, but he was more than certain that all of it would deal some serious damage to the naïve, weak little Rosey.

Meanwhile, Cera had devoured about half of Robbie's fried body, ripping off great hunks of tender crispy flesh with her armstubs and devouring more and more of the fatty Sonee with every gleeful bite from her little toothless mouth. Her face was caked in oil, sour cream, and scraps of meat, yet still she persisted on eating her way through the delicious meal, never stopping even once to wipe her mouth or take a breather. Kevin found it ironic that the only times that the baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon ever showed some sort of energy or enthusiasm was when there was some sort of food or reward involved. Otherwise, they couldn't be bothered to complete even the simplest of tasks without excessively whining or complaining about so much hard work.

"Hey Cera," Kevin addressed the Rosey as she delightedly pulled a massive chunk of meat right off of Robbie's skull to expose the two shriveled, jelly-like orbs that had once been her brother's eyes. "How do you like that special dinner that Mommy made for you?"

Cera let out a short stress-sigh and glanced over her shoulder. It was more than obvious that she didn't like being interrupted in the middle of such a monumentally important task. "It's tastee! Weave me awone! I wike dis fwied chicken!" Raising the crunchy face meat to her mouth, she fastened her toothless gums around it and ripped off a chewy piece of cartilage that had once been Robbie's tiny black nose. She sighed again and spat out the indigestible blob, then set about devouring the rest of what had once been her brother's forever-screaming face.

"And why did Mommy make you such a tasty Christian Love Day dinner?" asked the Jerkop, surreptitiously accepting a syringe from Jexis as she passed it over to him.

The Rosey turned around and stared at Kevin, fixing him with a frighteningly creepy stare that so many innocent men, women, and children had gazed upon in the three horrific years of her life.

"'Cuz ima wesponsibwe Wosey, swow-in-da-mind!" she stated slowly, emphasizing each word just like her parents had taught her to do around slow-in-the-minds and other humans of less intelligence than her. And since Mommy was always telling her about how she was such a smart and clever and responsible Rosey, that category had been taken up with pretty much every single human that Cera had ever come into contact with…excluding Grandpa Chris, of course.

"Very smart, Cera!" Kevin replied. He placed the syringe on the table. "Are you thirsty?"

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssssssssss," Cera sighed, rolling her eyes as if to say Of course I am, you stupid jerk! You should know that by now! She stared at the syringe. "Wat's dat?"

"Oh, just a special baby bottle full of some nice delicious CWC Orange Soda!" explained Jexis coolly. "Come over here and have some! It's really, really good!"

"YAY!" The Rosey waddled over to Kevin, greedily licking her greasy, messy face and armstubs to get at the delicious globs of meat and sour cream that were still stuck to her. "I'm thiwstee an I wuv CWC Owange Sowda! Mommee awways dwinks Owange Sowda befowe she pways wif Daddee in da bedwoom! I wanna pway in da bedwoom aftewr dinnewr, wike Mommee!"

"Sure thing!" Kevin raised the syringe carefully, making sure not to disturb its contents too much in the process. "And after this, Christine and Robbie are gonna play with you too!"

Cera's pudgy, impudent face curled into a huge smile. "YAY! Tank you so much! I wuv you!"

"That's right. You're a good little baby…" murmured the Jerkop as he pushed the needle past Cera's harelips and into the roof of her little mouth. "I wuv you too, Cera. I wuv you too."

"Wat awe you do-AAAAAAAAHHHHHHUUUAAAAAAAAAAHHHGUUGHGGUHGH!" screamed the Rosey as she felt the piercing prick in the back of her throat and the horrid metallic taste of blood. Struggling and heaving, she could only flail around and gurgle while the needle plunged further and further back, up through the thick layers of fat that surrounded her stunted brain until its sharp tip pierced her hypothalamus and injected its incredibly unstable payload. Instantly, her body began erratically spasming, though her piteous shrieks continued on.

Kevin placed the struggling, squirming baby chu on the table and backed away as a thick gush of orange foam began to spew from Cera's mouth. The Rosey screamed and thrashed, her vapid green eyes bulging with a terror beyond any terror she had experienced in her pathetic existence. The Orange Soda was in her brain, invading her mind, sizzling and dissolving and replicating and burning away. Still more of the sweet orange sludge splattered on the floor as Cera vomited up more and more of the self-replicating bioweapon, choking and heaving in blazing acidic agony. It was eating its way through her with every passing second – attacking every single inch of her chubby little body with its unknown and unpredictable chemicals.

"WUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH! GUUUUUGGUHUGGH! GUUUUUGGUHUGGH!"

"Holy shit," breathed Kevin as he and Jexis retreated a few steps back. "What happens now?"

"Now?" A bitter smile spread across the medic's face. "Let's go practice medicine."

"HUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHH!" Cera gurgled, falling forward onto the table as slimy drops of orange transparent goo continued to burst from her throat like large blobs of Jell-O. Kicking her tiny stumpfeet and flailing her stubby arms, she continued to lurch around while her body fought to purge itself of the Orange Soda. With her inherent healing factor, the mutagen could not dissolve her from the inside fast enough to kill her or even deal significant damage to any of her internal organs. The Rosey could only lie there, alone and abandoned, flopping around like a dying fish and gurgling feeble cries as her insides burned. The two Jerkops ignored her and began laying out a series of scalpels, tweezers, and other surgical tools on the table. There was no need for them to confiscate any of her clothes – even Chris himself wouldn't be able to deny the sheer amount of proof the Honey Badgers were leaving behind for Sonichu to discover.

At long last, the strenuous vomiting stopped, and Cera collapsed in a pile of food-smeared fuzz, quivering and exhausted from the sheer exertion of the purge. Her plump body shivered and her pink pelt dripped with icy sweat as waves of throbbing, pounding pain lanced through her again and again. Something in the Orange Soda had completely neutralized her motor functions from the neck down, turning her into a limp little puppet of flesh, fur, screams, and constant pain.

And unfortunately for her, "playtime" for the Jerkops was just beginning.

"Assimilation of CWC Orange Soda bioweapon, stage one," Jexis announced coldly, placing a small digital recording device on the table as she and Kevin each pulled on a pair of thick rubber gloves and plastic goggles that the blond Jerkop had brought along in her medical kit. "Direct injection into the hypothalamus resulted in a complete failure of all motor skills, but…" She pressed a finger to Cera's chest, feeling the Rosey's tiny heart pounding in terror. "Involuntary functions are still working. The chemical seems to be working its way through her nervous system. Some of it must've trickled down her throat and settled into her stomach, hence the vomiting." Grinning, the medic grabbed one of Cera's armstubs with a pair of forceps and accepted a scalpel from Kevin. "Responsiveness and pain tests commencing immediately."

"NNNNNNNRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Shick! The razor-sharp point of Jexis's scalpel pierced the bare skin of the Rosey's limp armstub, and a fat bead of blood erupted from the wound. Cera's hoarse shrieks rang through the kitchen. With no way to lose consciousness, no anesthetic, no painkillers, and no means of escape, all she could do was to lie there and scream again and again, her eyes bulging in unspeakable agony.

"Responsiveness…normal," chuckled Jexis. "Pain reaction…exceptional." She slid the blade out of Cera's skin, dangled it back and forth in front of the frightened Rosey's eyes, then plunged it right into the very tip of her other armstub – the most sensitive area of any baby chu's limbs.

"EEEEEEEAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHAAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEIIII IAAAAAHHHH!" Cera screeched and wailed desperately, but even her most piercing cries couldn't stop the scalpel from slicing through her fatty limb and nearly bisecting it. A stream of highly pressurized blood squirted a full foot across the table and onto the greasy remains of Robbie, where it promptly began sizzling and giving off tiny wisps of acrid black smoke. Kevin quickly drew his knife and sliced off the affected hunk of meat before the corrosive blood could eat its way past the fatty outer layer, then stared in awe as the fried meat began bubbling and churning of its own accord.

"Interesting." Jexis released her grip on the scalpel, leaving the steel blade still embedded in the screaming Rosey's armstub. She leaned in close to the recorder. "What we're seeing here is a full-scale integration of the bioweapon with the subject's bloodstream. The regenerative property of her DNA has completely absorbed it, and now it's spreading through her body like a virus, or some kind of parasitic organism. In this state, the corrosive material can't destroy her like, say, a normal baby chu, so we're going to be able to see what happens as it mixes with her DNA."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Oh, be quiet." The medic grabbed the scalpel and twisted it sharply, prompting another squirt of acidic blood from Cera's mutilated armstub. "How do you like that, little Rosey? Hurts, right?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! STAWP IT! STAWWWP IIIIITTTTT!" the Rosey screamed, banging her head against the table in a frenzied attempt to stop the burning sensations inside of her. Every bit of her was hurting, but the deep, grievous cuts on her armstubs blazed and throbbed with a pain so immense that she thought for sure she had to be inside a nightmare. Squeezing her eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears poured into her already soaking fur, she tried to picture Sonichu and Rosechu racing to save her, battling entire armies of jerks and trolls so they could rescue their beloved little daughter from all of the horrible pain and stress she was in.

"Cera," Kevin addressed her calmly, relishing every last millisecond of the Rosey's shrieks and agonized bawling. "Do you know what happened to Christine and Robbie and Mommy?" He gently removed the scalpel from her stub and patted her on the head. Instantly, the baby chu's eyes snapped open. The ever-present pain already seemed to be fading away, leaving only an acidic burning sensation in her belly. "Do you want to know why your dinner tasted so good?"

"'Cuz Mommee made it fow ME!" shrieked Cera defiantly. Why was Kevin asking her all of these dumb stupid jerk questions? Why wasn't he doing everything in his power to make all the Prickly-Wicklies go away and giving her presents to make her feel better? She deserved at least ten bags of Cera Candy and a pony after enduring so much pain and stress!

"No." The Jerkop gazed into her frightened eyes, shaking his head and smiling condescendingly. Snatching the little Rosey up in a gloved hand, he reached for Robbie's carcass with the other and flipped it over so Cera could see exactly what she'd been so gleefully devouring all this time. "See? It was Robbie. We killed your brother, Cera. We killed him, and you gobbled him up like the greedy little pig you are. You could've stopped, you know. But no. You deserved your food."

If Kevin had been expecting shock, sadness, disgust, or any sort of sympathetic reaction from the Rosey at this moment of realization, he was about to be proven very, very wrong.

Sighing, Cera rolled her head around and stared back up at the Jerkop. "No, dat wasn't da WEAL Wobbie Sonee. Dat was just sum stoopid twoll twick! Mommee an Daddee an Nannee Heathewr awe awways here ta pwotect us from da twolls an jewks an homows!" She sniffled and glared at Kevin angrily. "I'm tewwing Mommee you didn't take care of me! WET ME GO, YOU JEW!"

"You don't get it, do you?" snarled Kevin, unable to believe that Cera had somehow found some insane way of denying the truth before her very eyes. "We killed your brother. We killed your sister. And we killed your mother. WE KILLED YOUR FUCKING MOTHER, CERA."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" shrieked Cera, and began furiously kicking her stumpfeet back and forth in the air. As the Orange Soda settled into her body, she was slowly regaining control of her movements. "PUT ME DOWN, YOU WYING TWOLL! I WANT MY MOMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"SHUT UP!" Kevin slapped her across the face with the back of his hand, prompting a massive earsplitting scream from the tormented Rosey. "WE KILLED YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING FAMILY, YOU SPOILED LITTLE SHIT! AND YOU'RE NEXT, CERA ROSEY! YOU'RE NEXT! NOT EVEN DADDY'S GONNA BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU WHEN WE'RE DONE!"

"YAY!" Cera's pained face twisted into a self-assured smile. "Daddee's gonna sayve me!" She struggled and squirmed, stress-sighing as Kevin's gloved fingers tightened around her fat little torso in frustration and rage. She didn't care that the stupid jerk had just told her that her mother and siblings were dead. He was obviously lying, because nothing bad could ever happen to her family as long as Sonichu and Grandpa Chris were there to protect them!

And even if Mommy and Christine and Robbie were gone, she still had Daddy to tell her she was such a good, well-behaved Rosey. When Sonichu came back, he'd be sure to give her lots of hugs and kisses and candy and ponies and whatever she needed to make the stress and Prickly-Wicklies go away! Without her siblings, it was even better! She wouldn't need to go through all the stress of sharing any of Sonichu's gifts with Christine or Robbie to make her parents give her even more presents for being responsible and generous! She could keep them all for herself, because she was such a good little Rosey and deserved nothing less than whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, from whoever she wanted it from, wherever it was, for whatever reason.

Kevin drew her in close to his face and gave her his most vicious grin. "But Daddy's not here right now, is he, little Cera?" He looked around dramatically and shrugged. "Nope! Not here! And you know what that means?"

"Dat means…" The Rosey's infuriating smile grew wider and wider. Her imagination was spiraling out of control, toward a scenario of utter perfection. Kevin's question was entirely forgotten, whisked away as the pain and darkness gave way to a bright, wonderful future…

"YAAAAAAAAY!" she squealed happily, all horror and sorrow forgotten. "I'm da onwee wun weft! I'm gonna wead da next Cay-o-tic Combow now, not Wobbie! I'm gonna be da Qween of da Ewectwic Hedgehawg Pokeemawn, an Gwampa Chwis an Daddee an I awe gonna make awl da twolls pay fow dere cwimes and destwoy awl da homows an WULE DA WOWLD! YAY!"

Kevin froze. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a trio of shrill twee voices chanted their hateful speech, piercing the shadows of his dreams and nightmares to become reality again.

"DEATH TA AWL WIFE! WE AWE DA DESTWUCSHUN OF AWL WIVING TINGS! EXISTENCE ITSEWF WIWL BE DEVOWERD, FOW WE AWE DA AWPHACHU AN OMWEGAC-"

"NO! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!" screamed Kevin, stumbling backwards as the horrendous nightmare flashed through his mind. Again and again, the stomach-churning images pierced his mind – humans enslaved by Sonichus and Rosechus, swarms of larvae devouring all in their path, Chandler's bloated corpse atop a throne of Legos…

But as he watched in terror, the scene shifted. Instead of three bloody fuzzy blobs emerging from the massive flesh-puppet's body, there was now only one. A single, pink Rosey. Cera Rosey.

"Kevin?"

Kevin snapped back to reality, and the vision faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. He was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed upon Cera's as pure, bitter hatred burned within his heart like a lump of molten magma. To keep the nightmare world of a chu-dominated earth from becoming a reality, the job had to be finished. The Sonichu children and the legacy of their parents had to be wiped off the face of the earth if the human race was to survive.

"Kevin?" repeated Jexis, looking at him confusedly. "You okay? Did you inhale any fumes or-"

"No, I'm okay." Kevin shook his head and leaned in close to Cera's face. "I'm more than okay."

Waves of panic surged through the terrified little Rosey. Where was Daddy? Why wasn't he coming to save her from the trolls and give her presents like he always did in stressful situations?

"Daddee's…uh…Daddee's got a pwan!" she insisted, and her fear dissipated like steam in the air. "He's gonna go get Gwampa Chwis an dawhowle Cay-o-tic Combow and come wescue me 'cuz he wuvs me! An den Gwampa Chwis is gonna bwing Mommee back ta wife!" Having never learned about the finality of death before, Cera had never really considered it that important, especially in contrast to the many trials, tribulations, and loads of stress and hard work that she had to endure on a daily basis. "Mommee an Daddee awe a Twoo Wuv Coupwe, an Twoo Wuv Coupwes awways end up wiving happiwee evewr aftewr, wike faiwee tale pwincesses!"

"Kevin, give her to me." Jexis shook her head in bewilderment and reached for the Rosey. "Time to play a little game. You want to play a game, Cera? It's fun!"

"NO!" Cera yelled, and tried to wiggle out of Jexis's grip as Kevin handed her over. "I WANNA PONEE AN I WANT CEWAH CANDEE AN I WANNA WATCH MEWWY POPPINS AN GO SHAWPPING WIF MOMMEE! I WANT MY MOMMEE, YOU STOOPID TWOLLS! WAAAAAAHHHHHH! WAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH!"

Ignoring the spoiled Rosey's cries and shrieks, Jexis snatched up her medical bag and strode out of the kitchen while Kevin picked up Sugar and placed her on the table beside the fried remains of Robbie's carcass to see if she wanted any for herself. The honey badger sniffed at the ugly lump of greasy meat, shuddered in revulsion, then turned around and promptly urinated on the dead Sonee to mark her territory. Not even she wanted to eat it. Smiling, Kevin waited until she was done defiling Robbie's corpse, then helped her down to the floor where SUZI was still riding around in the Sonee's little yellow go-kart. Sugar darted off after the giggling LIESA unit, excited for a game of tag with her playful robotic friend.

"Clear!" he announced, turning to the Battle Bus as the other Honey Badgers filed back out into the kitchen of 14 Brunchville Lane. "Al, Steve, we can start the cleanup now. I'll be with Jexis."

"Got it." The Legend nodded to Steve as he flipped down his welder's mask and headed for the garage. "Start with Christine's room. Everything salvageable goes into the Battle Bus. Anything else…burn it or break it. Remember, nothing gets left behind."

"Will do," replied the Manajerk. "Kuri, Allie, you're with me! Nate and Serge, go with Al!"

"No! I'm going with Kevin," Allie insisted. "I want to see her die. I need to see it."

"We're taping everything, remember?" Kevin grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. "Don't worry, Allie. Please, just go and help them burn this whole fucking place d-"

"Perdone, Señor Morrison," Heather Iglesias interjected, and stepped out of the bus, shaking with excitement. "The parásitos stole so much from our city…I can help you sort out what they took and who they took it from! When they forced some family to give up their toys and food to…to their little bichos of children, I wrote down as much as I could! Here!" She reached into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a small lined notebook, then passed it to Steve.

"Very good, Miss Iglesias." The blond Jerkop grinned as he flipped through the catalogue of greed and misery. "Allie, give her Trogdor and go with Kevin. You've both earned that much."

"Damn right!" Allie shrugged off the massive flamethrower and helped strap it onto the former nanny, smiling kindly as she pointed out the various controls to Heather. "Just aim the mouth at whatever you want to burn and squeeze the fire trigger. This one." She pointed to the first of the weapon's two triggers. "Not the second one, whatever you do. That's…uh…dangerous."

"Si, señorita!" answered Heather eagerly, and whirled toward Robbie's oily, befouled corpse.

Before anyone could react, the Latina woman had squeezed the trigger and blasted the dead Sonee with a concentrated stream of burning fuel at the EXTRA CRISPY setting, engulfing what was left of Robbie in an inferno of crackling flames and greasy black smoke. Kevin, Allie, Kuri and Steve could only watch in satisfied awe as the fat little chu's fried body burst into flames and began to disintegrate and fall apart. By the time Heather was done, only a shrunken black carcass and a few bubbling lumps of yellow adipose tissue remained on the platter.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET, YOU FILTHY LITTLE FÁBRICA DE MIERDA!" she screamed, hurling her Nanny Program badge into the blackened, smoking remnants of Robbie Sonee. Still not satisfied by her utter desecration of the baby chu's body, she snatched a handful of paper towels from a roll on the wall and used it as a makeshift glove to grab the dead Sonee by his ribcage and hurl it into a picture of the Sonichu family, where it promptly exploded and burst apart in a shower of blackened bones, shriveled organs, gelatinous blood, and globs of fat. Yelling a furious tirade of Spanish curses, she dashed over and brought her foot down on the burnt, shattered mess, crunching and stomping what was left of the little fuzzball into a black, brown, and red splatter on the kitchen floor. A final burst from Trogdor engulfed the remaining organic material, eliminating the chance that any of Robbie Sonee's DNA could be recovered.

"Arceus," Allie exhaled in amazement. "Nicely done, Miss Iglesias. Muy bien!"

"Muy bien!" laughed Heather, and saluted the Jerkop. "Gracias, Senorita Parker!"

"All right, let's go." Kevin tugged at Allie's arm as the nanny, Steve, and Kuri headed down the stairs. "Come on, we need to get back to Cera before Jexis does anyth-mmmmfffff!" He found himself suddenly unable to continue through the fierce kiss that his squadmate had just drawn him into without warning. For a moment, there was only her. Eventually, though, the prospect of sending the last of Sonichu and Rosechu's children to a fate worse than death beat anything else.

"We're gonna end this," Allie snarled as they drew apart. "All three of us. Together. For Matt."

"For Matt," repeated Kevin as he took her hand and led her out of the kitchen, toward the unholy bastion of darkness and horror that was Sonichu and Rosechu's bedroom.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" Cera screamed, struggling and kicking helplessly while Jexis pushed a large dissection pin through each of her stubby limbs and hammered them down into a large hardcover copy of the Sonichu comic that Chandler had given to Sonichu and Rosechu for the lovehogs' tenth anniversary. The book was just big enough to accommodate the tiny Rosey, and thick enough so that she couldn't pull her impaled armstubs or stumpfeet free of the pages. She lay there, bleeding and shrieking, helpless before the cruel methodical fury of the teenage Jerkop medic.

"Your father murdered my boyfriend," Jexis hissed, spinning the book around and around on the wooden computer desk and making the Rosey scream even louder in terror. "Your father killed him after Matt saved my life. And now I get to kill his precious baby and leave him alive." She let out a chilling laugh and reached for her dental drill. "What goes around comes around."

"You didn't open her up yet, did you?" Kevin pushed the door open and stepped inside, ushering Allie forward into the bedroom. "I want to see her suffer. I want to hear her scream."

"Just in time." The young medic straightened up and waved to her squadmates. "Come on over. Don't stand too close, though. Her blood's about to reach the limit, and I want to get this done before the mutagens start going to work."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! STAWP IT! STAWP IT AN WET ME GO!" bawled the struggling pink Rosey as Kevin and Allie sat down beside Jexis to watch. "WAT AWE YOU DOING? STAWP IT! STAAAAWWWWP IIIIIITTTT! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Hold still. Good girl!" Grabbing Cera's head between finger and thumb, the Jerkop activated the drill and held it next to the baby chu's ear. "You hear that, Cera? That's the sound of pain." Chuckling cruelly as her fuzzy victim writhed and wailed in helpless fear, she plunged the bit into the soft flaps of skin directly under the Rosey's lower jaw, driving it up through her chin.

"NNNNNNNNNRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH H!" A gush of tangy, orange-flavored blood squirted into Cera's mouth, gushing forth from the piercing pain beneath her little tongue. And still Jexis persisted, pushing further and further up while the whirling drill bit shredded the Rosey's tongue into a bloody mess. Blood began dribbling from the corners of her mouth and the horrific wound beneath her chin, and her muffled screams soon turned to little more than desperate gurgles of misery. Why were the big mean jerks giving her so many Prickly-Wicklies? She wanted presents and care, not stress! They weren't giving her what she wanted, because they were trolls! Well, her father would take care of them once he got back!

At long last, the biting steel withdrew from her mouth, but it was far too late for the Rosey now. Her tongue and gums had been mangled beyond repair in what had to be the single greatest example of dental malpractice in the history of CWCville. And Cera didn't even have any teeth.

"WUUUUUUUHHHHGHGGGHHHHHH!" she bawled, coughing and spitting out the bloody remnants of her tongue onto her little blue shirt. There wasn't much left except a few meager scraps of meat. She'd swallowed the rest of it, along with about half a cup of her own blood.

"And you didn't even have to open her mouth," Allie commented, smiling as she passed Jexis a Zippo lighter. "Here. She's probably gonna bleed out if you don't cauterize the-"

"No need. Check this out." Grabbing a pair of forceps in each hand, Jexis clamped them down on both the left and right flaps of Cera's harelips and pulled back hard to reveal the inner part of the baby chu's mouth. The Rosey shrieked in pain and opened her mouth, but the medic quickly fastened a third pair of forceps onto her lower jaw and pulled it open. The ragged stump that had once been Cera's tongue had completely healed over, and was no longer oozing blood. Whatever the CWC Orange Soda was doing to her bloodstream, it had accelerated her own healing factor.

Unfortunately for her, these new DNA enhancements did nothing to lessen the pain.

"GUGHUGHUGHUGHGUHGUHGUGUHGUGHUGH!" gurgled Cera, thrashing around in an attempt to somehow dislodge the cold metal from her harelips and jaws. "GUUUHGUHUGUHGUHGUGHGUGHUGHGUHUGHGUHGUGGUGH!"

"Care to do the honors?" Jexis asked as she passed a pair of surgical scissors to Kevin.

"I got this." The Jerkop grinned as he reached over and grasped the upper two forceps. "Does this mean that she can heal anything now?"

"As far as I know, it only seals up cuts and wounds," answered the medic. "I think that would-"

RRRRRRRIIIIIPPPPP!

"EEEEEEHHHHHHHUUUUUUGHGHUGHUGHHEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHH! " screeched Cera as Kevin jerked upward with both pairs of forceps, tearing her harelips and her little black dot of a nose free of her face in a shower of blood. Dropping the severed flaps of skin onto the desk, the Jerkop observed his shrieking victim with sadistic glee, while Allie and Jexis looked on in amazement and disgust. Cera's face had been utterly mutilated beyond comparison, her mouth stripped down to little more than pale bone, weak muscle, and a layer of fat. The exposed organs that lay beneath her cheekspots hung by mere strips of skin, while blood oozed and dripped from her mouth and skinned face. Sure enough, though, within a matter of seconds, the torn vessels and arteries let off little puffs of white steam and sealed shut, effectively preventing the Rosey from bleeding to death while at the same time preserving her truly mind-boggling levels of pain.

"That," Allie whispered in awe as Cera continued screaming and gurgling on her own blood, "is fucking incredible. What the hell did you do to her?"

Jexis smiled. "Just a little bit of Grandpa Chris's greatest creation ever."

"My turn! My turn!" Hurriedly pulling on a pair of her own fireproof gloves, the Jerkop seized a scalpel and drove it into Cera's plump belly, then slit it open to reveal a mass of orange-tinted, squirming intestines. "Oh, ARCEUS! FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK'S WRONG WITH HER?!"

"WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH!" Nearly hysterical with burning agony and horror, the Rosey shuddered and cried as she felt the sharp blades and steel forceps enter her torso. Kevin quickly reached in and snapped off Cera's ribs one by one, exposing a violently pulsating orange heart and a pair of massive tumorous lungs that had nearly embedded themselves in her ribcage. Each crack yielded another shrill squeal of pain from the suffering baby chu, until the thin, bloody white bones at last lay in a little pile on the desk next to the makeshift dissection board. Cera's innards throbbed and spasmed of their own accord, as if a thousand tiny worms had hatched inside each organ and were fighting to be free of their disgusting little host. "WUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH HHHH!"

"Stage two," Jexis gasped in awe, her eyes firmly fixed upon the Rosey's writhing entrails. "The body's DNA assimilates the bioweapon, which…" She drew in a deep breath and continued. "…which means that once it takes over, it's going to start using her body as a springboard."

"For what?" Kevin asked, though he had a feeling he didn't want to know.

"Oh God. We didn't take natural progression into account." Jexis drew away from the spasming Rosey as Cera's piercing screams rang through the bedroom. "Pack it up! Get everything out of here! This thing's gonna keep replicating until…"

"EEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHGGGEEEEEEEE EEEHHHH!" screeched Cera as the skin of her armstubs peeled free of the dissection pin and reformed itself. "WAAAHHHHHHAHHAHHAAAAAHHHH! EEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH HHH!"

Wordlessly, Kevin, Allie, and Jexis gathered the untainted surgical tools together and backed away from the desk, just as the agonized Rosey managed to tear her feet loose and flopped down on the polished wooden surface, trailing her own innards as she continued to shriek and wail her deafening cries of shock and immense pain. The pulsing orange coils of intestine curled back into her belly, while the split flaps of skin reformed and sealed shut. Even though Cera's injuries had been healed, her screams continued to grow even louder and louder. The Orange Soda was consuming her, merging with her, fighting her stubborn regenerative abilities in its struggle to assimilate the tiny shrieking baby chu.

"How much more time do you think she has until things start getting really bad?" Allie asked under her breath as Kevin opened the bedroom door. "I mean, until it starts mutating her more?"

"I don't know," replied Jexis. "Five, ten minutes?"

"That'll work. Everyone out!" Kevin held the door for his squadmates, then hurried out to safety while Cera continued screaming and writhing on the desk. As Allie and Jexis turned toward Robbie's room to assist Nate with confiscating the dead Sonee's possessions, he slowly drew the door shut, then paused just before the Rosey disappeared from sight behind the door.

No. Not like this. Not after Matt.

Pushing the door open again, he stepped inside and slowly walked towards Cera. As the Rosey's cries of pain escalated into insanity, Kevin reached for the sheath on his belt and felt his fingers curl around the handle of George's hunting knife, almost automatically. He had waited two months for this moment, two months of enduring the greedy, selfish, entitled baby chu's endless whining for candy and presents, her disgusting justifications for her own actions at the expense of those around her, the way she used her spoiled, despicable siblings as tools to acquire even more praise and rewards from her horrible parents…two months of torture, two months in hell.

No more, he thought as he snatched a single Post-It Note and a pen from a stack beside Sonichu and Rosechu's computer. Rosechu was dead. Christine was dead. Robbie was dead. And very soon, the last of the original Electric Hedgehog Pokémon's brood would be in hell with them.

Kevin scribbled calmly, dotting each I and crossing each T with bitter satisfaction as he penned the note he'd been wanting to deliver to Sonichu since the fateful day of Chandler's return. Matt had died so needlessly, taken from his squadmates by a twist of fate. Had anyone confronted the Mayor himself about what he thought of such a tragedy, there was no doubt that Chandler would have simply brushed off any accusation of murder toward his beloved creation, followed by an insincere apology and a suggestion for Matt's friends and family to move on and forgive.

There was no reason why Kevin couldn't say the same about Sonichu's slain wife and children.

"You ever learn about karma, Cera?" he muttered in satisfaction, picking up the Post-It Note.

"Wuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh…" sobbed the Rosey. Her screams had died down, either from sheer fatigue or simply because the last vestiges of energy in her lungs had been expended during her surgery. "Huuuuuuhhhhhhhh…huhhhhhhh…huuuuuuwwwwwppp mweeeeeeeeeeuuuhhhh…"

"Help you?" Kevin glared at her and shook his head. "Why? Why the fuck should I help you?"

Cera burst into tears again, sobbing and blubbering with desperation and pain. If she had still possessed her tongue, the Jerkop had no doubt that she would have pleaded with him to help her because he was her friend…her Jewish friend…and that Jews were always supposed to help out any Roseys in need, because GodJesus wanted them to. Even as an Arcean-Christian, Kevin was utterly sickened by Cera's willingness to fashion her own ignorant expectations of religion into even more excuses to bully innocent families into giving her more and more rewards.

It was simply what she lived for. Cera Rosey and her ilk were parasites, and nothing more.

"See, Cera…" Kevin continued as he pressed the sticky square of paper to her shuddering belly, "karma is pretty much what happens when you do something nice and get something nice in return. Only problem is…it also works the other way. If your daddy did something mean, like…" He raised the knife and dangled the pointed tip above Cera's terrified face. "…like murdering someone's best friend right in front of them…well, you know what happens to him then?"

"NUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!" The Rosey's eyes bulged out of their sockets as the cruel blade ascended into the air, right above her swollen stomach. What was the stupid jerk talking about? Why didn't he love her? Why was he giving her so many Prickly-Wicklies? He was her friend, and by now, he owed her an entire shopping spree at the CWCville Shopping Center, along with seven ponies and eighteen bags of candy to make up for all the stress he'd caused!

Kevin grinned and stabbed down, hard. "Collateral damage, Cera. Collateral damage."

SQUICK! THUNK!

"WWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH H!" shrieked Cera as the massive hunting knife sheared through the paper and plunged down through her belly, embedding itself in the wooden desk as frothy orange liquid bubbled up out of the cut and began trickling down the sides of her shirt and skirt. Impaled like a giant fuzzy insect on a pin, she wriggled and writhed, screaming and screaming while spurts of thick citrus-smelling blood oozed forth from her little body. The skin on her armstubs and stumpfeet looked looser, more swollen, and now held a definite orange tint. Slowly but surely, the CWC Orange Soda was working its way through her, slowly turning her into a being composed of pure pain and misery.

Without another word, Kevin turned and walked away, leaving the last of Sonichu's children to her horrible, unspeakable fate. His work was done, and now the only task left was to make sure the aftermath of their little visit was just as heart-shattering to Chandler and his beloved creation as Operation Hedgeclipper itself would surely turn out to be.

Slowly but surely, the Jerkop pulled the door shut, sealing Cera inside to writhe and shriek until the unstable chemicals in her grandfather's legacy finally decided to show mercy and peel her apart at the molecular level. Kevin didn't know if the Orange Soda was becoming sentient or if it had simply become some sort of all-devouring organism inside the baby chu's veins and nervous system, but he had a feeling that he didn't want to find out.

And besides, the Honey Badgers still had a lot of work to do.

Alone, pathetic, and helpless against the indescribable force burning its way through her insides, Cera Rosey lay on her back and screamed again and again. There wasn't much she could do in terms of movement. The thick steel blade of Kevin's knife had plunged all the way through her fuzzy body and was now embedded deep in the surface of the desk. And somehow, through some unearthly miracle, she was still alive. The universe obviously wouldn't let her die, since her aunt Angelica had told her that if she was a good Rosey and remembered to thank God and Jesus for protecting her from the evils of homosexuality, nothing bad would ever happen to her.

But if she was such a good Rosey, then why was she suffering? Why was she in so much pain?

"W…w…wuh…wwwuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh…" she whimpered, and raised her armstubs toward the knife protruding from her torso. The torn skin on both limbs had already healed over in streaks of orange scar tissue, no doubt due to another miraculous blessing from the GodBear. The pain was still there, building up higher and higher inside her tortured body with every passing second.

"How much more do we have left in the garage?" Jexis's voice sounded from outside the door.

"Just another few boxes." replied Al. "Oh, and find Cera's go-kart, too. I swear I just had it…"

"Kuh…kuh…kuhhh…" Cera stuttered, trembling with a mixture of pain and fury. It was hers! It was her go-kart, because Mommy and Daddy had given it to her! She'd earned it for enduring so much stress over the holidays, especially with that greedy Jew family and that fake Santa! Well, she had God and Jesus and the Bear and all the powers of her mother and father, since she was the chosen one, destined to marry a strong, handsome Sonichu and lead the next Chaotic Combo when she grew up! And since Christine was gone, she was the prettiest Rosey in the world now! If her siblings were actually dead, it was because they'd been stupid and selfish! Not like her!

Fueled by tard rage, the baby chu pressed her armstubs against the desk and tried to pull herself away from the knife. Piercing explosions of pain lanced through her belly, but she persisted. The jerks were stealing her go-kart that she so deserved to have! With a disgusting ripping noise, the sharp blade sliced through her soft, shuddering body, neatly butterflying her so that her torso and lower body were split right down the middle.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she squealed, squeezing her eyes shut and banging her stubs against the desk as a thick gush of bubbling orange goo and a disproportionately large mass of coiled intestines slithered out of the massive wound between her frantically kicking stumpfeet. The slimy pink tubes twisted and writhed and pulsated like a nest of worms, dripping with even more of her infected blood. There was something else…something buried deep inside her guts, a massive, excruciating bulge that emerged from her stomach and began pushing and wriggling its way down through the knotted maze of exposed innards.

SQUICK! SQUISH!

The bulge shuddered and writhed, swelling up until it had reached the size of an orange. Her guts were stretched to the breaking point, and it felt like they were going to rupture any second now…

RRRRRRRIIIIPPPPP! SQUISH! SQUICK! SPLAT!

"SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" screeched Cera, automatically reverting to her ingrained Pokémon characteristics as the pain in her torso skyrocketed tenfold. "WOSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

Through her own piercing screams and the pounding of blood in her ears, the agonized Rosey could barely make out another, frighteningly familiar sound…a sound she knew all too well.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Wuh…Wuh…" she choked through her tears, fighting to keep her eyes open as the gelatinous orange liquid dribbled from her nose and mouth. "Wob…Wobbie? WOBBIE! WOBBIEEEEE!"

The pain lessened, and Cera flopped over onto her belly. Clenching her gums together, she drew a tortured breath and feverishly crawled around in a circle. Her exposed intestines were pulling themselves back inside her split body, the knife wound was already knitting itself together, and even her severed, shredded little tongue had reformed itself. It still hurt more than any kind of hurt she'd ever known, but she knew that in the end, she would survive. As long as she could outlast the horrible tortures that the Jerkops had heaped upon her, Daddy and Grandpa Chris would always love her and take care of her. She was a special Rosey, the specialist Rosey in the world, and she was going to grow up and marry a Sonichu one day!

Filled with fresh determination, she opened her teary eyes to see a quivering ball of yellow fluff curled up on the desk in front of her and squealing in terror. As she watched, utterly stupefied, the fuzzy lump twitched and rolled over, exposing its identity to Cera at last.

It was a Sonee. A tiny, soaking, four inch tall baby Sonee, barely out of its embryonic stage.

Apart from the gooey cocoon of CWC Orange Soda dripping out of its fur, it looked just like her brother Robbie had looked two years ago, when she and Christine and Sonichu and Rosechu had all gathered around the big incubator crib to watch their new baby weakly try and kick his way out of his egg. The effort was simply too great for the unborn Sonee, and eventually, Sonichu had simply picked up the egg and cracked it against the side of the dining room table, spilling the screaming little chu and a thick gush of amniotic fluid out onto the surface. But the thing that now lay before her…it didn't just look like her brother. She knew, in her heart…it was Robbie.

"SO…SON…SONEE!" wailed the newborn Electric Hedgehog Pokémon, and began kicking its stumpfeet up and down in discomfort. Cera's confusion instantly turned to rage as she realized the trolls had been lying to her! Robbie wasn't dead! Robbie was still alive, and that meant that he would be the leader of the next Chaotic Combo now, not her! She'd endured all that pain and stress for nothing! She had been so responsible, always working so hard to look after her little brother, facing such strenuous challenges as always telling Heather Iglesias what to do and making sure the nanny didn't corrupt Robbie's impressionable mind with her dirty homo ways!

It wasn't fair! This wasn't the way it was supposed to be! She'd been so sure that Kevin had been telling the truth, because Jews never lied, especially not to Roseys. She'd been so excited at the prospect of being just like her mother – beautiful, hardworking, courageous, kind, a force for women's rights, ruling the Chaotic Combo with a handsome Sonichu at her side! And since the Jerkops had told her that her siblings were dead, it was their fault for building up her hopes!

For the first time in the little Rosey's life, jealousy took hold. Now she'd have to share all of her hard-earned presents with Robbie, instead of keeping them all for herself like the trolls had told her she could! If Robbie was here, then she wouldn't get the rewards she deserved anymore!

The last inch of torn skin between her stumpfeet sealed shut, and just like that, the pain dropped to a throbbing ache. Her intestines had retreated into her body cavity, leaving no trace of the horrific birth that had just taken place save for a puddle of orange liquid and the newborn Sonee that had, unbelievably, been formed from the scraps of her brother's flesh sitting in her stomach.

"SONEE!" it bawled, desperately thrashing around with its tumor-like limbs. "SONEEEEEE!"

Cera rose to her feet dazedly and waddled across the desk, her eyes narrowed in bitter jealous fury. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. She was a responsible Rosey, and she deserved it all.

"WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" shrieked the struggling baby chu. "SONEE! GOO-GOO!"

Without a word, Cera leaned forward, placed her armstubs against the Sonee's torso, and pushed.

"SONEE! SONEEEEEEEEEE! GOO-GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The infant Electric Hedgehog Pokémon tumbled over the edge of the desk and fell, screaming its last pathetic cries of pain and torment as it plummeted to the floor and exploded in a shower of CWC Orange Soda and gobbets of bloody flesh, leaving only a tiny crushed corpse and a pool of sticky orange goo behind. Its squeals ceased in a splattering noise, and the room returned to silence.

Smirking with relief, the Rosey hopped off the desk and paraskirted to the floor, next to the bloody ball of fur that she had just unknowingly birthed from her own stomach. She felt nothing for the newborn Robbie clone – just a sense of smug self-satisfaction and pride. Her body was no longer burning with pain – in fact, she was feeling better than ever! And best of all, there were no footsteps outside anymore, and no voices from the hallway! The trolls, at last, were gone.

Cera sighed in contentment and waddled over to the door. She had it all planned out and under control, like a good responsible Rosey. If she could get to a phone, she could call Grandpa Chris and tell him all about what the mean stupid Jerkops had done to her and how they'd given her so much stress and so many Prickly-Wicklies. The fact that she had never even used a telephone before was completely lost on her…as was the fact that Kevin had closed the bedroom door. And seeing as how Sonichu and Rosechu hadn't had a 'baby knob' installed, there was simply no way that she was getting out of the room anytime in the near future.

The first few tries yielded nothing but soft thumps as Cera pushed against the unyielding door with her armstubs. Frustrated by the difficulty of her situation, she sighed and continued shoving harder and harder, until beads of sweat dripped down her fuzzy pink face. Why wasn't it opening for her? Why was everything so hard? She was just a baby, and thus deserved a stress-free life!

"Pwobwem?" a high-pitched electronic voice giggled from the opposite side of the room.

Surprised, Cera looked over her shoulder to see another pink Rosey sitting nonchalantly on her bed and staring at her curiously. The newcomer's mouth was curled into a huge harelip smile and sticking her little tongue out, as if mocking the confused baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon.

"Wat awe you-" she began, then froze in shocked joy as she recognized the large pink object on the bed beside the second Rosey. "YAY! My kawt! You fownd my kawt! Gimme my kawt!"

"Nuh-uh!" SUZI made a little raspberry noise and hopped into the seat. "It's my kawt, stoopid!"

Cera's eyes bulged in surprise. No other Rosey had ever dared to call the firstborn child of the true and original Sonichu and Rosechu stupid. She wasn't stupid! Her mother and father were always telling her how smart she was, which meant that this dumb Rosey was trolling her! Well, she wouldn't stand for such slander! Rosechu had always taught her to stand up for women's rights. The troll Rosey would pay dearly for stealing the go-kart that Cera had rightfully earned!

"NO! IT'S MINE!" she shrieked, and stomped her little foot down hard. "WAAAAAAHHHHH! GIMME MY KAWT BACK YOU STOOPID TWOLL WOSEY! WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

The LIESA unit sighed. "My nayme is CEWAH Wosey, not Twoll Wosey, you dumb swut!"

"Wat?" Cera gasped. "No, I'm Cewah Wosey! I'M CEWAH WOSEY YOU WYING TWOLL!"

"Nuh-uh! You'we not Cewah Wosey! I'M Cewah Wosey, an you awe just a twollin impostowr!" SUZI smirked down at the raging Rosey and cheerfully waved an armstub. "My mommee is da owiginal Wosechu an my daddee is da owiginal Sonichu, an I hawve a wittle sistewr Chwistine an a wittle bwothewr Wobbie! You'we not Cewah Wosey, stooped twoll impostowr!"

Aggravated and unbelievably infuriated by the accusation, Cera puffed herself up as much as she could, which only served to make her look even fatter instead of taller. "YOU'WE DA TWOLL IMPOSTOWR! I'M DA OWIGINAL CEWAH WOSEY AN MY MOMMEE AN DADDEE-"

"Bo-wing!" SUZI yawned. "If you'we da owiginal Cewah, den why do I hawve youwr kawt?"

"DAT'S NOT YOUWR KAWT! DAT'S MINE! MOMMEE AN DADDEE GAVE IT TO ME ON DECEMBEWR TWENNY-FIFTH, TWO TOUSAND AN EIGHT, FOW C-MAS!" Cera let out a massive sigh. "I eawned dat fow being WESPONSIBWE wif Wobbie an Chwistine!"

The combat drone shook her head. "No, you'we just sum diwty wittle Fatty Wosey! I'm Cewah!"

"I AM NOT FAT GODBEAWR DANG IT!" screamed Cera, and waddled over to the side of the bed. Hopping up and down on her stumpfeet in absolute tard rage, she tried to grab the blankets and pull herself up with her static cling, but the massive weight of her body quickly put an end to that attempt. The Rosey fell and smacked the floor with a squeal, then toppled onto her back.

"Yes you awe!" sneered SUZI. "You wook wike you weigh a good thiwty pownds, Fatty Wosey!"

"I do not weigh thiwty pownds, I weigh a wot wess dan dat, you weak wittle twoll Wosey! MY NAYME IS CEWAH WOSEY, AN I'WL TANK YOU TA CAWL ME DAT!" Spewing fury and indignant hatred from every pore, Cera pushed herself upright and lunged for the side of the bed again. Armstub by armstub, she climbed higher and higher toward the top, doing her best to ignore the rivers of sweat running down her face and the heavy thu-thump thu-thump of her overworked heart pounding in her chest. Not surprisingly, the fat little Rosey only made it about four inches up off the ground before having to take a break.

"Tee hee!" SUZI leaned out over the edge and pointed an armstub at the panting, completely exhausted pink fuzzball. "Fatty Wosey's too weak! Fatty Wosey's too stoopid! Impostowr!"

"WAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" bawled Cera. "You…huff…you'we da…huff…impostowr…"

"Da weal Cewah Wosey couwd cwimb awl da way up here, wike I did!" replied the LIESA unit, goading her unsuspecting rival onward to her doom. "Fatty Wosey can't do it! Hee hee hee!"

With renewed vigor brought on by her escalating rage, Cera continued up the side of the bed, mustering up as much of her bioelectricity as possible to keep her dense thirty-pound body from pulling her down and breaking her grip. Just when she thought she couldn't possibly take any more, her armstub finally curled around the top of the bed. Gasping for breath, she flopped down on the soft covers and lay there, soaked in sweat, her underdeveloped muscles crying out for air.

"Huff…huff…see?" she panted. "I…huff…towd you I was…huff…was da weal Cewah Wo-"

VrrrrrrRRRRRRROOOOOOM! WHAM!

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH HH!" howled Cera as the go-kart accelerated without warning and slammed into her, knocking her backwards off the bed. With a gleeful cheer, SUZI jumped out of the seat and activated her skirt repulsors, hovering in midair as she watched the little vehicle tumble to the floor. Hurled across the room by momentum, the screaming Rosey slammed into the wall with a fleshy smack that knocked the breath out of her. She dropped headfirst like a stone and hit the floor upside down, alive but utterly paralyzed by the crippling impact.

Giggling with joy, SUZI touched down in front of her and winked. "HI THERE!"

"Wuhhhhhh…" gasped Cera, and began weakly trying to push herself down onto her side. All of the blood in her poorly-designed body was rushing straight into her head, making it swell up. "Huuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh…he…hewp…hewp mweeeeeeeeeee…"

"What?" The LIESA unit leaned forward, still smiling. Her twee-speak was gone, though Cera hadn't noticed this. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of your head asploding!"

"Guguhguhguhgughguhgh!" gurgled the Rosey, frantically kicking the air with her stumpfeet.

"OOH! I got an idea! I got an idea!" squealed SUZI, slapping her armstubs together happily. "I wanna play dress-up! Do you wanna play dress-up, Fatty Rosey?! I love dress-up! YAY!"

"Hrrrrhhhhhggghhh!" Cera groaned in hopeless frustration. The weight of her body was pressing down on her bulbous head, and the stupid jerk impostor Rosey was supposed to be helping her!

"All right, then!" In a flicker of LEDs, the little combat drone's eye-screens flipped from green to pure red. Before Cera could even draw breath to scream, SUZI had lunged with a hydraulic armstub and grabbed her by a stumpfoot, effortlessly heaving the baby chu up off the ground. As the Rosey struggled and wailed in terror, the LIESA unit reached for the zipper on her belly and pulled it down, causing her cloth skin to come loose. Hurling Cera to the ground, she tore the flimsy disguise off and flung it away, revealing her nightmarish steel endoskeleton.

"WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" screeched Cera, frantically trying to crawl away as the now-skinless SUZI floated toward her like some unearthly steel wraith. "NO! NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

In a flash, SUZI was upon Cera, snatching her by her stubby tail and tearing her clothes right off her fuzzy body as she writhed and kicked and shrieked in helpless fear. In less than ten seconds, the Rosey's tiny shoes, her blue shirt, and her skirt lay in a pile beneath her. Screaming from the pain in her tail, Cera could only stare, terrified, as SUZI hovered into the air with her fat flailing captive in tow. With a horrid rasping noise, a razor-sharp blade slid out of the PVCC combat drone's other armstub, gleaming with the hellish red light from its owner's eyes.

"Hee hee hee!" giggled SUZI, and pressed the tip of the blade to Cera's belly. "Dress-up time!"

"Phew! What a day!" Sonichu remarked out loud, dramatically wiping his forehead as he dashed down Brunchville Lane toward Number 14. "A hospital attack, five bank robberies, twelve fires, and a cat stuck in a tree!" He smiled self-assuredly. "Well, a hero's work is never done, and I am starving! I should head home; Rosey should almost be done making dinner by now."

Sniffing the air, the original Electric Hedgehog Pokémon smiled and slowed to a fast jog to savor the rich, smoky scent in the cool winter air. Whatever his wife was cooking, it smelled absolutely delicious. He couldn't wait to try some of it, and knowing Rosechu, it would most certainly be-

Sonichu stopped in his tracks and stared ahead in disbelief. A cloud of black smoke billowed into the night sky, and a flickering orange glow now bathed the street. Up ahead, a collection of men, women, children, Sonichus, Rosechus, and homebred Sonees and Roseys had gathered on the sidewalks and street. Two police cruisers had parked in front of the yellow house, and the human officers were now trying to keep the crowd behind a cordoned-off DO NOT CROSS line.

Fire. His house was on fire.

"ROSEY!" shouted Sonichu in panic, and zoomed toward the commotion as fast as he could. Taken by surprise, the gathered chus and humans hurriedly parted to let him through. "ROSEY! CERA! CHRISTINE! ROBBIE! HOLD ON! I'LL SAVE Y'ALL!"

"Sonichu!" Gerald Grant shouted frantically as he and Louis Perez leapt out of the way. "Wait! Wait, Sonichu, don't go in there! The whole thing's on fi-"

BOOM! Sonichu and the two officers were knocked flat as a loud blast tore through the garage. The scorched bumper of the family sedan exploded through the roof and slammed down onto the driveway, propelled out of the house by the exploding engine. Stunned, the crowd cautiously retreated a few feet backward, in case any more combustible items decided to go up in flames.

"What…what in GodJesus's name happened?" Sonichu gasped as Perez and Grant helped him to his feet. "What happened? Where's Rosey? Where are the kids? Please, someone tell me!"

"Sonichu," Louis Perez began apprehensively, "we got a call from your daughter Cera about ten minutes ago. She sounded scared…reallyscared, bro. We don't know what happened in there, but it looks like something crashed right into the kitchen." He pointed to the massive hole that the Battle Bus had punched into the wall of 14 Brunchville Lane. "Could be a PVCC firebomb."

"Oh God! Oh Jesus!" cried Sonichu in terror. "I have to get in there! They need to be saved!"

Grant shot a momentary glance at his partner and sighed. "Sonichu, we can't reach the Mayor's office for some reason. The station's been ringing Big C again and again, but Allison keeps telling us he's on a phone call with his friend…Julia or something. It doesn't sound right, man."

"What?" The Electric Hedgehog Pokémon stared at the officers. "Father's…busy?"

Perez nodded. "We're working on it. Don't worry; we'll get through sooner or later."

"Call the Chaotic Combo immediately!" shouted Sonichu determinedly, and hurried toward the house. "I have to save Rosey and the children!" Grabbing the handle, he flung open the door and dashed into the blazing inferno that was 14 Brunchville Lane.

"Sooner or later?" scoffed Grant as soon as the hero of CWCville had vanished. "Nicely done."

"Whatever." Perez shrugged. "If Chandler wants to keep strokin' it, who are we to stop his fun?"

"Damn right, Lou." Grant shook his head in disbelief. "Arceus. After all these years, they finally, really did it. I'm telling you, buddy, it was only a matter of time."

"Hope they got it on video." The officer chuckled. "Hope they suffered, Gerry. All of 'em."

Sonichu tore through the half-destroyed kitchen and the burning living room, his heart pounding in fear as he beheld horror after horror. The TV was gone, and so was the Nintendo Wii. The only thing the Jerkops had left behind were the remains of two VHS tapes – Mary Poppins andThe Adventures of the American Rabbit – both smashed to pieces and lying beside a tiny bloodied scrap of yellow fuzz…

"No…" Sonichu gasped as he knelt down and shakily picked up the gruesome object. Robbie's severed tail lay limp in his palm, half an inch of torn skin and fur. Squeezing his eyes shut in disbelief, he closed his hand around the little piece of his son and rose to his feet. Bloodstains were everywhere, trailing back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. There was no sign of the Sonee anywhere, not even a single lost shoe. The lack of any concrete evidence brought a small measure of hope to Sonichu's heart. Maybe the Jerkops had torn off Robbie's tail and he'd evolved into a Sonichu and beaten them up, just like his uncle Punchy!

Filled with fresh resolve, Sonichu dropped the tail and dashed back across the kitchen, paying no heed to the shattered, burning remains of the Sonee carcass on the floor. He had to find Robbie, no matter what! If his spunky little champ had evolved and fought off the Jerkops, then maybe…

Robbie's room was empty. Completely and utterly empty. The intruders had cleared out every last toy and game the Sonee had once owned, even his Nintendo DS and PlayStation 3. All they had left behind was a pile of Robbie's little blue running shoes, along with every single issue of the Sonichu comic book. Engulfed in a curtain of fire, the heap of paper and plastic burned, giving off an acrid stench and clouds of black smoke. There was nothing that Sonichu could do.

"ROBBIE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, whirling around as he frantically searched for his missing son. "ROBBIE! WHERE ARE YOU, PARTNER?! ROBBIE!"

Vrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvr rrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrrvrrr!

Sonichu's ears perked up at the familiar sound of the washing machine coming from the garage. Of course! Rosechu must have put in a load of laundry while dinner was cooking in the oven! Sprinting through the rec room, he wrenched the door open and hurried inside to see the remains of his car blazing away beside his and Rosechu's full-sized go-karts. The two ridiculous vehicles had both been set on fire, and Christine's little purple kart looked like someone had stomped it flat. But the washing machine was running at full force, belching steam into the air as it spun and spun. It must have overheated, due to all the fire coming from the cars.

Curiosity took hold of him, and Sonichu cautiously approached the rumbling appliance. There was something rattling around inside…severalsomethings, actually. It didn't sound right to him. Maybe Rosechu had left some spare change inside her dress again. Intrigued, he reached up and pressed the OFF switch, then waited a few seconds for the cycle to stop before…

The water was red.

Sonichu stared through the glass porthole and blinked, hard.

The water remained red.

There was no time to think. Acting on impulse, Sonichu grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open, releasing a boiling gush of red murky liquid that smelled faintly of lemons and high-fructose corn syrup. A cloud of steam billowed into his face and he leapt back with a startled yell. What had happened? What had they been doing to the washing machine?

Reaching into the steaming appliance, Sonichu's fingers closed around a tiny heap of clean white objects. There were more of them, all around the drum of the washing machine – little ribs and vertebrae and a pelvis…and a single fist-sized skull.

A baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon's skull.

Oh, GodJesus…

The smell was everywhere, sickeningly sweet and violently laden with citrus. Sonichu let the tiny collection of bones clatter to the concrete floor of the garage and collapsed backward, his head spinning. No. It couldn't have been Robbie. It couldn't have been Cera or Christine. There was nothing to prove that the Jerkops hadn't just caught a feral Sonee or Rosey and boiled it inside the washing machine. No one could harm his family! No one would dare kill his children!

Struggling to his feet, Sonichu backed out of the garage, leaving the remains of his own daughter scattered around the washing machine and on the floor. Christine Rosey lay in pieces, broken down into nothing more than boiled bones, skin, fat, and meat…but Sonichu would never accept the fact that his beloved shiny baby was dead. Not yet, anyway.

Step by step, the panicked Electric Hedgehog Pokémon made his way down the stairs and into the basement, silently hoping that he might find his missing family. Rosechu knew that if there was ever a fire in the house, the basement was the single safest place to hide. And she was a strong, independent woman who knew how to take care of her children! That had to be it! His wife had to have taken Robbie and Cera and Christine into the basement to escape the Jerkops!

"Rosey?" he called out, wishing with all his might for his family to be okay. "Heartsweet?"

There was no answer from the basement. Drawing a deep breath, Sonichu clicked the light on and stepped inside to see…

"OH GOD! GODJESUS! ROSEY! ROSEY! NO!"

Collapsing to his knees beside the naked, mutilated body of his wife, Sonichu flung his arms around the cold corpse and sobbed hysterically. Rosechu's head was completely gone, smashed flat into a mess of bone and brain against the concrete floor. Her fingerless hands lay in pools of blood, and there was no sign of her clothes anywhere. Clumps of purple fur had been scattered all over the basement, along with more blood and pieces of jagged glass from the broken mirror in the corner of the room.

To Sonichu, however, none of this evidence could compare with the body of his murdered wife.

"Rosey…" he wept, his hands trembling as he grasped feebly at her limp body, looking for some single speck of evidence that this was just some trolling attempt, that the Jerkops hadn't really butchered Rosechu and left her naked and dead for him to find, that he was just dreaming and that everything was going to be okay. "Rosey…no…why? WHY?! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

A clattering noise sounded from the kitchen. Startled, Sonichu leapt up from Rosechu's body and dashed back up the stairs. If Cera and Robbie were still alive, he might be in time to rescue them!

"Daddee? DADDEEEEEEEEEE! HEWP MWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Cera?" he gasped as he pulled open the door and burst into the kitchen, ready to save the day.

The little pink Rosey lay on the floor in a pool of orange blood, screaming and crying, her head and torso a mangled mess of bloody incisions and torn flesh. Sonichu froze, horrified, staring at his suffering daughter in utter shock. How? How could anyone have done such horrible, awful things to such an innocent little baby? Cera was flailing her armstubs and stumpfeet, bawling in immense pain and shrieking frantic cries for help.

"DADDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" she wailed again. "DADDEEEEEE! HEWWWWWWP!"

"Don't worry, Cera!" shouted Sonichu as he hurried to her side and gently picked her up in his gloved hands. Cradling his injured daughter, he placed her on the counter, beside the deep fryer. Robbie's ears were still bobbing up and down in the lukewarm oil, and the black streak of ash that had once been the Sonee's genitals lay on the cutting board, near more bloodstains. "Cera, who did this to you and Rosey? Where are Robbie and Christine?"

Cera sniffled and sobbed. "Daddeeeeeeeeee, it huuuuuuwwwwwwwwts! Hewp me! Hewp me!"

"It's okay, Cera! It's okay!" Sonichu shakily petted the Rosey's headspikes, taking care not to disturb the frayed flesh that lined the grievous incisions on her fuzzy little body. "We are going to get you to CWCville General Hospital and make all the Prickly-Wicklies go away! Everything is going to be okay, Cera!" He smiled weakly and looked around the kitchen, trying to hold back the screams of horror building inside of him. "Do you know where Robbie and Christine are?"

"Dey kiwwed dem!" screamed Cera, squeezing her eyes shut in hysterical sorrow. "Da Big Mean Pewson put Chwistine in da washing machine an da pywat deep-fwied Wobbie! Mommee's dead! Dey're awl dead! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Sonichu's legs turned to water, and before he knew it, he had collapsed to the floor. Tears spilled from his fused eye, running down his face and dripping from his black blob of a nose as he wept and sobbed at his daughter's confession. Across the kitchen, a tiny lump of fatty flesh lay blazing on the floor, sizzling and popping as greasy flames continued to consume it. Gasping for breath, Sonichu crawled toward the remains of his son, driven onward by some horrible desire to see for himself what had become of Robbie Sonee.

Only a few blackened, crushed bones and a pile of burnt fat remained within the shattered carcass of the baby chu. With a desperate moan, Sonichu reached out and picked up the little broken Sonee, unable to believe that someone had done this to his only son, the pride and joy of his life. Memories flashed through his mind – memories of teaching Robbie to run, of hanging the stockings by the fireplace with him at Christmas, of jogging beside the little Sonee as Robbie drove his go-kart through CWC-Central Park, of sitting with him at a McDonalds and feeding him French fries one by one…

"R…R…Robbie…" he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as he hugged the charred body of his youngest child. "Robbie…no..."

Outside, the crowd was shouting, murmuring in disbelief. Through a blurry haze, Sonichu rose to his feet and stumbled out the front door toward Grant and Perez, who had just been joined by…

"FATHER!" he screamed, sobbing with utter relief. "Oh Father, thank God and Jesus you are here! The Jerkops…they…they…THEY KILLED ROSEY AND THE CHILDREN! FATHER, THEY'RE DEAD! CHRISTINE AND ROBBIE AND ROSEY…ALL DEAD!"

"Now, ah, Sonichu, tha Jerkops can't…dey do not have tha trollin' abilities ta commit such a heinous crime," Christian Weston Chandler said confidently, smiling as he stepped forward to comfort the weeping Electric Hedgehog Pokémon. Sonichu noticed that, oddly enough, he wasn't wearing his medallion. "It was not, it was not tha PVCC jerks dat did dis! NO ONE can get through tha FOOLPROOF SECURITY of 14 Brunchville Lane!" He faced the crowd and smiled knowingly, as if daring them to challenge his statement. "Tha original Rosechu an' her kids…her three children, Cera Rosey, Christine Rosey, an' Robbie Sonee, are NOT DEAD! Dey are MY creations, an' NO ONE is going ta say udderwise because I have tha OFFICIAL COPYRIGHTED FORMS in my office an' on tha CWCipedia Archive website!"

"But…Father…" Sonichu sank to the ground, still hugging Robbie's scorched, crispy remains to his furry chest. "Father…Cera told me…Cera saw everything…"

"Dat is NOT TRUE," Chris insisted. "I will investig-, uh, I will go in an' show all tha people of CWCville, dat dis is just another attempt at SLANDERING tha official copyright an' tryin' ta steal my Sonichu an' Rosechu." He sighed heavily. "I have suffered tha WORST POSSIBLE SUFFERING tonight at tha hands of the evil Julie an' Max, an' these attempts of MURDER AND SLANDER are not making me feel ANY BETTER, THANK Y'ALL VERY MUCH!"

For once in his life, Sonichu didn't know what to say. His heart had been utterly shattered, and even Chris's blustering denial and blame shifting wasn't helping. Squeezing Robbie's shattered corpse, he let out a strangled moan as the Sonee crumbled to ash, leaving only a black smear.

"Now, Sonichu," Chris stated loudly, and smiled as he patted his creation on the shoulder. "Now, uh, dat was not tha original Robbie Sonee. Dat was just a widdle feral bay-bee Sonee dat was planted dere by tha trolls dat kidnapped tha real bay-bee Robbie!" He frowned. "Bay-bees do not get killed, an' not tha original Sonichu children, uh, Cera, Christine, an' Robbie! Tha, um, I will get tha Combo ta start lookin' for tha troll kidnappers ON THE DOUBLE!" Sighing again, he puffed himself up importantly and strode forward into 14 Brunchville Lane. Sonichu hesitated, then hurried after the Mayor to see what had become of his surviving daughter.

Cera was still lying on the counter, moaning in pain. Clumsily fumbling with the bloody Rosey, Chris picked her up and hummed an off-key lullaby, then rocked her back and forth in his flabby arms. He nearly dropped her once or twice, and it was more than obvious that he had never held a baby, human, chu, or otherwise, before in his life. Had Sonichu not been so utterly weakened by grief, he might have suggested that Chris give Cera over to him so he didn't hurt her anymore.

"Father…" he choked hoarsely. "Father, I found…I found Rosey in the basement, and Christine, they…they boiled her to death in the washing machine…"

Chris sighed loudly and placed Cera on the counter again. "I do NOT want all of tha STRESS, Sonichu! If tha original Rosechu is dead, which she is most certainly NOT, then I would advise you ta seek out a new one ta use as a substitute until tha original Rosechu is found an' rescued."

Sonichu couldn't even come up with a suitable reply. Rosechu had meant the world to him, and now Father was insisting that the body in the basement was not hers. Father would never lie to him, but he'd seen her there! He'd touched her! He'd wept over her dead body! They were two sweethearts, bound together forever and ever, and he knew it was her!

"Now, tha, uh, tha next step is ta gather tha Chaotic Combo an' find tha kidnappers," the Mayor continued. "I will call dem together after you get tha widdle Cera bay-bee to tha hospital an' I get my STOLEN PSN ACCOUNT back from dat HORRIBLE MAX AN' JULIE! OOOOHHH!" He clenched his fingers into a claw. "I have been horribly stressed, an', an' trolled…an' I do not appreciate all of dis stress…"

"Father?" Sonichu asked wearily, sinking into a chair next to his weeping, tortured daughter. "Is everything…is everything all right, Father?"

Chris sighed. "Well, Sonichu, my, uh, tha gal-pal Julie that I was talkin' to was not a, was yet another TROLL attempting ta steal my PSN account after I spent SO MUCH HARD WORK getting it back from tha evil Decepti-Clone Rosey! An' Julie, an' her brother Max forced me ta, he made me…" He looked at the floor, embarrassed, once again ignoring Sonichu's pain in favor of his own. "Dey made me shove tha original Sonichu medallion…up my, uh, my a-hole. I had to endure MOUNTAINS of stress ta shove dat original COPYRIGHTED creation up my butt!"

"But…Father…" moaned Sonichu, nearly insane with anxiety. "Father, my family is dead!"

"No, uh, Sonichu, your family is not dead," Chris insisted. "There is tha, well, tha widdle bay-bee Cera Rosey is still alive, an' we can get rid of all tha Prickly Wicklies an' save her…"

"I'm not dead!" Cera insisted from the countertop.

"I wasn't, uh, I was not finished," Chris said, annoyed. "An' den when tha bay-bee Cera is all better an' happy like she should be, den you can take care of her, Sonichu, until she evolves or-"

"I'm getting better!" added the Rosey.

The Mayor let out a long sigh. "Uh, Cera, you are a good Rosey, but I do not like being interru-"

"YAY! HEEHEEHEEHEE!" SUZI shrieked with playful laughter as she ripped her way out of her skin-suit and twirled in the air, splattering the countertop with Orange Soda-laced blood as the crude patchwork costume that had once been Cera Rosey's fuzzy pelt crumpled away in a limp heap. "IT'S ME! I WAS THE CERA ALL ALONG!"

Sonichu's jaw dropped. "Ce…Ce…Cer…Cera?"

"Nope!" The skinless LIESA unit crossed her stubs and shook her head. "Check the bedroom, homo!" She raised her hydraulic armstubs to the ceiling. "TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!"

FOOM! A blinding blue light exploded from SUZI's skirt repulsors as she rocketed through the ceiling, punching a Rosey-sized hole in the roof and leaving nothing but a few scraps of pink bloody fur behind. Stunned, Sonichu and Chris could only stare in awe as a shower of dust rained down onto the countertop, covering Cera's remains in a sprinkling of white powder.

"Guuuuuuuhhhhhh…" a faint muffled voice cried from far away. "Guuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh…"

Wordlessly, Sonichu rose from the chair and walked, as if in a trance, out of the kitchen. Chris was playing with Cera's skin, brushing off the dust and trying to piece it back together, but the Electric Hedgehog Pokémon paid the Mayor no heed. Step by painful step, he crossed the front hallway to the bedroom, where the piteous cries were originating.

Please, GodJesus, he thought in hopeless desperation, and squeezed his eyes shut. Please…

Reaching out with a trembling hand, he grasped the door's handle, turned it, and pulled it open, dreading what he might find on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

"Ggggggguuuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhh…ggguuuuuuhhhhh…Da aaaaaddddddeeeeeehhhhhh…"

Suspended by a dripping, glistening, gooey web of gelatinous CWC Orange Soda, the true and honest Cera Rosey floated in a cocoon of eternal agony, her skinless little body slowly spinning around and around as the transparent amoebic mass continued to feed off of her anguish. Her fat and muscles were exposed, trailing little red tendrils from where the gelatinous organism had burst forth from her tortured body. Her eyes were gone, her tongue was little more than a little scrap of flesh covered in holes, and when she screamed, the web of pain screamed with her.

Falling to his knees, Sonichu felt the last remaining vestiges of his Heart Level shatter in his chest. The last of his children, mutilated, tortured, and left to float in a prison of pure suffering.

"Daaaaaaaddddddeeeeeeeehhhhhhhh…" moaned the broken blob of fat and flesh that had once been his beloved daughter."Daaaaaaddddddeeeeeeeeehhhhh, hhhhhheeeeeewwwwwwppppp…"

In that moment, all hell broke loose inside Sonichu's mind. Before he knew it, he was screaming, screaming louder than he had ever screamed before, screaming for the wretched creature before him, for the pile of boiled flesh and scattered bones in the garage, for the crumbling, blackened mess that he himself had crushed to ashes…and for the dead, naked, headless, defiled corpse in the basement…the body of his own beloved Rosechu.

Sonichu screamed and screamed again. His cries echoed through the house, growing louder and more crazed with every passing second, until at last his voice gave out and he could scream no more. And still he continued to try, his entire body shaking with delirious grief as a frighteningly strained, hoarse rattling noise issued from his swollen throat. The skinless Rosey was screaming too now, an endless blubbering shriek of unprecedented suffering that filled Sonichu with fresh horror and nearly drove him into insanity then and there.

At last, the world turned black, and Sonichu collapsed to the floor. For the first time in his ten years of existence, he had fainted.

"Well, Sonichu, um, it appears dat tha…" Chris began as he stepped into the hallway and turned toward the bedroom, still clutching the torn pieces of Cera's fuzzy skin. "…dat tha Rosey, uh…" He froze, staring in utter awe at the slimy, pulsating monstrosity that now housed the one and only survivor of Operation Hedgeclipper…the last of Sonichu and Rosechu's children.

"Gggwwwwaaaaammmmpppaaaaaa…" Cera pleaded, her shrill, tortured voice echoing around Chris and Sonichu like some horrible organic PA system. "Hhhhheeeeeewwwwwwwpppppp…"

Chris sighed and stepped into the room, right over Sonichu's limp body. "Hmm. Uh, widdle bay-bee Cera Rosey, d'ya remember your Grandpa Chris?"

The gelatinous mass let out a piercing shriek. "Pppppwwwwweeeeeeeeeaaaaaassssseeeeee!"

"Don't worry, bay-bee." The Mayor leaned toward the skinless Rosey and stress-sighed once more as Cera continued her loud screeches of torment. The evening had been going so well, and now it was all ruined by these jerks and their horrible troll games. First he had been betrayed by the love of his life and forced to humiliate himself in ways even he had never imagined, and now Sonichu was being lazy and not taking care of his daughter like a responsible parent. Well, Chris would just have to take matters into his own hands if he was going to save the next generation of the Chaotic Combo. And anyway, he could always make Sonichu another wife. It would be fine.

Something glinted on the wooden desk that had once held Sonichu and Rosechu's computer. Clumsily making his way around the web of goo, Chris felt a sticky strand of the mutated CWC Orange Soda brush his arm. Surprisingly, though, it did not burn his skin or even hurt him. It just felt like a piece of Jell-O or Silly Putty, but stickier and filled with a sickeningly citrus flavor.

The tip of a large hunting knife was embedded in the desk, sticking through a single yellow Post-it Note. Curious, Chris reached out and, with no small amount of effort and a massive amount of grunting and sweating, managed to work the blade free of the desk. Grasping the piece of paper in his greasy, sweaty fingers, he held it up to his face and squinted through his glasses. The writing was fairly small, but he could still read it.

Dear Sonichu,

How does it feel to lose everything you ever loved? To have everything you ever cared about taken away from you? To be left with nothing but your own misery? I told you this would happen. I warned you. You didn't listen. And now look what's happened to your family.

Just remember…you brought this on yourself, Sonichu. This one's all on you. I suggest you try and remember the story of Joseph, and find it in your heart to forgive your failure and move on. Or hell, go out to Spencer's and buy a love doll to tide yourself over for a while. Or don't. Honestly, I don't give a fuck. I killed your daughter, and I'm going to kill you too.

See you soon,

Kevin Shaw

Sighing heavily, Chris turned the note over. There was writing on the other side.

P.S. If Christian Weston Chandler is reading this, then I only have one thing to say to you:

The CWC Orange Soda is eventually going to kill Cera, but you and only you have the power to save her. You see, the only way to stop the mutagen from peeling her apart is to put her in an enclosed space, full of human feces. You can do it, Chris. Are you brave enough to save her?

Sincerely,

Kevin Shaw

Chris let the note fall to the floor in silence. Gritting his teeth, he turned toward Cera and began unzipping his pants. Of course he was brave enough to save the Rosey! He was Christian Weston Chandler, the mayor of CWCville and creator of the Electric Hedgehog Pokémon! The Jerkop troll's slanderous remark was nothing short of an insult! Well, he would show that Kevin Shaw just how brave and powerful he was!

"Wuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh!" screamed Cera as she felt her grandfather's fingers push their way through the painful seal and pry her loose of her gooey, burning prison. "WUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH!"

"D…uh…don't worry, sweetie," mumbled Chris as he leaned forward and positioned the oozing, skinned Rosey over his bottom. "Everyth-, it's all gonna be okay, bay-bee. It's gonna be okay…"

"WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! PWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE! WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Dis, uh, dis'll make everything all better now, widdle Cera," Chris stated with a smile, and shoved her inside.

SQUICK! SQUISH! SQUICK!

"WUUUUUUUUUUGHHUGGUHGUGHGUHGUGUHGUGUGHGUGHUGHGHGUH GHUGHGUGHGUHGUGHGUGHGUGHUGHGUHGUHGUGHGHGGGGGGGHHHH H!"

Sealed inside her dark, reeking tomb, Cera gurgled and struggled, kicking and screaming and wailing and sobbing in a final, desperate attempt to break free of the suffocating, stinking walls pressing down upon her from every direction. All she knew now, and all she would ever know, was pain, nothing but pure, horrific pain without end.

When, the end finally did come fifteen minutes later, the little Rosey's mind had snapped. Devoid of air, her body simply asphyxiated and died, melting into a gooey slurry of Orange Soda and liquefied flesh. After hours of nightmarish pain, mind-shattering torment, and heartbreaking sorrow, the gruesome aftermath of Operation Hedgeclipper had finally come to an end.

But for Cera Rosey, Christine Rosey, Robbie Sonee, and their mother Rosechu, an eternity of suffering had only just begun.