How long…had he been sailing through the skies?

Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes blended into hours. Time was meaningless. Blink once, and an entire lifetime could fly by. Blink hundreds of times, and he'll have barely moved an inch. What was up or down? What was living at that point?

Why…was it getting so cold?

Amos wasn't even sure what he was thinking anymore. His mind drifted into a plethora of thoughts in an effort to keep himself awake. He underestimated how much power he put into his final Sandstorm. He couldn't tell how far up in threw him into the sky, but he was still alive. He wasn't being chased anymore. He was free to glide about the skies unimpeded.

However, with the icy wings of Yveltal wrapping around him, it may not be for long. He couldn't make sense of his current location or how far he had flown. He could've been in the sky for a couple of minutes or several hours. The fear of death kept him from passing out initially, but the adrenaline had long since passed. He was running on fumes now.

He felt his eyelids getting heavier, drooping every so often to lull him to endless slumber. He tried to stay awake, putting up with the strained flight for a little longer, but why bother? Where was he even going? He was in the middle of the Outlands. Landing anywhere was a death sentence.

Would it be so bad to just sleep for a few minutes?

His will to stay awake drifted more and more as began to lose altitude. He waned to the left, unable to sustain balanced flight due to his missing pincer. How he managed to fly for so long unbalanced and without part of his tail as a counterweight was a mystery even to himself, but the miracle was over.

His slow drift turned into a freefall as he lost more and more consciousness. With eyes barely open, he stared weakly at the fast-approaching earth, not registering the air rushing across his face. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so badly. A few minutes. A couple hours. Forever.

He just…wanted to sleep.

"…!"

Did he hear something? Was his mind playing tricks again? Sleep sounded so good now.

"…out! Look…!"

"H-Huh?"

"LOOK OUT!"

Amos got a burst of alertness as he finally registered the ground. He pulled his wings up and caught the air under them. He curved up and skidded across the ground, sending all his momentum above it before finally crashing down. His body rolled and tumbled like a rag doll across the sand before crashing into something that broke on impact.

"Uuuuugh…" he groaned. His vision darkened. The light around him faded away as his mind finally succumbed to the pain.

Sorry, Althalos. Guess I'm not…catching up anytime soon.

Slumber took hold, and the Gligar fell into darkness, knowing he'll never see the light of day ever again. He accepted his fate and let his last conscious thought echo out through his mind to lull him to silent night.

Amos didn't know what it was like to die. He didn't know if there was an afterlife, if he would reincarnate, or if he was would just exist in a nebulous darkness with no form of thought. He was ready to accept either outcome.

Instead, though he was hardly lucid, he realized he was still himself. He had thoughts. He felt aches across his body. He felt…alive.

Whaaaaat?

Amos tried to turn onto his side, though found his body to be too sluggish to move without great effort. Actually, as he became more aware of his surroundings, he found that he wasn't lying on the cold earth like he expected. Granted, wherever he was lying, it wasn't comfortable. It felt like he was lying across a wood floor with a blanket and pillow.

Something damp lay across his forehead, possibly a hand towel. His pincer and tail ached, but the pain had dulled significantly. The rest of his body felt banged up, too, no doubt due to his last-minute landing. The aching over his left eye told him it was bruised.

Amos opened his unbruised eye slowly, expecting to be hit with a blast of harmful light, but found he was in a relatively low light environment. Light flickered off the walls, telling him the room was illuminated by a small candle or far-off lantern. He scanned his surroundings, working up the strength to crane his neck.

Beaten-down shelves with glassware stood nearby arranged across the space. Windows were boarded up with rusty nails. Little glimpses of sunlight poked through the cracks. Stacks of barrels sat in the corner with a mess of supplies piled around them. An old sign hung by a broken chain over a door. It read Ye Olde Shoppe.

Am I…in a storehouse?

Based on his current predicament, he had a decent idea of what happened last night. Someone saw him crashing out of the sky, brought him into an abandoned storehouse, and nursed him back to health. That much made sense, though…wasn't he still in the Outlands? He half-expected his body to be ransacked for valuables. Or eaten. Or defiled. Or all three.

"…Wait a minute." Amos lifted his pincer and pulled up the blanket. He narrowed his eyes at the large, ragged cloth tied around his lower half. "…These aren't my clothes."

"Eep!"

Amos turned his head toward the source of the noise. He glared as he saw a bundle of cloth shivering from behind a chair. He could make out a few features, like the patchwork face and a blue scarf wrapped around the neck. The pitch of the voice told him it belonged to a young woman, possibly early twenties.

"Who are you?"

"…" The cloth bundle shied behind the chair.

Amos gritted his teeth. "If you don't show your damn face right now, I'll kill y—" He winced and fell back against the pillow. "Agh, my head…!"

"…" The cloth bundle showed herself.

Amos tilted his head and realized while she looked like a living cloth sack. She was, in fact, a Mimikyu. She wore the classic Pikachu sack that all Mimikyu adored wearing, though hers had signs of patchwork being done as shown by the many stitches along the face. His eyes naturally gravitated to the poorly drawn face, but he gradually looked down at the two holes in the chest area, which blinked back at him.

"Uh…h-h-hi," she mumbled.

"…" Amos glared. "If I find out you raped me or something while I was asleep, I'll—"

"AH! N-No, of course not!" she squeaked. "I only removed your clothes to treat your injuries, I swear!" Two spectral arms poked out from under the cloth. She tapped her fingers together awkwardly. "You took a nasty fall and got banged up really bad. If I didn't treat the cuts, they could've gotten infected and…" She whimpered and turned away from him. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to look so invasive!"

Amos winced. "Stop whining. You're pissing me off." He groaned and rested back into the pillow. "What the hell happened last night?"

She turned back around, awkwardly wringing her hands together. "I-I was…collecting some things outside of town when I saw you careening out of the sky. You seemed pretty dazed, so I tried calling out to you. You must've been unconscious for a bit because you suddenly flew up before you hit the ground and crashed."

He glared. "I thought I heard something…"

"When I saw the state of your injuries, I…well, it j-just wouldn't feel right leaving you out in the open to die. I had my friend help me bring you back to our home, and she assisted me with treating your injuries—she didn't do anything to you either, I swear!"

"Stop whining so loudly!" he growled.

"AAAHHH! I'M SORRY!"

"I SAID—" Feeling his headache return with a vengeance, he bit back his shouting and fell back against the pillow. "Whatever."

The Mimikyu cautiously approached him. "Um…w-what happened to you, anyway?"

"That's none of your business."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"I'm sorry for apologizing so much…"

"…" Amos closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "You should've just let me die. I already had a lot to deal with the other day."

She narrowed her eyes. "I…I just thought…you needed help."

"We're in the Outlands, right?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Then you're a dumbass for saving me. What's stopping me from getting up right now and killing you so I can take all your supplies—" Right as he turned to face her, his eyes widened as she shakily pressed a revolver to his temple.

Tears welled up in her eyeholes. "Y-You're not going to k-kill me, right?"

"…" Amos slowly backed down and groaned. "No. No, I'm not going to kill you."

"Y-You're not?"

"No. Now…please put the gun down."

"…" She backed off, storing the revolver back under her cloth. "I-I'm sorry…"

"…" Amos sighed. "How long have you been living out here?"

"Five years."

"How many people have you killed?"

"…Four."

"And your friend?"

"Four…hundred."

He sighed. "Lucky me. I got saved by the only saints for miles."

She nervously rubbed her arm. "Uh…m-my name is Evelot Faucher, by the way. W-What's your—"

"None. Of. Your business."

"I'm sorry."

"Ugh…"

"Come one, come all, you lowlifes and scumbags! See to the wonders of our lovely town of Scornpeak! See to what secrets your neighbors, enemies, or neighborly enemies is hiding from the rotten public!"

For the Outlands, one would think any form of business was impossible to run without getting killed, robbed, or worse. A land without law meant no consequences to your own actions. However, if you weren't working for profit and purely for entertainment, suddenly everything changes.

The thugs gathered around a stand, collecting newspapers being handed out by the chipper Aipom in a tattered green dress and gray fur hat covering her ears. She threw out newspapers to all the passing lowlifes, each one catching and taking interest in what juicy stories were produced by the journalist.

…Though, this was hardly in goodwill on anyone's part.

"HA! I knew it! That shifty bastard ripped me off two coins! Quality ale, my ass!"

"Who the hell's been saying I have a limp dick?! Was it you?! WANT ME TO PROVE YOU BASTARDS WRONG?!"

"You're the one who burned my house down?! WHY YOU—"

"That jackass has been having sex with my partner?! I'M GOING TO RIP HIS ASS IN TWO!"

"How the hell did that blasted Aipom know I was having sex with—OH FUCK!"

"GET BACK HERE!"

The Aipom snickered as the chaos in the streets ensued. Every day, she would write up her articles detailing all the little tricks and trades the criminals played in town and watched as they beat each other to a pulp. It was the best way to start off the week.

With the last of her papers given out, she hopped down from her stand and waltzed into the chaos. Dancing on her toes, she moved her hands and tail deftly, swiping from the unsuspecting rioters their valuables and trinkets. She threw everything into a sack she was hiding under her skirt, chuckling under her breath as it filled up bit by bit.

The news is truly bliss.

She danced her way out of the crowd and hoisted the sack over her shoulder. She tilted her head to the side, dodging a dislodged tooth that had been knocked out of some poor Passimian. She picked it up and inspected it.

"Hmmm…eh, I'm sure Evelot will find something to do with this." She tossed it into the bag and carried along her way, whistling a merry tune.

She stopped, however, when she spotted someone looming down one of the streets. It was a Carnivine, standing over a frightened Xatu with a vine constructing around his neck. He was joined by a Golbat and Magcargo standing by his side. The psychic bird eventually relented and handed the fly trap Pokémon some coins before being released from his stranglehold.

The Aipom narrowed her eyes warily at the interaction. When the Carnivine looked in her direction, she immediately went on her way trying to avoid eye contact.

Just ignore him, Phoebe. You've got the money for this week. Don't panic.

The Aipom, Phoebe, kicked up the door to the abandoned storehouse. After kicking the door shut behind her, she walked over to the far corner and dumped her bag of loot by a small workstation. "Evelot, I'm back!"

The Mimikyu poked her head out from behind a barrel, clutching onto a revolver. Upon seeing it was just her friend, she stored the gun away and shuffled out. "H-Hi, Phoebe. How was your day?"

She snickered. "Same as usual. Those dumbasses are going to kill each other and rack up a few more bodies by tomorrow. There should be plenty of ingredients to collect."

Evelot shuddered. "Please don't say it like that. It makes me anxious."

"Whatever." She folded her arms behind her head and marched around her. "Anyway, I've done my share of work for the day. Where's Mr. Sleepyhead?"

"Aaaaaagh. So damn loud…"

She smirked, spotting the grumbling Gligar resting in the shadows. "Ah, there he is." She approached him and knelt over his body. "Rise and shine, buster. You can't be sleeping in all day!"

He growled quietly. "Your voice is irritating."

"Is it now?" She snickered. "That's not a proper way to thank the people who saved your ass. I expect a bit more gratitude."

"I'll show my gratitude by not killing you after I leave."

"So harsh~. You're just as shitty as every other scumbag in this lowlife-infested town. Then again, what else do you expect out here in the Outlands?"

"I didn't ask to be saved."

"No one asks for a lot of things, but gifts come in many shapes and sizes. Some good, some bad, some non-refundable. You might as well be grateful while you're seething."

Amos tilted his head and glared up at her. "And why exactly have I been granted permission to live?"

She glanced over at Evelot, who was distracted over something at her workstation. Feeling the Mimikyu was out of earshot, she looked back at the Gligar with a firm glare. "Frankly, if it was up to me, I would've left you to rot in the sun…Amos of the Blind Luck."

"…You know who I am?"

"The moment Evelot asked me to drag your sorry ass back here, I knew exactly who you were. Blind Luck Amos, known to hunt women down and execute them. Am I correct?"

"…The details are exaggerated," he grumbled, turning onto his side.

"Perhaps, but your track record for getting into altercations with women certainly doesn't do you any favors. Just based on the way you've spoken to me, I've got a pretty good idea of what you are."

"Riveting. I don't care."

"And I don't care much for you, either. Fact is, the only reason I haven't busted your head open with a bullet yet is because Evelot pities you. Even if I don't agree with her decision, I'm not going to give her anymore stress than she needs to deal with." Phoebe glared. "So again, I'd be a bit more grateful about your situation."

He scoffed. "Typical."

"Pardon?"

"You think I didn't overhear what you said when you came in? You're not exactly a saint yourself. What did I expect from some woman? Especially one from the Outlands?"

Phoebe smirked. "We're all sinful out here. You're just lucky you ended up on Evelot's doorstep. I would've killed you the second I recognized you, or just watch you bleed out over the ground. Your corpse would've been useful, at least."

"Devil woman…"

She shrugged. "Say what you will, but you're in no position to be talking shit." She stood up and dusted her skirt off. "So again, try and act grateful."

"I don't need your charity."

"Well, you're gonna have to take it anyway. The medicine Evelot fed you is going to make it pretty difficult walking, much less getting anywhere through the Outlands."

"I can't go out in the day."

"Perfect! So, you're stuck with us until you get better. Lucky you!"

"…" He glared up at her. "I've decided that I hate you."

She smirked. "I loathe scum like you. If you weren't already crippled, I would've started stomping on your ribs about now. Though, if you want to take your chances with the dickheads outside—"

Amos rolled his eyes and rolled onto his side. "I don't want to hear it."

"Then do us both a favor and stay quiet." Phoebe threw off her hand and walked away. "I'll make you some dinner later…if I bother remembering to feed you."

Amos sighed through his nostrils before burying his face into the pillow. Based on the state of his injuries, it'll be a long few days before he had the strength to walk on his own. The other issue, however, came to his lack of resources and defense options. He was down a tail and pincer. He wouldn't be able to fire a revolver like usual, and he couldn't stab anyone without his stinger.

For now, all he could do was sleep it off and consider his options before he was inevitably kicked out by the loathsome Aipom.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Amos was starting to think sleep wasn't an option anymore.

He had nothing but time on his pincers, so all he could accomplish was resting his eyes and reviewing his situation before his eventual departure from the scum-infested town. He had to consider supplies, how he would defend himself in a fight, and how he was going to make the journey to eventually find the rest of the Dukes.

Instead…all he could think about was how irritating the constant knocking was getting!

Throughout the day, there had been nothing but a constant stream of knocks on the abandoned storehouse's front door, followed by the irritable shouts of several jackasses shouting for the Mimikyu on the other side. Evelot's periodic shrieking and clanking of glasses furthered the cacophony of noises as she would rush to the door before whoever was knocking thought of blasting it open.

Amos shielded his face under the pillow as sunlight poured into the storehouse. Dammit all!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Evelot cried. "I was distracted with my work and—"

"I don't give a shit! Do you have my medicine or not?"

"AH! Right, sorry!"

Amos clenched his teeth, listening to the Mimikyu speeding around the shop, clanking more glasses together, and rushing back to the impatient jerk at the door.

"Th-Thank you for your patronage. Have a—"

SLAM!

"Okay, byyyyyye…"

It went on like that for most of the day. He would try to sleep, someone would be banging on the door, and Evelot would be making a fuss trying to get everything in order. He winced as Evelot would often knock over vials and send glass flying over the floor. A piece of glass even landed near him.

"Ah! I'm sorry, mister!"

Amos took the brief moments of respite whenever he could, often drifting back to sleep before being rudely pulled out of it by another irate customer demanding the Mimikyu's attention. He wasn't sure what exactly she did for a living, though it sounded like she was the closest thing the town had to a doctor.

The fact there was even a reputable doctor in the Outlands to begin with was a miracle itself.

Then again, to say every interaction with the Mimikyu went pleasantly was an exaggeration. Right as Amos tried to go back to sleep for the tenth time today—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

Having grown use to the incessant knocking, the Gligar peeled his bloodshot eyes open and listened in on the newest customer's complaints.

"I'm here for my medicine."

"A-Ah, of course! I was expecting you." He listened to Evelot shuffling through the storehouse before returning to the front door. "H-Here you go. That'll be seven bits."

"Here."

"…Uh, this is only three."

"Yeah. So?"

"I-I'm sorry, but the price was seven."

"Yeah? Well, I don't have seven bits. Consider yourself lucky I'm bothering to pay you, bitch."

"L-Listen, I k-kind of need the money, too. I-I can lower the price to six if you want—"

"I'm not paying for this overpriced crap!"

"Then I-I'm afraid I can't give you the medicine."

"What?!"

"AH! P-Please don't come inside!"

Amos glared as he heard heavy footsteps entering the storehouse. He searched around himself before reaching for a discarded bottle.

"Maybe I should just take my medicine. How does that sound?"

"S-Sir, please! If you d-do anything to me, a lot of angry thugs are going to be…well, angry at you."

"Then hand over my medicine—HEY!"

"N-Not until you pay!"

"You think hiding it up that cloth sack you're wearing is going to save you?!"

"Wha—AH!"

Amos' eyes widened. What the?

"Where'd you put it?!"

"Th-This is sexual assault!"

"Give me my damned medicine, you stupid bitch—"

BANG!

Amos jolted as a gunshot rang out over the store, followed by a heavy body collapsing onto the floor. He rolled onto his side and spotted Evelot collapsed onto the floor with a smoking revolver clutched tightly in her hand. Her costume was wrinkled and pushed up, revealing the dark mass hiding underneath. With her laying in the open sunlight, Amos could see the hideous miasma of darkness spilling out as he gazed upon what lay underneath.

He immediately turned away as he felt his mind sinking into darkness. Creepy.

A side door flew open, and Phoebe came rushing out with a sleep mask covering half her face and a rifle in hand. "What happened?!"

"Ph-Phoebe…" Evelot whimpered.

"…" The Aipom pulled the rest of her sleep mask over her forehead and groaned. "I'll get the wheelbarrow and shovel."

Amos closed his eyes and groaned. I'm surrounded by psychopaths.

Over the past couple of days, Amos got a read on how the girls went about their routines. Evelot was awake during the day, tending to customers' needs with her medicines and whatnot. Phoebe was awake during the night, tapping away at the workstation with a quill and ink and writing up whatever diabolical rumors or tall tales she could conjure to rile up the townsfolk.

Amos kept going in and out of sleep, so he didn't have a fixed sleep schedule. He was mostly kept awake by the chatter going on every day. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford anymore.

Fortunately, Phoebe kept to her word and fed him whenever she got the chance. It wasn't the most appetizing of meals. If anything, it was just a bowl of chowder that tasted slightly better than whatever was served at the prison.

Amos struggled to sit up and eat his chowder. It took a great deal of effort to rise out of bed, but his arms were still weak from the medicine he was fed. He picked up his spoon and tried to feed himself, but the spoon kept slipping out of his pincer. Between being sufficiently weakened as well as being right-pincered, he couldn't manage even the simple task of eating.

Phoebe eventually noticed this after hearing the Gligar cursed for the umpteenth time during his meal. She knelt beside his cot and smirked as he dropped his spoon again. "Need some help~?"

He scowled. "I don't need your help eating."

"You sure? You look like you're struggling a bit."

"I'm fine." He tried picking up the spoon again, but it slipped out his pincer again. "Agh!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're going to wake Evelot if you keep growling like that."

"I don't care." He tried to go for the spoon, but she swiped it out of the bowl. "HE—" She covered his mouth.

"Hush. Open." She scooped up the chowder and held it up to his lips.

Amos growled at her, but his stomach growled back at him. Groaning in defeat, he opened his mouth and let her feed him. She smirked as he lapped up the spoonful and swallowed with the grumpiest expression he could conjure.

"What do you say~?" she teased.

"Fuck you."

"Hmph. Well, I've got things to do, so how about I simplify your little problem?"

She grabbed the back of his head and dunked his face into the chowder. She tossed the spoon away, laughed, and walked back over to the workstation while Amos grumbled inside his bowl. Though resigned to his predicament, he let loose a string of swears as he ate out of the bowl.

Amos had about enough with the insanity around him.

He waited throughout the night, pretending to sleep, as Phoebe occupied herself with her nightly scribbles. The tapping of her quill echoed across the storehouse, each stroke of the ink-covered instrument delivering a splash of text that would soon become the commandment of violence that will invoke rage upon the criminal-infested town. Based on the speed of her writing and the amused murmurs she hummed, it sounded to be some of her best work in the making.

Eventually, the Aipom set aside her writing tool and stretched out her limbs before departing from her desk. Amos listened carefully as she walked out of the main room, likely to relieve herself. Once he heard the bathroom door close, he threw off his blanket and rose to his feet.

His legs wobbled under his weight, still sluggish from the pain killers. He balanced himself against the shelves, taking a second to catch his breath. He kept his right arm tucked around his body and curled his bandaged tail around his waist. After composing himself, he shuffled slowly for the door.

He didn't have much of a plan in his current condition. All he could hope for was lucking out on supplies. He needed rations, water, a blindfold for the daytime, and a weapon. After that, it was just a matter of getting out of the Outlands. Fortunately, Scornpeak was relatively close to the neighboring Verde Kingdom. Escaping to there would be advantageous, though the journey would take many days on foot, especially in his current state. Flying was out of the option. Despite managing to the first time, he doubted he could properly glide on his Sandstorm without his aerial balance. Plus, he was barely conscious the first time. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he was consciously aware of his limitations.

It wasn't much of a plan, but staying in the Outlands was an inevitable death.

After five minutes of careful shuffling, he reached the front door. Breathing a sigh of relief, he removed the wooden bar blocking the door before pulling on the handle—

"Nice try." A large, fuzzy hand reached over his shoulder and gently pushed the door shut.

Amos glared. "I thought you wanted me gone."

Phoebe grabbed him by the wing and pulled away from the door. "Evelot's my boss, and she told me to keep an eye on you." She grabbed the wooden bar with her tail and locked it back into place on the door. "You should be—"

"Grateful, I know," he grumbled.

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, is accepting our help too much to handle?"

"I have no reason to trust you people."

"Because I'm an Outlander? Or because I'm a woman?"

"…"

"Well, like it or not, you're not leaving until it doesn't take you a decade to hobble to your escape. Seriously, how long did you think it would take for me to piss in a bucket? I was watching you walk like a crippled old man for three minutes." She shoved him back onto his cot before walking back to her writing desk.

Amos collapsed back against his pillow and glared at the ceiling. "Why…exactly does the Mimikyu want to help me?"

"She's kind. Is that a foreign emotion for you?"

"…" He scoffed. "There's nothing kind about this world."

"Ah, the one thing we agree on so far. The world's full of scum, rot, and death. I'm half-expecting this region to burn under its own self-imposed hatred and corruption." She picked up her quill and dabbed it into her inkwell. "Evelot's naïve, but I stick with her because someone needs to keep her safe."

"What does that mean?"

"I believe your exact words earlier were…none of your business."

"…" Amos closed his eyes. "Whatever."

Phoebe glared down at her half-written article. "The Outlands draw out some of the worst kinds of people, but they all come to this lawless land to escape from something. Maybe we just don't belong in normal society, or it's just that we were meant to be scum. Who knows? Who cares?"

"…" Amos sighed and turned onto his side. "Sounds about right…"