The fires of Scornpeak had since brought devastation that leveled the thriving crime town to ash. Those who fled the flames had watched their fellow backstabbers and thugs burn away in the inferno, their screams echoing across the night sky and haunting the land for weeks to come. Scornpeak's destruction, to most, would've been another example of the anarchy that reigned over the lawless land, thus no one would bother investigating the ruins.

…No one except those who control the Outlands from the shadows.

Marching onto the ash-covered ruins, a middle-aged Hypno looked upon the devastation around him. Following close behind him were a Milotic and Skuntank, taking in the sights with mild intrigue.

"Huh, no wonder Thatcher went silent for a month," Arethusa grumbled. "Someone must've been puffing leaves and forgot to put out their light."

Plouton glared. "The air smells of ash and burnt flesh. What'd I give to replay this night. I could've made a grander fire with the right mixtures."

Cain adjusted his monocle and knelt over the burnt corpse of an Orbeetle. He poked at the still and charred flesh, peeling back the carapace and revealing the rotting flesh hidden underneath. "These fires weren't caused by a lit twig. Most people just throw them on the ground, and fires don't spread easily off the earth."

Arethusa raised her brow. "You saying this was done on purpose?"

"Or the consequence of something else." He stood up and kicked the corpse out of his way. "Thatcher was supposed to get intel on the Faucher girl when I last contacted him. He should've gotten my letter on the day the fire broke out. That's not a coincidence, if you ask me."

Plouton smirked. "She fled the town, then."

"Seems so. She had an assistant with her, too, so she may have been involved with the fire. Or perhaps one of Thatcher's men got a bit too enthusiastic in the ensuing chase." Cain slid his hands into his pockets and stepped over the burnt debris. "Either way, it looks like we've got some escaped convicts to look for. Between the Dukes fleeing capture and this, we'll be looking busy for the next several months."

Arethusa glared. "Don't you have to host a meeting with Terrowin's council in a couple weeks?"

Cain huffed. "Right, his council will be answering their summons in due time. I suppose I can spare the time to investigate the matter myself. That hound of Terrowin's should be able to pick up their scent, though. He's looking into the Dukes' escape as we speak."

Plouton sat on his haunches and crossed his forelegs. "We could always look for the girl. She's the only one who has the recipe for Rainbow, right?"

"Indeed. We'll be running low on our supply eventually. We still need to complete the tests before we complete the modified version."

"You actually plan on releasing it?"

Cain sighed. "Terrowin wants to conquer Virdis as peacefully as allowed, but he knows war is inevitable. Haven't you felt the air stirring in the east? New Chariot will eventually find reason to set their sights on this half of the region. Time is short."

Arethusa scoffed. "So, you know he'll have to forgo the peaceful route and switch to Plan B."

"It's a matter of time. War is inevitable. Peace can't be achieved through pacifism." He stomped on a corpse's head and jumped over a pile of rubble. "That's the foolish idealism that my brother couldn't turn his back on. He had all the natural brilliance while I had to work for my intellect, yet he wasted it on hope. It's like a poison once it seeps into you."

Plouton glared. "Inevitable war, eh? I wouldn't mind a war. I could use some test subjects for my experiments. I can't make improvements to myself without a few sacrifices."

Arethusa chuckled. "Keep your experiments to yourself. I'm only in it to wring out that hope and watch the moment it turns into delightful despair. It's a beautiful sight that I wish I could capture into a portrait in an instant."

Cain continued through the debris, kicking aside anything in his way. He scratched his chin. "Strange, though. How the hell did Thatcher let those two get the best of him? He's not the brightest, but even he can't mess up a simple capture mission. How can that Faucher girl possibly—"

Something caught the corner of the Hypno's eye. He tilted his head and saw a ruined building that looked as if it was bombarded by a hail of gunfire. He saw something flattened on top of the wreckage: the corpse of a Carnivine punctured with holes.

"Well, well, well." Cain walked onto the ruined building and knelt over the flycatcher's corpse. "Thatcher, there you are. I was wondering if you could tell me why you failed to carry out my orders. Don't tell me you let a defenseless alchemist do this to you?"

He narrowed his eyes, noticing something sparkling gently in the sun off Thatcher's body. He ran his finger over his charred skin and blood and inspected the grainy material. He sniffed it a couple times, then licked his finger clean. He smacked his lips together, sifting through the mix of plant, charred skin, and dried blood to find the grainy substance.

"…Sand."

Plouton walked over to the wreckage. "I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if there was sand here. We're in the middle of a desert."

"…" Cain stood up and walked onto the main street. He crouched down, dug his finger through the ash until he found solid ground, and scooped some of the dirt onto his finger. He stuck it into his mouth and tasted the minerals.

Arethusa shuddered. "What is wrong with you? Someone could've defecated there like an uncivilized freak!"

He ignored her distress and finished tasting the dirt. "…That wasn't normal sand on Thatcher's body."

Plouton tilted his head. "Eh?"

"The sand and dirt taste different. Too different. Thatcher was killed by a Ground-Type, or a Pokémon that has an affinity for sand."

Arethusa glared. "Sand?"

"…" Cain scratched his chin. "The wind was blowing in the western direction that day, wasn't it? If someone were to catch the right draft…"

"Sir?" Plouton called out.

"…" Cain smirked. "It seems almost impossible, but it would explain how those two managed to escape Thatcher so easily." He chuckled, rising back up. "Looks like one of our escaped convicts is harder to kill than I gave him credit for. Change of plans, then."

"Change in plans?"

"I've got an assignment for you two. I'm putting you in charge of the manhunt for the Faucher girl. Kill anyone else associated with her unless they prove to be useful alive."

Arethusa glared. "How do we go about tracking her?"

"That's where you come in, actually. I'm not having you go about this assignment alone." He smirked over his shoulder. "You two will be put in charge…of leading my hired task force: the Deadly Seven."

The dawn of the morning light peeked over the open plains of the Outlands. Amongst the sea of sand, rock, and desertion lay a small mountain where a cave entrance sat at the front. The morning light glowed over the dark entrance, illuminating the inside and the occupants within.

Peeking out from the cave, Phoebe scanned the immediate surroundings for signs of early morning raiders scouting for easy targets.

"…" She stepped back inside the cave and whistled. "Alright, all clear."

Amos stepped out of the shadows, adjusting his new pair of shades. The tinted black glass was shoddily made, its edges jagged and chipped, while the hooks of the glasses lay awkwardly over his ears. He grumbled as he fiddled with them. "Did you have to steal the worst fucking piece of junk for me?"

Phoebe smirked. "You wanted something to keep the sun out of your eyes, you get what you deserve."

"I think I'd be better off wearing a blindfold again."

She scoffed. "Yeah, like we need you throwing sand in our eyes just to make yourself useful."

Amos suppressed his growl before glaring over his shoulder. "Oi, hurry up! We don't have all day!"

A slithering mass of darkness slithered across the cave and concealed itself behind a discarded, ragged Pikachu costume. It twitched to life, rising to full height. Once fully fitted, Evelot shuffled toward her party. "S-Sorry. I was just finished cleaning up."

"You got all your stuff?"

She patted the top of her costume. "Everything's stored away for later, yes."

He grunted, then pointed out the cave entrance. "Then we move." He glared at Phoebe. "You've got the map, right?"

She pulled out her map and smirked. "Course I do. We'll be on our way to Crimehallow in no time. After we get there, we can plot our next move."

Amos nodded. "Good, then let's get moving. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can kill that bastard Hypno."

Phoebe laughed. "Let the adventure commence!"

The unlikely trio stepped toward the morning light, setting one foot out the cave entrance as the road to their perilous quest opened before them. Nothing would stop their journey!

12th Winter Moon, 907

"God dammit, bitch! Where the fuck are we?!"

The Broken Glass Alchemical Company, with their sights set on Crimehallow, ran into a slight snag that greatly extended their journey beyond what they intended. Between passing by the occasional trading post to restock their supplies and begrudgingly asking for directions, it became clear as to what had transpired.

…They were lost. Horribly, horribly lost.

Amos sneered over the Aipom's shoulder. "Do you even know how to read a fucking map?!"

Phoebe shielded her reddened face behind the map, pretending to plot out their path to Crimehallow. "Of course I know how to read a map! We're just…taking a detour, that's all."

"We've walking in circles for a month!"

"No, we haven't. You're just imagining things."

Amos stopped and pointed to a large tree covered in bloodstains and ragged clothes hanging off the branches. "We've passed that same stupid tree ten times this month!"

"That could be any ol' bloody tree—"

"Give me the map!" He lunged at her, trying to take the map away.

She held it out of his reach, kicking her foot against his face. "I'm not trusting the asshole who can't fucking see straight!"

"I'm light sensitive, not drunk! Though, you might be the drunk one with how many circles you've led us down!"

"You callin' me a bitch with all the bitchin' you do?!"

"You've got something to say?!"

"Want me to start with the A's?!"

Evelot kept her distance behind the duo, awkwardly watching them flail at each other while trying to seize possession of the map. She didn't have the heart to tell Phoebe that they had indeed gotten lost in the last month, though she didn't want to rile her up by giving Amos more incentive to yell at her. She passively watched them, hoping they would come to some sort of resolution in the near future.

Though, there's a reason the saying isn't sixty-fourth time's the charm…

"Ph-Pheebs? Ammo?" she mumbled.

"WHAT?!" they snapped.

She yelped, bundling herself deep inside her costume. "Uh, I…uh, I was just thinking maybe we should stop by another trading post and restock. There should be one an hour or two from here."

Phoebe glared. "How do you know that?"

Amos snarled. "Because unlike you, she can remember what direction we're going! It's the same fucking one we went to three days ago!"

"I knew that!"

"You admit you led us in circles?!"

"I'm following the map just fine!"

"I'd fucking bet my life on that being a goddamn lie!"

"Oh, like you wouldn't lead us into a ravine with your shit eyesight! The second I give you the map, you'll lead us into a den of savages!"

"At least I'd have you to use as bait when I escape!"

"I suppose they would want my ass over that gristle you call muscle!"

"I will literally shoot you for that!"

"Do it, bitch!"

Evelot turned away, hiding her stream of tears. I shouldn't have said anything!

Year 895 – The Unlawful World of Wick

"Don't try anything if you know what's good for ya!"

In the town of Silverhollow, much like most of the Wick Kingdom, crime was a rampant part of life. Even with the best of the Wick Knighthood aiming to protect its people, those who slithered in the dark found their way through their watchful gaze to commit to their criminal deeds.

The bank of Silverhollow, going out its daily routines as usual, found itself being held hostage by an irate Weezing. Gas poured out from his body, spreading among the enclosed space and collapsing the employees and patrons in its noxious fumes. The gas seemed to be enveloping everyone like bindings, linking them back to Weezing.

He floated over to the barely conscious Torkoal running the front counter, growling in his face. "Listen up, you're going to withdraw all the money you've got and hand it over. Fail to comply, and everyone in this bank will feel the sting of my Chained Suicide Bomb. Every single person here will feel the effects of my Explosion, but only I'm guaranteed to survive in the end. Got that?"

The Torkoal coughed and sputtered, his vision fading as he breathed in more of the gas. "I-I c-can't…"

"EH?!" Weezing leaned in closer. "What's that?! I could've sworn you said something about not saving your skin! Is the money here more important than your life? HUH?!"

Torkoal sputtered again, his head collapsing on the counter. "C-Can't…breathe."

"You're wasting my time!" Weezing growled. "Hand over my money, now—"

"You ain't bright, are you?"

Weezing spun around with a start, glaring at the bank entrance to find one individual harmlessly standing within the infected air. It was a Gligar, dressed in a dusty brown poncho and a wide-rimmed hat covering his eyes. He gnawed on a toothpick held between his teeth, breathing in the toxic air with no trouble.

"Pardon me?!" Weezing yelled.

The Gligar smirked and straightened up. "My apologies. It's just…you can't possibly be this stupid. You do realize the man's barely staying conscious, right? What's the matter? Can grab the money yourself—oh, right. My bad."

Weezing snarled. "Who do you think you are?!"

He tipped his hat to the criminal. "Just a rookie mercenary passing by. I couldn't help but be drawn to the stench of poison." He lifted his hat and glared at the living ball of pollution. "So, how about it? Think you can tango with me?"

Weezing growled. "You think you can waltz your way in here and call the shots?!" He expelled more gas into the bank, wrapping the interior in an impenetrable blanket of smog that enclosed upon all where the light touched. "Do you know who I am?! I am the man who will be recognized as the greatest criminal mastermind to ever live! I am without equal! I am without limits! I am death itself! I am Big Bang Martin—"

"Guillotine."

The toxic criminal couldn't even blink in time as the Gligar kicked off into the air and rushed past him with pincers glowing in azure light. Without delay, he brought the pincers down, delivering an X-shaped strike that erupted around the Weezing in a mighty explosion of energy that rent the air with his agonizing screams.

The mercenary landed into a smooth kneeling position. Upon waving his claws free of the lingering aura wafting off them, the defeated Weezing collapsed from the air and onto the floor with a blackened X-shaped scar across his face.

"Annnnd you're the one who doesn't know when to shut up," the mercenary grumbled. He massaged his neck, cracking a few bones. "Well, that was disappointingly easy. Oh well. Sandstorm."

With a flick of his pincer, sand poured out around him and flooded the bank. It sucked up the toxic gas and funneled it out the main entrance, harmlessly scattering into the sky. As the last of the gas filtered out, the mercenary grabbed the defeated Weezing and dragged him out the door.

The patrons were coming to their senses as fresh air returned to them. The Torkoal bank teller coughed and sputtered as he got his second wind, then looked upon the exiting Gligar in awe. "You! Stranger!"

The Gilgar stopped and looked back. "Hmm?"

"What is the name of our savior? Who are you?"

"…" He smirked, tipping his hat to everyone. "No need to thank me. Just a rookie mercenary passing by. Remember my name as…Amos the Sand Devil."

After Amos and Phoebe exhausted themselves from their endless string of insults, the trio focused on their current path to the nearby trading post where thugs unaffiliated with gangs or looking to make a bountiful trade in secret met. The trading posts were one of many ways for criminals to maintain some degree of order in such a lawless land. If someone had something you needed, better to make friends than enemies.

Amos adjusted his shades, peering through the new faces manning the booths. "Good grief, do we even have anything to trade this time?"

Evelot dug inside her costume and procured a cloth sack that was stained red. "Uh, I have this."

"…What is that?"

"Remember those guys that tried to jump us two weeks ago?"

"…Those are their organs, aren't they?"

She whimpered. "I figured we could trade this to any savages looking for a bite."

"…" Amos slapped himself and groaned. "Well, hopefully there's a savage vendor who has something we need. All I've got is broken bullets and daggers."

Phoebe reached inside her bag and procured a notebook. "And all I have is my collection of insults."

"Ah good, even more useless garbage."

She rolled her eyes. "You collect scrap. I collect dirt. The good dirt." She dropped her notebook back in her bag. "What we really need is an easier way to get around the Outlands. With winter approaching, we'll be expecting bad snowstorms soon. We won't make much distance if we're up to our chins in snow."

"Well, maybe if someone knew how to read a map—"

She leaned in against his face with an irritated grin. "You've got something to say, wise guy?"

"C-Can we please peruse the trading post?" Evelot mumbled.

The bitter enemies shot one last glare at each other before huffing. "Fiiiiine."

Evelot sighed and led the way forward. "Come on. I'm sure we'll find something useful to aid in our trip."

"So, you looking for a means to travel through heavy snow, ares ya~? Well, I've got just the thing for you!" The Magmar salesman produced three large, wooly coats from under his booth. "These genuine coats were made with the finest Mamoswine fur, which I will not disclose the procedure of acquiring!"

Amos and Phoebe looked at the jackets with unimpressed glares. They immediately noticed the jackets were five times their height. "Do you have anything…smaller?" Amos grumbled.

"Smaller, youse says?" The Magmar tossed aside the jackets and produced three smaller coats. "We have children sized!"

Phoebe's brow narrowed deeper. "Why do those have bloodstains on them?"

"…" The salesman looked at the coats and the red splotches splattered across the front. "Oh, that's from the Mamoswine who tried to gut me after I skinned his cousin. Nasty business. So, how about it?"

Amos and Phoebe shared a look with each other. "…We could always just clean them," she grumbled.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll take them."

"Excellent!" The Magmar set the coats down and greedily rubbed his hands together. "And what do you have to trade for them?"

Amos aimed his gun arm. "Your life."

"You have a deal!"

Evelot looked unsurely at the snowshoes in front of her. "Um, I don't exactly have…feet. Do you have something else that would help someone like me get around on the snow?"

The Ivysaur salesman rubbed his chin. "Hmmm, something more your speed, eh? Ah, I got ya!" He reached behind his booth and pulled out a sled. "Here, you can use this!"

Evelot blinked at it. "…H-How would I be able to move?"

"You just need a little push, and you'll be gliding across the snow like an Eiscue!"

"B-But what if I stop?"

"Then you do it again!"

"…And what if I stop again—"

Ivysaur glared at her. "Kid, I'm a salesman, not a miracle worker. Figure it out for yourself!"

"…I'm twenty-four."

"I didn't ask. Now, are you going to take it or what?"

"…" Evelot pulled out her cloth sack. "Will you accept a harvested organ?"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…Wow, my wife's going to be happy when she sees this. You got a deal!"

Phoebe sat on a crate, doodling inside her notebook. "Alright, we've got coats, snowshoes, and…one barrel of ale."

Amos patted the barrel with a smug grin. "I can't believe I got this for all that scrap metal! HA!"

She rolled her eyes. "I will never understand Steel-Types and their diets."

Evelot finished storing the coats and snowshoes under her costume. "Step back, please." She jumped into the air, expanding her costume, and swallowed up the barrel. After shifting it around inside, her costume absorbed the barrel and deflated back to normal size. "Okay, all packed away."

Phoebe glared. "Still, even with this stuff, it'll take us forever to get to Copper Gorge from here. We'd need transportation."

Amos looked around. "Doesn't look like anyone's selling themselves for a road trip across the Outlands." He groaned and slapped himself. "Guess we have no choice but to make the trip on foot."

Evelot shuddered. "That could take forever."

Phoebe waved it off. "Oh relax, we'll get to Crimehallow before your feet freeze over."

Amos glared. "With your shitty sense of direction?"

Phoebe shot an irritated smirk at him. "I can read maps just fine."

Evelot groaned. Not again. She raised her hand, ready to stop their fighting when something caught her attention. She heard a commotion stirring deeper within the trade post. "Huh?" She looked behind herself and saw criminals gathering around a booth, likely enticed by some peculiar wares. "What's going on over there?"

Amos and Phoebe (both literally grabbing each other by the throat) ceased their bickering and took notice of the audience gathering nearby. "The hell could they be selling to drum up that much business?" Amos asked.

"I have no idea," Phoebe grumbled.

The trio walked up to the crowd, pushing their way to the front. Upon reaching the booth, they found a female Drizzile in a red cloak and green tunic presenting a fine collection of firearms to the excited criminals. Everything from revolvers, rifles, and even guns that the trio had never seen before.

"That's right, my fellow rotten scoundrels of the Outlands! You, too, can be the proud owner of these genuine firearms crafted by the finest of the Senbo Kingdom. Note the sleek designs for top tier handling, the sheen of a well-kept barrel, that smell of gunpowder it wafts! Guaranteed to instantly silence your foes with a single bullet to the skull!"

She picked up a revolver and fired over the crowds' heads, getting a direct shot on a booth sign that fell to the ground. She spun the revolver, blew on the barrel, and pocketed it.

"So, who wants to trade?" she asked.

The criminals roared with excitement, reaching out with their trades at the ready.

"I've got some old slippers!"

"Does this quill work?"

"I have a bottle of rusty alcohol!"

"I'll trade ya my grandson!"

"Grandma, WHY?!"

"BECAUSE YER SORRY ASS IS MORE USELESS THAN YER GRANDPA, AND HE'S DEAD!"

The merchant laughed. "Please, please! Let's not be so hasty! There are plenty of firearms to go around!" She picked up rifles and threw them into the crowd, causing the thugs to scatter and fight each other for the weapons. "Whoever gets the guns first will also receive a free box of ammo! Play nice!"

The alchemical company watched as chaos broke out over the crowd, everyone punching each other out and trying to wrestle the guns back. Phoebe watched two brutes knock each other's teeth out, one even using the butt of the gun to break the other's jaw. She smirked. "I like this chick's style."

The merchant knelt down and grinned at the trio. "What will it be, folks? Got anything worth selling?"

Amos glared. "We've got plenty."

"You sure?" She picked up an eight-barreled revolver with a hand crank. "I've got this beauty for sale, too. Once you start cranking it, it'll—"

"AH!" Amos, and Phoebe jumped as Evelot pointed at the merchant in alarm. "W-Wait a minute! I know you! You're…You're that merchant girl who harassed me last year!"

"Eh?!" her friends gasped.

"I recognize those eyes anywhere!"

Amos and Phoebe looked at the Drizzile again and realized that her eyes were unusually shaped. The pupils were shaped like a five-pointed star, and they spun with delight at the merchant studied the shocked Mimikyu's reaction.

Eventually, the merchant smirked. "Well damn, how lucky can I get. I've been looking all over for you, Faucher."

"…" Phoebe's eyes widened. "Wait a minute! Don't tell me you're that…!"

The merchant jumped off the booth and bowed to the group. "And a fine hello to you, too, Burkhard. It's been a while."

Amos glared. "Who the hell are you?"

The starry-eyed merchant laughed. "I go by many names on the road, but you can just refer to me…as JoJo."

"So, you came all the way out here to sell fake guns?"

JoJo (who had transformed into a Sableye) finished sifting through her loot before throwing it into her bag. "Well, not completely, but I needed some extra food for the journey. Whenever there's a sale that needs to be made, JoJo's there to take advantage of a sucker."

Evelot groaned. "You haven't changed a bit…"

JoJo laughed. "Naturally!"

Amos raised his brow. "You are a peculiar creature. I've never met a Pokémon who can change their form so freely."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised. I'm not from this region, so I doubt you've seen anything like me." She smirked. "I'm one-of-a-kind!"

Phoebe sighed. "Well, we've already established why you're at the trading post, but maybe you can explain to us why you came all the way out here. I would think you did your best to avoid the Outlands after your last visit."

JoJo waved it off. "Please, as if anything would keep me from coming back. Where else am I going to find suckers to scam?" She scratched her chin. "Well, aside from the rich. Just wave anything in their faces and call it exotic, they'll start throwing money at you. Works all the time." She waved her hand around. "Now, as for why I'm in the Outlands now, I'm actually doing a job."

Phoebe raised her brow. "A job?"

"I got picked up by some new business partners after my last ones…well, got carted off to jail after an ambush. Always got to stick with the winning side, I always say, or at least who pays the best." She shook her head. "Point is, I got hired to pick up some stuff for my newest client. She's making some fancy weapon for a pal of mine, and she needs top tier material to make it. The finest quality stuff money can buy."

Phoebe scoffed. "Finding anything high quality in the Outlands? Most valuable thing you'll find is a cactus with a hat stuck to it."

JoJo smirked. "On the contrary, there's quite a goldmine to dig through in these here lands, or should I say elementium mine?"

Amos' eyes widened. "Huh?"

She snickered. "I'm looking for the Wick Kingdom's remote prison, the one where they keep their most dangerous criminals. They're said to be sitting on top of an elementium mine where the warden has the prisoners harvest the veins for pure chunks of elementium. Can you imagine that?"

"…" Amos looked away. "Can't imagine."

"If I can get my hands on that stuff, I'll be swimming in profits!" JoJo threw her head back and laughed. "There was even a prison break that took place a couple months ago, so those idiots running the place are probably disorganized! It'll be a cinch to steal!"

Phoebe glanced warily at Amos before glaring at JoJo. "Okay, that explains that, but you said something about looking for Evelot."

Evelot trembled. "Uh, yeah. What was that about?"

JoJo hopped forward, transforming into a Sneasel. "Thing is, I also promised my client I'd get her a special something-something to go along with her project. She hasn't quite figured out all the details yet, but she's heard the rumors of a special potion that binds elemental energy to weapons infused with elementium."

Evelot quivered. "Oh no…"

"Ssssooooo…" JoJo smirked. "Can I have some of the potion?"

Evelot gently pushed her away. "L-Listen JoJo, I'm glad to see you again, but I can't just hand that stuff out. It's incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands." She nervously tapped her fingers together. "Besides, we're not exactly in the best situation ourselves."

JoJo raised her brow. "Huh. Come to think of it, what are you doing at a trading post in the first place?"

Amos rolled his eyes. "It's a long story, and it's none of your business."

"Ooh, spicy."

Phoebe elbowed the Gligar's ribcage before explaining, "We…kind of got evicted from Scornpeak, so we're on the run. We're actually trying to get to Copper Gorge to find a talented inventor named Caractacus MacGyver."

JoJo frowned. "MacGyver?"

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just…huh." She scratched her chin. "I feel like I've heard that name before. Hmm…" She shrugged. "Oh, whatever. So, you're looking for this guy?"

Phoebe nodded. "We need him to fix up this useless string bean's arm and tail before we get moving on our quest. Of course, we've been having a little trouble getting there—"

"Because someone can't read a fucking map," Amos grumbled.

"You're not even trying to be subtle about that!"

JoJo glared. "Huh, yeah, that might be a problem. The snow's going to get worse out here the further you head into the Outlands. No way you can walk to Copper Gorge."

Amos scoffed. "Great. Just great."

"…" JoJo looked off to the side. "However—"

"Hmm?" the trio huffed.

"I do know of a trading post nearby that could solve your transportation woes. You'd be able to find the best steed to carry you across the Outlands and ride out the snow with zero trouble."

Phoebe glared. "I've never heard of such a thing."

JoJo snickered. "You have to have a merchant's intuition to know these things. It's a talent."

Amos crossed his arms. "Well, how do we get there?"

"Ohhhhh, yeah. See…oh darn, it's just…" JoJo turned her back to them, sighing dramatically. "It's such a shame, but I appear to have forgotten where the trading post is. Oh, if only something could jog my memory, like say…" She smirked over her shoulder. "Making a deal."

Eyes immediately fell onto Evelot, who trembled back upon catching onto the shapeshifter's intent. "You're kidding me, right?"

JoJo wagged her finger. "Information doesn't come cheap. What kind of business do you think I'm running?" She smirked. "I'd say it's a fair deal. You give me the formula to your potion, and I'll guide you to the trading post and acquire you a steed."

"You're so cruel…"

The shapeshifter spun and transformed into a Tinkatuff. "Business isn't about fairness, dear. It's about exploiting the wants and needs of the people to make the most profit possible. I'm giving you a satisfying deal, though. Not many are as generous as I."

Phoebe growled. "You swindling little—"

"You can yell at me all you want, but there's literally nothing you can do to threaten me." She smirked. "You could vent your anger and shoot me, but much like my moral compass, it'll be useless."

Amos aimed his gun arm at her. "I'm willing to take that bet—" However, Evelot placed her hand on his arm and lowered it. "Hmm?"

"…" Evelot sighed. "I can't give you the formula, but…" She pulled out a vial of Rainbow from her costume. "I'll give you two of these. One up front, the other if you help us get transportation through the Outlands. Is that a fair enough deal?"

JoJo grinned. "Looks like you've got some business sense after all, my little friend." She snatched the vial out of her hand. "You got yourself a deal." She absorbed the vial into her body, then dusted her hands off. "Well then, looks like we've got places to be. Follow me, my lovely clients!" She turned and marched along her way.

The alchemical company looked at each other, shrugged, and followed behind the merchant. "You better not be tricking us," Phoebe grumbled.

JoJo waved her off. "Once a deal is made, I must honor my contract, whether written or verbal. That's how you keep your customers around…until they hunt you down with pitchforks for selling you faulty guns, which I'm sure these rubes will figure out in another twenty minutes—"

BANG! BOOM!

"AH! My FUCKING hand!"

JoJo smirked. "Ooh, I was way off."

Amos rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. So, where exactly are we getting our transportation from? Are there Pokémon selling themselves as steeds?"

"Oh no, just the opposite, actually." She grinned over her shoulder. "We're going to an Outlands slave auction."