Skeleton Water – Abandoned Burkhard Residence

Caractacus kicked the withered door off its hinges and let himself inside, kicking up a cloud of dust. He fanned the air clean as he entered the living room. Magni stuck his head in, though couldn't get the rest of his body through. Seeing as the house was barely livable as is, he forced his way through, tearing the doorframe apart.

"…Sorry," Magni mumbled, clumsily teetering into the living room. His horns dug through the ceiling, raining debris down and startling the Slowking that backed away from him. "Sorry."

Caractacus waved it off. "Meh." He looked around and winced at the bloody chains hanging from the ceiling. "Sheesh, and a part of me was hoping she was exaggerating." He glanced at the far corner of the living room and saw a pile of skulls taking up space. "…Really, really wishing she was exaggerating." He shook his head and continued on through. "Alright, so the first trip toward understanding Phoebe? Deranged childhood checks out."

Magni sniffed the stale air. He growled. "Blood. Flesh. Strong smell."

Caractacus sniffed the air, too. "No kidding. It's the only thing I can detect in this dump. It smells like how I imagine a morgue would." He walked over to the kitchen and started raiding the drawers. "Less sterilized, though. Based on the state of their cutlery, I'm surprised she hasn't died from tetanus."

Magni sniffed the ground, following his nose to the connecting hallway. "Rotting flesh. This way."

Caractacus finished his inspection and waltzed to the hallway. With the master bedroom the first in sight, he brazenly shoved the door open. "And what's behind door number—whoa! Wow…"

Magni stuck his head through and saw the pile of bones resting on the bed, and their particular shape indicated the species almost instantly. "Father?" he mumbled.

Caractacus nodded. "Yep, that's Phoebe's dad, alright." He entered the room and inspected around the bed, noting the collection of bloody knives and daggers on the floor. "He certainly had some hobbies."

"Meaning…?"

Caractacus glanced at the wardrobe and noticed something hanging off to the side. Moving closer, he saw it was a collar and chain, and perhaps the only thing in the room that was clean. He picked it up and inspected it. Curiously, despite how pristine the collar was, there was something stuck in the hinges: black fur.

"…Phoebe said something about her mother being a Savage Kin, right?"

Magni glared. "Reverted."

"…" Caractacus placed the collar back on the wall. "If my knowledge is correct, Savage Kin are devoted to the old ways, though more modern sectors of your culture have tried to bring in the best of both worlds: appreciating their savage roots while attempting to gain recognition within society. Of course, such fears of reverting lead to two paths dictated by society: you either renounce your roots and become a civilized member of society, or you're treated like the animal you once were. Is that true? That if you're impulses are left unchecked in an unhealthy state of mind, you'll permanently regress?"

"…" Magni sighed. "Not…dumb. Savage Kin wise. Strong minds, stronger instincts. Balance. Become beast. Or become wise beast."

"Your culture is far more complex than I gave it credit for. I first assumed you were all devoted to the carnivore lifestyle, but I suppose in the attempts to uphold your culture, those appetite never go away." Caractacus raised his brow. "I'm curious. What's your take on savagery? What is the ultimate end goal? Is it a lifestyle, or a religion?"

Magni glared. "Freedom. Freedom…from chains. Truest expression of self."

"Unrestricted display of the self by stripping oneself from the chains of society and the molds it naturally forms. No division of class, nobility, state, and more. You are simply living as yourselves in your natural states. A fascinating mindset." Caractacus sighed. "One I almost envy. I value my mind beyond everything else, though the temptation of simplicity does have a certain charm to it."

Magni huffed. "Rude."

"Don't mistaken my analysis as a critique of your choices. If anything, I admire it. Despite everything you've been through, you chose your role in this world." Caractacus frowned. "I didn't have much choice. I was raised into crime, and now it's the only thing I know." He closed his eyes and sighed. "And that's probably what Phoebe is going through. Hmm…"

Magni settled, taking another glance around the room. "Phoebe rejects savagery."

"Given her lifestyle, did she ever truly love this side of herself?" Caractacus sighed. "Let's keep searching around the house."

Meanwhile…

"Uuuugh…urgh…" Sweat dripped down Phoebe's brow as she stirred under the covers. She clutched her head, growling through clenched teeth. "N-No…no…"

Oblivious to the world outside her dreams, the once stationary cube known as Alpha hovered from its spot and over Phoebe's bed, gazing upon her with the soft blue light of its eye. The patterns across its surface pulsed in brief flashes of light.

"N-No…no…" The cube floated closer to her. "…dreamcatcher ward off murder house…"

"Agh…!" Phoebe arched her back, snarling aloud as she tossed and turned in bed. "N-No…! No! I'm…not a…demon…" She eventually settled and collapsed back onto her pillow, her face still contorting and sweating. "Not a…demon…"

"…not a demon…"

Nightmare World

Six-year-old Phoebe sat upon the bloodstained couch of the family room, eyes vacantly staring ahead at her father who was hard at work. He decided that today was the day Phoebe got to know the family business, and what better way to learn than through experience?

As he slipped gloves over his hands and tails, the adult Ambipom explained, "You see, Phoebe, I had dreams of being a surgeon when I was your age. I just found the subject so fascinating. I learned so much about the anatomy of different types of Pokémon, but…there was just something about the visuals in books that didn't do it for me after a while. I needed experience. I needed to taste the blood for myself. It's so thrilling."

Young Phoebe tilted her head. "Thrilling?"

He laughed, walking over to the couch and gently booping her nose. "You carry a little bit of me in you, my spawn. You'll understand that thrill when you're older." He sighed before turning back to his work. "Anyway, how about a demonstration? Thank you for volunteering, my good man!"

Chained and dangling from his ceiling was a helpless Salamence, with bloodied hooks stabbing through his legs and wings torn to shreds by even more hooks. The dragon's bottom jaw was torn off, leaving his tongue to wildly flail as he screamed incoherent threats and pleas at his captor.

The Ambipom chuckled. "Yes, yes, volunteering your body in the name of science is a wonderful cause." He pulled out the Salamence's missing jaw from his pocket, grabbed his head, and pressed the jaw back into place. "Gee, it's such an honor to take part in one of your experiments, Boso!" he exclaimed, using the severed jaw like a puppet.

"GYYYYAAAAHHHH!" the Salamence roared.

Boso tossed the jaw aside. "Well, I do it for the love of the art, not for the science." He pulled a short sword out from behind. "Are you watching, Phoebe?"

Young Phoebe nodded softly.

"Excellent. Now, observe."

Before the Salamence could react, Boso smoothly glided the sword along his exposed underside, tearing through his skin and muscle in record time. The dragon screamed as Boso plunged the sword through and dug up until the split torso widened, causing organs to spill out and dangle in the open with blood pouring out like a waterfall. He grabbed and ripped out one of the kidneys, causing the Salamence to scream.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Boso asked, showing the kidney off to the dying dragon. "How often does one get to see their own organs in person?" He tossed the kidney over to Phoebe. "Here you go, squirt. A present."

He dug his tails through the opening, ripping out more and more flesh and organs with the dragon gradually losing consciousness. Boso unraveled the stomach, holding the bloody mess in his arms.

"Hmm, wonder if these are still good. Oh well." He whistled to the kitchen. "Oh, my beloved? Dinner is served."

Young Phoebe glanced over at the kitchen as her mother trembled through. A Luxray wearing a metal collar stared at the disemboweled Salamence with a hunger in her eyes. Her eyes were sharp, cold, and without a spark of light. Her fur was disheveled, hiding the scars underneath. There was no thought behind those eyes, only an endless hunger. Seeing the flesh in the man's arms, she lunged for him and sank her teeth into the unraveled stomach, tearing it apart and splattering blood across the room.

Young Phoebe didn't flinch as blood splashed over her face. She stared at the kidney her father had given her, rolling it between her hands.

Boso knelt beside the Luxray and stroked her back. "Enjoy your feast, my beloved." He smirked at Phoebe. "Are you going to join her?"

"…" Young Phoebe stared at the kidney blankly before giving it a delicate lick.

"Good girl." He grinned at the Salamence. "And you, my good man?"

He received no response, for he was talking to a freshly deceased corpse. Boso threw his head back and roared with laughter, reveling in the madness around him.

And all Young Phoebe could do…was watch.

"Now Phoebe…" Young Phoebe blinked out of her vacant stare and looked up at her father, who knelt before her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, a look of fatherly comfort on his face. "You know the Outlands is an unforgiveable place, right?"

"…" She nodded.

"You cannot allow anyone to bully you. You have to stay strong. You have to stay ahead of your opponents. Never show fear to the enemy." He patted her bandaged forehead. "Oh, how cruel some people are. A grown adult kicking a defenseless child in the street. What has this world come to?"

"…" Phoebe tilted her head.

"The point of today's lesson is to teach you about satiating those feelings of unjust torment. For that, you will be leading today's exercise." He revealed a bold of rancid chili from between his tails and handed it to her. "Now, what do you know what this is?"

She nodded.

"Good." He stood up and gestured to the dinner table. "Then kindly feed it to our guest—"

"LET ME GO, YOU PSYCHOPATH!" Boso grinned at the Scrafty that was currently tied down to a dining chair. "I already apologized for kicking your damn kid! Now let me go!"

Boso sighed. "First off, I'm not a psychopath. Not medically speaking, at least. Please don't misuse the term. It's an insult to those who actually suffer from psychopathy." He approached and leaned against the dining table. "And second, I can't let you leave. Not until we have some dinner first."

Phoebe jumped onto the table and presented the bowl of chili to the thug. He recoiled from the rancid smell. "For fuck's sake, what is that crap?!"

"Hmm, let's see: chili powder, rosemary, a bit of thyme, your boss, a pinch of lemon—"

"M-M-My WHAT?!" The Scrafty looked back at the bowl, and his face turned pale at the eyeball that rose up from below. "W-W-WHAT?!"

Boso smirked. "He and I had a bit of a disagreement over how you treated my daughter, so I invited him over for drinks to settle the matter. Unfortunately for him, I didn't have any alcohol. He would've appreciated it. He would've been asleep while I was grinding him down."

"W-W-W-W-Wha—"

"Oh, but don't you worry. I made plenty more to fill you up." Boso patted his daughter's head. "Phoebe, feed our guest." Phoebe scooped a spoonful of the chili and approached the Scrafty.

"G-Get that shit away from me, you psycho—HMPH!" Phoebe forcefully jabbed the spoon into his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but Boso placed a knife up to his neck.

"Phoebe helped make this chili. Don't upset her." He leaned against his ear and growled, "Swallow it."

Biting back against his gag reflex, Scrafty reluctantly swallowed the nasty concoction. Phoebe pulled the spoon free and scooped another fill, shoving it into his mouth. He started to look green as he swallowed the next spoonful, shuddering as Boso laughed into his ear.

"Better save room for dessert. Your boss' wife helped with the cake. HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Like any other day, Phoebe was sent out to do the shopping through Skeleton Water's local markets, ran by only the most degenerate of scum across the Outlands. It was no place for a child, hence why one would rarely see a kid her age so deep in the middle of nowhere. The children that did thrive in the Outlands were either heavily protected by their guardians…

Or were worse than the monsters around them.

Despite being surrounded by literal beasts and scum who would skin a child her age alive, no one dared approach the Aipom as she wheeled her wagon of groceries down the street. Her vacant stare didn't break from the path ahead, never acknowledging the faces around her. She heard the gossip of the thugs, but none were said in confidence.

"That's Boso's kid, isn't it?"

"Don't make eye contact. She has fangs like him."

"I've heard the horror stories of what he does to his mate. I almost feel bad for the kid."

"I heard she ripped a man's tongue out with just her teeth."

"You think she's just as bad as Boso?"

"Just don't get on his bad side. Don't even acknowledge his existence."

"Pay no mind to the demons festering our rundown town."

Phoebe stopped and acknowledged the speaker of the final comment. A Shiinotic woman with a smoking pipe stood outside the town's tavern, oblivious to the Aipom's stare. The Fearow with her, however, was frightfully aware of her staring, shaking feathers loose as Phoebe approached them.

The Shiinotic continued her rant, "Everyone fears Boso because they keep giving him power. He's just a monkey. He's no stronger than some of the scum that infest this town. Some degenerate who takes advantage of a Savage Kin's feral mind and using her as his sex toy, then raises some brat while he goes around killing anyone once he gets the urge. He's only as strong as you let him. I could easily kill him."

The Fearow shakily raised his wing. "Y-You might want to stop talk—"

"I don't see why everyone is afraid of his brat. What is she? Eight? She's just a little demon like any other child. A spoiled brat raised to think she's better than everyone. Give her one good kick to the face, and nothing will happen. The only reason Boso gets away with his crap is because everyone believes the illusion he's stronger. He's not. An Aggron can easily crush his skull. The only reason Fighting-Types and the like keep dying to him is because they were too naïve to see the manipulative scumbag he was."

"S-Seriously, shut up!"

"The second he pulls anything like that on me, I'll have him on the floor begging for death. Let's see how he likes it when he's not the one in control—" The Shiinotic paused as someone tugged on her clothes. She turned and glared down at the young Aipom staring up at her, eyes void of emotion and light.

"EEP!" Fearow hid behind the Shiinotic, who just rolled her eyes.

"Oh bother." She knelt in front of Phoebe and smirked. "Did I upset you, sweetie?"

"…"

"I suppose that would require you to feel something. Does the word, love, mean anything to you? Of course not. Love is reserved for normal folk, not demons. But you would know that given who your father is."

"…"

Shiinotic waved her off. "Go on with your shopping, and tell your father that I'm not fooled by his menacing attitude." She brushed her hand across Phoebe's cheek. "Your kind doesn't scare me. Demons who get all their power from fear. I'm not scared for bogeymen—"

SHIIIIN!

Her eyes widened as Phoebe, with zero hesitation, sliced her throat open with a hidden dagger. Shiinotic gasped, clutching around her throat and trying to stave off the bleeding, but Phoebe plunged the dagger into her face and pushed her onto her back.

The thug-filled streets went silent as all eyes fell on Phoebe, who viciously and emotionlessly stabbed into the mushroom face, giving her no chance to scream. She plunged the dagger deeper and deep through the body, tearing open brain matter and ripping apart the mycelium-like veins of the living mushroom. Green blood splattered and formed into a puddle under the body, some of which splashed across Phoebe's face.

After a solid three minutes of stabbing, she stopped. She sat atop the body, ignoring the terrified shivering of the Fearow. Eventually, she stood up and walked back to her wagon, flicking blood off her dagger.

She didn't acknowledge the existence of the other thugs, all too shocked to speak up in response. She carried on with her day, wheeling the wagon back to her home.

No. Not her home.

Back to her cave.

"Isn't that just lovely?"

Phoebe sat atop one of the imaginary rooftops, watching her younger self walk off after committing the grisly murder. Cracked Phoebe hung around her shoulders, snickering at Phoebe's emotionless expression.

"You and I were such a team back then. Why did you push me away? We had free reign of this town, and you want to throw it all away for that puny alchemist?" She smirked. "You are a disgrace to us. Pushing away your bloodlust just for something as menial as happiness? This is happiness. Pure bliss. Existing in our nihilistic joy to slaughter everything, because that's our right."

"…" Phoebe pulled her legs up to her chest, hiding her face against her knees.

"Wouldn't it be so much better if I took the reins? Just let me back into your life, and you'll never feel tormented again."

Meanwhile…

After breaking down another wall through the house, Caractacus and Magni looped around back to take in more of the scenery. It was a startling contrast compared to the inside. The exterior almost seemed like a normal building, or at least as normal as you could get in the Outlands.

Caractacus ran his paw across the wall. "Do you ever think to yourself how far back houses like this were built? What stories does this house tell you? Do you ever ask yourself as a homeowner what wonders and horrors took place before and after you resided here? Because I don't think the previous homeowners before the Outlands ever cropped up would appreciate learning their beautiful home was the site for a butcher shop."

Magni huffed. "Strange thoughts."

"I have the odd thought or two. It helps keep the mind healthy." They rounded the back, finding not much else beyond some trash. Caractacus grunted. "What a way to keep a clean town: dumping everything at one spot. Man, they must've really hated this guy—"

"Look." Magni pointed his horns to something among the trash.

Caractacus approached, repelling the garbage with a quick burst of his Negative Space. Among the trash was an unmarked tombstone, withered yet seemingly recent. Recent by perhaps a decade or two by Caractacus' guess.

He massaged his chin. "Curious. Well, this isn't her father's. I doubt she would take the time to set one up for him even in jest. So, the only logical conclusion?"

Magni glared. "Mother."

"Her mother, yes. Guess there was some love in this twisted family, enough to at least bury her." Caractacus scowled. "Though, based on the way she described her homelife, the chills running up my spine tell me all I need to know about cause of death."

"Monster."

"A monster's doing, yes." Caractacus brushed his paw along the tombstone. "Perhaps this is the source of her misery. Revenge for the only source of affection in her life?"

"I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that." Magni instantly dropped into a feral stance and growled while Caractacus calmly glared over his shoulder. Looping around the corner, Amadeus approached the duo, showing no immediate signs of hostility. "I figured I'd catch someone among your group rummaging through this quaint graveyard."

Caractacus scoffed. "Lord Rimmer, what an unfortunate coincidence. Are you here to haul me away, too? As we've established before, you can't do much to contain me."

Amadeus shook his head. "I am not here for such matters. I figured I could offer some history about this relic of a home."

"How did you even know we were here?"

"An associate of mine has been keeping an eye on your group for quite some time, so he let it slip you two were rummaging through Burkhard's family home."

Caractacus glared. Someone's been following us? I definitely would've noticed something like that. Brushing off his suspicions, he turned his back to the Kricketune and scoffed. "I know enough through basic observation. I don't need your opinion."

"It's more of an anecdote. I actually used to live in this town as a resident, and for quite some time when Ms. Burkhard was a child. I know more about her than you ever could."

Caractacus rolled his eyes. "Fascinating. Why should I care?"

Amadeus glared. "Understand that my role in this duel is as unwelcomed as your own. I am merely following the orders bestowed upon my verbal contract. I never wanted Ms. Burkhard to get involved with all this. She's been through too much."

"Quite the chatterbox, aren't you? Can't seem to shut up even when someone's giving you the cold shoulder." Caractacus sighed and glared over his shoulder. "Then what is this? What's the point in pestering us?"

"…I cannot hold back in our duel. It would be the ungentlemanly way of settling the matter. Instead, I want Ms. Burkhard to know that her friends are counting on her for their safe return. I'm doing far more than expected of me postponing Lancaster's execution, and I would've had Ms. Faucher shipped off by morning. I'm giving you all a chance."

Caractacus scowled. "You're going to let her win without holding back your punches? Do you even hear yourself? Everything you say is an oxymoron of lies, emphasis on moron. Back down? Win? Which is it?"

"…" Amadeus sighed. "I can only offer her my support in our duel."

"If you want to support her so badly, why not just tell me the quickest way to kill you? I'll pass the message along, I assure you."

"Hmph." Amadeus chuckled openly. "I am at least happy to know she made some friends willing to go so far on her behalf."

The hound rolled his eyes. "Ugh, save the pleasantries for some other sap. I'm just traveling with them until I get all I need."

"It always starts out that way…"

Ignoring the cricket's retort, Caractacus focused his attention back on the tombstone. "Burkhard mentioned something about you doing deals with her father. What was that about?"

Amadeus sighed. "That old meeting…" He shook his head. "I never trusted her father, though I was the only one who could openly speak with him without fearing for my life. Unlike most, I was wise to his tricks. He wanted to leave behind a legacy, to prove a point from living so long in the Outlands."

Caractacus raised his brow. "What point?"

"…That no matter how far we progress into society, we're all still wild animals waiting to snap their fangs into our prey."

Nightmare World

Cracked Phoebe caressed Phoebe's cheek, snickering into her ear. "You have suffered long enough with this pointless crusade towards normality. What is so normal about you anymore? You're just another byproduct of the corruption running rampant in the Outlands. You have no place in this world. No one will ever love you, and your pursuit for that longing will leave you with nothing."

"…" Phoebe hugged her legs tighter, tears dripping down her knees.

Cracked Phoebe smirked. "How long until Evelot sees you for the demon you really are? When will she get sick of your killings? When will she realize that you're the reason her life's in danger?"

"…"

"You're a bad influence on her. Eventually, she's going to die, and I'll be laughing when the last thing you see is her sappy, cutesy face being crushed into the earth." She snickered. "Or maybe she'll be soaked in blood. Stabbed to death by her very caretaker."

"…" Phoebe clenched her teeth. "Shut up…"

"I'm you, Phoebe. What I'm saying is the repressed thoughts you've buried beneath your heart. Stop resisting your nature. We weren't restricted by the chains of society. Your father understood that. Stop letting those chains weigh you down. Break free and release the demon that you were meant to be."

"…" Phoebe finally glanced at her distorted self. "…Would the pain really go away if I shook your hand?"

Cracked Phoebe grinned. "Take my hand and see for yourself." She lifted her hand to the Aipom. "Let us indulge in the sweet taste of spilt blood."

Phoebe stared at her hand hesitantly before lifting her own. Doubts creeping through her mind, she sighed with a shudder and motioned to take her distorted self's hand.

"…nightmare plagues bad dreams…"

Phoebe jolted, pulling her hand away and standing up. "Who said that?!"

Cracked Phoebe hissed. "Oh come on!"

They both looked up at the distorted sky and gasped as the clouds split open, revealing a solid blue eye with a pinprick pupil in the center. A spotlight shined across the nightmare realm, passing over the pair before falling upon a warped fog cracking with lightning, yet shined with the warm glow akin to the sun.

Phoebe frowned. "Wha…?"

"Dreamcatcher. Security. Murder house."

Phoebe glared at the stormy memory, hesitant to approach, but shook off her doubts and marched toward it. Cracked Phoebe, annoyed but defeated, followed behind her. They both passed through the storm, entering a long-forgotten memory.

Despite the horrors she was raised on, Young Phoebe was still just that. A child with insecurities and fears, and no one to comfort her from the shadows that crept along her walls.

Except for the only source of comfort allowed in her life.

Phoebe slept soundly against the fur of her mother, who lay curled up on the child's cot. The feral Luxray who was lost to her own savage instincts, more animal than anything, retained one aspect of herself that transcended even savagery. An instinct shared among most creatures, savage or not.

Her motherly instincts.

She comforted the trembling Aipom, licking the blood out of her fur and soothing her to sleep with the purrs rumbling through her body. They shared no words with each other, and they hardly had anything close to a deep bond, yet the Luxray still saw Phoebe as her child. No matter how deep feral instincts ran, a mother's instinct remained as strong.

However, all good things don't last forever.

The door to Phoebe's room swung open, startling her awake. Her mother rose up from the cot, growling as Boso entered. He grinned at his mate, taking hold of the chain connected to her collar and giving it a gentle tug.

"Shall we go for another round, my dear? I want to feel your fangs tearing apart my flesh again." He licked his own fangs. "And I'll be sure to do the same."

The Luxray obediently followed Boso's lead, letting him guide her out the door. He looked back at Phoebe, who stared back with wide eyes filled with fog. He waved to her before closing the door behind him.

Minutes after, the noises started.

Phoebe curled up on her cot and covered her ears as banging and smashing roared from the other room. Biting and clawing, thrashing and crashing. Ferocious growls from both her parents, her father's laughter breaking through the loudest. She clenched her eyes shut, pleading to drown out the horrible sounds. She knew it was inevitable.

The nightmares would come, and tomorrow would be another day of bloodshed. She had become numb to the experience.

So why did it still hurt?

There were some days where a change in your life was so overwhelming and sudden that the only way to process those feelings was to feel nothing.

That was thirteen-year-old Phoebe's mindset as she stared at the grave in the backyard of her house. A nameless grave for a Luxray no one even knew the name of. To her father, her name wasn't even that important. He didn't remember anyone's name. Why should he?

Well…everyone's except Phoebe's.

Still, she wasn't surprised. With the lifestyle her parents led, one of them was eventually going to kill each other. It was just a game that went on even before Phoebe was conceived. Did her mother even know they were playing a game? Her father certainly thought so, but…did he even see her as his equal? Or was she just some plaything?

A loving mate and mother?

Or just some beast he exploited?

Phoebe flinched as her father patted her head. "What a shame. I enjoyed our time together, too. Savage Kin pride themselves on their ties to their ancestry, but it's so rare to find one that goes back that deep to their roots. She was one-of-a-kind. I'll treasure my scars from our fun."

"…" Phoebe closed her eyes.

"But in the end, it seems I was the superior beast." He stroked Phoebe's head. "Pay attention now, my spawn. This is the legacy you must uphold. We are above society. It matters not what rules are implemented. The truest essence of bliss is living the way you desire. To do all on impulse and feel not an ounce of shame for it. There was a time my younger self would've been horrified by my actions, swearing never to become the monster he is today." He laughed quietly. "What innocence those days were."

"…" Phoebe clenched her fists.

"There's no point to anything, so I'm glad I was born in the Outlands. Maybe one day, rules and society will collapse, and we'll be free to live without consequence. Free to act on our wildest impulses. No invisible chains to weigh us down. I hope you learned something from all of this, my spawn. Maybe someday, you'll find yourself a mate to toy around with at your leisure. And maybe you'll leave a greater trail of bodies in your wake than I."

"…"

Boso turned away from the grave and headed back into the house. "I'll be out for a bit. I'll bring home dinner when I get back. I'm thinking seasoned Meganium." He bellowed with laughter before shutting the door behind him.

Alone to her thoughts, Phoebe collapsed onto her knees, staring at the unmarked grave with greater intensity. The only thing in the world that gave her life comfort, and it was taken away from her with the respect of a piece of trash. That was the way of the Outlands. No one's life meant anything. It was those who survived that gave life meaning. It was those who survived that defined purpose. Integrity and hope were useless concepts in a lawless land. And love was just another commodity as fleeting as daylight.

For the first time since her earliest memory, the fog lifted from her eyes. A spark of light ignited within her irises.

A rage stirred beneath her chest.

An animalistic rage.

Phoebe creaked the master bedroom's door open, where her father stood at the foot of the bed sharpening his knives and daggers with a whetstone. Her eyes were shrouded in shadow, daring not to meet her father's gaze. Not yet. She took one step into the room, stepping across the creaky floorboards.

Boso stopped sharpening his knives and smiled over his shoulder. "Hmm? My spawn, what are you doing here? You know you're not allowed in here."

"…"

"Heh." He turned away from her and neatly aligned his collection of weapons along the tattered mattress. "You know, Skeleton Water has been nice, but it's getting a bit too drab around here. Everyone knows who I am, and the game isn't nearly as fun if all the gangs know about me. What's say we take a trip around the Outlands and find ourselves a new home?"

"…" Phoebe took another step forward. She bounced rhythmically on her toes, as if preparing something.

"Lord Kinnaird truly ran this dump to the ground. I'd be amazed if anyone would want to keep him around as lord. Let's do everyone a favor and have our sendoff end with his corpse dangling above the streets. Won't that be grand?"

"…" She stopped bouncing and bent her knees, charging energy around herself.

"By the way, you wouldn't happen to know where my sword is, right? I seem to have misplaced—"

Right as Boso turned around, Phoebe catapulted across the room with the missing sword clutched between her hands. Boso instantly grabbed knives off the bed to stab her, but it was too late. Phoebe slammed into him, throwing them both over the bed, and plunged the sword straight through his heart. They slammed against the backboard of the bed, where the blade impaled and stuck through.

Boso coughed blood, feeling his vision darkening almost instantly. As blood dripped off his chin, he looked down at Phoebe, who finally met his eyes with a cold glare as void as the deepest abyss.

"…Fuck. You."

"…" Boso flashed his reddened teeth in a smirk and snickered. "My spawn finally speaks."

Phoebe let go of the sword, backing away to the front of the bed. Not a hint of remorse flashed in her face, nor a sign of tears from completing her mission in vengeance of her mother. She felt nothing but a toxic rage swirling in her chest that showed no signs of stopping. A gnawing pressure filled her body, pressing down on her throat and skull as she huffed angry breaths.

Boso's laughter grew weaker and weaker. "You're feeling it, aren't you? That animalistic rage we've lost. You're feeling its aftereffects, but you felt it. You felt the euphoria of stalking your prey, d-didn't you?"

"…" Phoebe scowled and spat in his direction. "Die already."

Boso grinned. "Oh Phoebe, my spawn~. I am so…proud of you." His laughter lingered in the room even after his body went limp. Blood dribbled out from the wound and from his mouth. In his place was that smile. A permanent fixture adorning his corpse. The smile of a killer who got what he wanted without consequence.

"…" Phoebe sighed. She turned away, hopped off the bed, and shut the door as she marched out the room. Her skin tingled, feeling the euphoria of the hunt washing away.

She wanted to feel it again.

Meanwhile…

Amadeus shook his head. "Some time after she killed her father, she went on killing sprees left and right. She had an appetite for death she couldn't quench anymore. She was even more ruthless than her father. No methodology to her targets. She would just stalk whoever interest her and kill them. He was prepping her originally to become my apprentice so that I could refine her skills. She was meant to become my assassin to take control over Skeleton Water."

Caractacus glared. "But it never worked out."

"Not as intended. I did eventually corner her to quell that rage, though the damage he did to her was…extensive." Amadeus crossed his arms and sighed. "To see a child lose all sense of reason like that, it's hard to stomach. Children shouldn't have to be raised under these conditions."

"…" Caractacus looked away. "Suppose so."

Amadeus sighed. "I haven't seen the lass in quite some time, though it seems she found better company. Much better company. I've never seen her so determined to preserve a life. Ms. Faucher must mean a lot to her."

Magni glared. "Why fight?"

Caractacus huffed. "The big guy's right. All this effort, and you plan to rip all her progress away just for your contract?"

Amadeus chuckled softly. "Isn't that your philosophy, MacGyver? After all, aren't these acquaintances of yours just contracts?"

"…Well yeah, but—"

"This is still the Outlands. Phoebe needs to learn to quell the demons that fester in her by her own merit. If she's truly set on protecting Ms. Faucher, she needs to figure out who she herself is." He turned and walked away from the duo. "Just as you need to figure out who you yourself are, MacGyver. Why are you going so far to help them? Is it for self-interest? Or…perhaps because you were lonely all those years in Copper Gorge."

Caractacus glared. "I never told you—"

"Think it over. Phoebe's past is now in your arsenal. How will you weaponize it to defeat me?" With that, the Kricketune lord left the duo to stew in their thoughts.

"…" The hound sighed and slapped himself. "Something really screwy is going on around here."

Magni frowned. "How help friend?"

"…" Caractacus sighed. "We've learned all we can here. I can't guarantee a way to shield her, but I can at least figure something out to bypass his defenses." He nodded Magni along. "Let's head back to the carriage. Hopefully Evelot has some Rainbow laying around."

Magni raised his brow. "Plan?"

"The makings of one." He and the Scolipede marched their way out of the dilapidated backyard. "And hopefully a greater understanding to get her out of her depression."