It was early morning when Drim and Phon stepped off the train they’d been riding all night. The transport had taken them from Prosper to Constead, the capital city of Domister, the country directly east of Horage. Constead wasn’t a hub city. With nothing else to call it, the city was nothing but the definition of normal.
The Drazahs, during their conquest, had conquered countries from east to west across the continent. After a country was taken over, it would take a while before the new government would take hold. Domister was one of the countries that had surrendered without a fight, but the new government, as with several of the other far western countries, never had a chance to be fully implemented before the Drazah empire collapsed. So for the country, its cities and towns, and its citizens, it was like the takeover had never happened.
Drim stretched as his sister placed her hand above her eyes to block the morning sun. It wasn’t particularly bright, but it still bothered her. “Ugh, it’s gonna take some time to get used to seeing again with my actual eyes,” the girl groaned before pulling the rim of her cap down to help dim the light.
Phon followed her brother as he led onwards through the city. After a few minutes of walking, and a few seconds of sudden silence, he turned to her and said, “Thank you for last night. Doing basically all of the talking I mean. I guess I’m just not quite ready to give a big performance like that in front of so many people. I’ve spent so many years now barely speaking, it’s still a bit rough to do so in front of strangers.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Phon responded with a gentle smile. “Everyone has their strengths and things they’re not great at. You did plenty, and with the way you silenced that crowd, I’m guessing you’ll get better in no time.” They continued on, but the longer they walked, the less enthused Phon got since they were getting further and further away from the ‘nice’ part of town. When they got to their destination, she kept looking back and forth between Drim and the door. She was slightly shocked and couldn’t stop herself from grumbling, “This is where we’re staying?! I know we need to save money and all, but still!”
The siblings were standing on the second level walkway for a rundown apartment complex near the outskirts of the city. Phon looked at the door again. ‘207’ was posted on it in metal letters, but the screw for the top part of the 0 was missing and the piece was hanging upside down. “When we got here, I was hoping it was a joke or that you were just using it for storage… Oh well, I’m just happy we’re going to be living together again!” the sister beamed with a newfound excitement.
There were several packages already waiting for them outside the door. It was Phon’s belongings that she had express shipped overnight once she knew the address. They carried them inside as Phon looked around. She had already taken a quick look with her vision, but she sighed again at how boring, empty, and small the inside was.
The apartment really was tiny even by modern standards. There was a living room with about enough space for a couch and entertainment center but not much else. The kitchen had all the essentials, but looked like only one person could use it at a time without tripping over each other. The bathroom was surprisingly large, but it doubled as the laundry room so any extra space had been lost.
There were two bedrooms that connected directly to the living room. In each, there was already a twin-sized bed and a small nightstand next to it with a lamp on it. They also had a dresser squeezed into the small crack between the bed and the wall. That was all, but that was all that could fit, and it left just enough room to stand awkwardly and change clothes.
Fortunately, neither of the Drazah siblings had many possessions. Drim had already moved in before he went to Prosper. Despite his usual combat equipment that he was currently wearing, his other belongings didn’t even take up half his dresser. Phon had a lot more, but it was still quite low compared to the average person. Since they both traveled a lot over the past few years, they kept what they owned to a minimum. The young woman had even stopped collecting yo-yos since they were a hassle to transport.
It didn’t take long to get all of their things unpacked, but they were still missing much that they’d need for everyday life. The brother had suggested they go shopping, but the sister insisted that they get the TV working as soon as possible. By the time she got it all set up, it was [485], shortly approaching the [500] noon broadcast Phon had mentioned the night before to the crowd they’d traumatized.
She switched the channel over to Prosper City News. Even though most local networks weren’t seen worldwide, PCN was special since it also served as the Central Peace’s main line of communication with the public. The news anchor, Corein Gedring, was interviewing a college professor when they started watching.
They didn’t catch his name since they’d tuned in halfway through, but the subtitle ‘Drazah War Expert’ was posted beneath him. Neither of the siblings were expecting this, so they listened intently to the man who seemed quite happy that someone was taking an interest in his ramblings.
“I have been studying the Drazahs for quite a long time now. You could almost say I am the world’s leading expert,” the man on the screen proclaimed. “And I believe that it is highly probable that the people known as The Vixen and The Slayer are indeed the children of Eleen and Relyk Drazah.”
Gedring then followed up with seemingly authentic curiosity, “How could that be, though? It is widely accepted that they both perished along with their parents in the fire. And even if they were alive, how or why would they have hidden themselves for so long?”
“Hmm, well it is possible I could get in some trouble for saying this,” the professor briefly took off his glasses to clean them. “But to go along in the spirit of the two last night, I believe that it is best to get everything out in the open. While it is believed that the children died that night, their corpses were never actually found. Every single servant under their employ was questioned, but neither they nor any of the guards posted that night had seen them leave. So it was believed they were among the debris and ashes.”
“Also, the bodies of Eleen and Relyk, were in positions that did not indicate they were trying to escape a fire or died in their sleep. This definitely does corroborate the idea that they were murdered. Of course, none of this proves that the two claiming to be Drim and Phon Drazah are actually legitimate, but they definitely covered their bases there.”
“I spent all night studying the footage,” the man continued before yawning after likely remembering how tired he was. “The jacket that they showed off certainly appeared authentic. The stitchwork and materials matched the records perfectly. The medals are the true indicator, though. Each one was handcrafted by a different artisan. It would take great lengths and money to replicate them so accurately.”
“The way Drim spoke and Phon’s appearance are also clear indicators. Both seem highly improbable without Drazah blood running through them. Either these two are the real deal or they have gone to extreme lengths to make it appear that way. As for why they would have hid, that is obvious, and it is likely the same reason they killed their parents if they are to be believed. The Drazahs were universally hated, and everyone wanted all of them wiped off the world, innocent children or not.”
“Thank you for such deep insight,” the anchor responded. “What about what they said regarding Fiends? Do you think they were honest, or do you believe it was just a scare tactic in a grab for power?”
“Unfortunately, this is not my area of expertise,” the man replied remorsefully. “I don’t know much about Fiends, but have heard some rumors. However, I believe the feats they demonstrated last night speak for themselves. No normal human could have done that. As for why they chose those specific actions last night, I can’t be sure. I would really love the opportunity to sit down and speak with them given the chance, to get to the root of what makes them tick.”
“Ohoho, sorry buddy, that honor has already gone to someone else,” Phon smirked devilishly. “And they should be on any minute now…”
Gedring and the guest continued to talk for a few minutes. Then just as she was thanking him for coming, a man came rushing into the studio, screaming wildly, “Play the tape, play it right now!”
The anchor spun towards the man and gasped. It was clear that he hadn’t showered in days, and his clothes were in shambles. “Clint, is that you?! Oh Cosmos, what happened to you?” Gedring questioned worriedly.
It was Clint Crihound, the co-anchor for CPN who had been missing for the past several days. He slammed his hands down on the news desk and yelled. “You don’t get it! We have to play it now or that crazy Draz will kill me!” Seemingly unsure of what to say, Gedring just nodded. A few seconds later, the feed cut to a video with quality reminiscent of a cheap handheld camera. Crihound appeared on screen in a dingy basement tied to a chair.
◆◆◆
Clint Crihound found himself waking up in a daze. It took a few seconds of looking around and several more of blinking to fully realize that he had not woken up in his bed. The groggy man did a quick survey of his surroundings. Based on the boarded up window that was right at ceiling level and the concrete floor, he guessed he was in a basement, but couldn’t see any stairs leading out of it.
He thought back to the last thing he could remember. Yesterday was Boon Day, after the nightly broadcast, the studio staff had a party. It was mildly boring, but I had a few drinks and had a decent time. Then I left and… Nothing. That’s all I can remember. Assuming that he hadn’t been unconscious for several days, he guessed that it was Nonovber 34th; the day after Boon Day and the day before New Year’s Eve.
He tried to move, but it was no use. The captured man was tied with chains at his waist and ankles, but only by zip-ties at his wrists. There was a chair opposite him in the room facing his direction, but it was empty. He wondered if this meant that there was or would be someone else held there with him. “Hello! Is anyone there?! I need help!” he yelled, a little in every direction, not knowing which way ears would be.
“You called?” A masked woman suddenly appeared in the previously empty seat. There was no wind, no whooshing sound, no bright light of energy to teleport her there. She was just suddenly there. One moment the seat was empty, and the next it was occupied.
“Who are you? How did you… OW!” Before Crihound could ask any more questions, the masked woman kicked him in the shin.
“Please refrain from asking stupid questions, Mr. Crihound. This will go a lot quicker if you don’t. I assure you that everything you want to know will be answered in good time,” the woman said with little expression.
“So you know who I am, then why did you kidnap me? I’m extremely famous, you won’t get… OW!” the newsman was kicked again.
“You’re not a quick learner, are you?” the ‘kidnapper’ chided him. “And I did not kidnap you. I’m sure you know who I am, yes?”
Crihound was a little out of it from everything that had happened, but he took the time to really focus on her now. “You’re The Vivacious Vixen, the world’s most renowned bounty hunter. I’ve given several reports on you.”
Phon had twitched a little when he said the alliteration, but swiftly recomposed herself for her response. “Yes, and do you know how many people would absolutely love to have an interview with me? So that’s what this is, an exclusive interview where I will answer so many questions. It’s fine if you don’t remember agreeing to it, you were quite drunk at the time.”
Crihound had absolutely no memory of agreeing to anything, but he couldn’t deny that it would be something he would actually agree to. The Vixen was well known but had turned down any and all attempts by anyone to interview her in the past. This could definitely be a good opportunity, one that had the potential to boost his career.
“Okay, an interview then. I don’t really get why I need to be tied up for it, but I’ll let that be for now,” the newsman said with a newfound enthusiasm despite his situation. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any questions prepared, nor do I have anything to take notes with.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Phon said as she stood up. She took a step over to him, pulled a knife from her pocket, and cut his wrist restraints. The masked woman then pulled a piece of paper from one of her sleeves and handed it to him. It had a few prewritten questions on it. “As for the notes, that won’t be an issue either. This is all being recorded,” she said as she pointed to a camera with a red light, mounted near a wall that he had failed to notice.
The Vixen sat back down before giving him any time to read the questions and directed, “Well, let’s begin then. Please read each prewritten question, and don’t try to deviate. If you ask stupid things like ‘Where am I?’ and ‘Are you a crazy person?’, I’ll just kick you again.”
Crihound took a moment to finger-comb his hair and straighten up his clothes. Even if it was just a crappy camera and these were strange circumstances, he wanted to look his best whenever he was recorded. “Alright, first question then,” he started, having adapted a more professional tone. “Who are you....? Excuse me, didn't you just kick me for asking that, and I know who you are, you’re The Vivacious… OWWW!”
“Bad Doggy!” Phon scolded him as she kicked him twice, playing into his name to demean him. “And that question is referring to who I actually am. Jeez, aren’t reporters supposed to want the fullest extent of every detail?” It was a statement that Crihound couldn’t exactly deny, so he didn’t comment on it.
“Well, by the time this airs the world will already know who I am, so I won’t make it so dramatic this time.” She removed her mask, let her hair down, and stared at him intently, “I am Phon Drazah, born September 8th, 2056. Only daughter of Eleen and Relyk Drazah, rightful heir to the Drazah Empire along with my still-alive brother, Drim Drazah. World’s most renowned bounty hunter, killer of hundreds, savior of thousands, daughter of demons, The Vixen, adjective omitted... and one of the two very first Fiends.”
She’d said all this with her arms gesturing towards the ceiling. “Sorry, I wanted to present myself like that at least once, all dramatic like, and it’s been too long since I’ve told anyone who I was, so I wanted to make it special.”
“Phon… Dr-Drazah…” Crihound mumbled while his lips quivered with panic. He quickly tested the restraints around his waist but found them solidly in place. The newsman looked around for anything that could assist him but quickly lost hope, and his anxiety grew when he realized that Phon hadn’t said anything during all this time, so he forced himself to look back at her. She was leaned back in her chair with her arms and legs crossed with a look of amusement on her face, likely enjoying watching him squirm with no chance of escape.
A few more seconds and a few deep breaths later, he calmed himself down. The best thing I can do right now is to keep her from getting angry, so I’ll do this interview. After that thought, he straightened back up and plastered the trademark news anchor smile across his face before speaking. “Alright, next question then. You said you were one of the first Fiends, and therefore must have a lot of knowledge on the subject. Could you please tell us a little bit about what the governments have been keeping from us, the people?”
Crihound wasn’t honestly sure what the question he’d just asked meant, but he didn’t want to address it. The man felt reassured when Phon responded with an approving nod now that he was cooperating. “I would be happy to.”
Phon then began a long monologue, “The very first reported incident of a Fiend occurred about two weeks after the Cosmic Boon. It was a police officer stationed in one of the eastern countries. He had shot and killed a former Drazah superior officer who had turned to being a looter from the dire straits he found himself in. There were reports from his coworkers soon afterwards that this particular officer now had blood red eyes.”
“I can’t exactly say what went through the officer’s head, but I can imagine. He suddenly found himself surging with power, stronger than anyone he had ever known. This feeling of power was too much for him, and it drove him a little crazy. He then went on a rampage of killing criminals, and even an officer who had tried to stop him, likely feeling that he didn’t need to answer to anyone anymore.”
“His fellow officers then surrounded and killed him. It was written off as a mental health issue and reported as such. There is a good chance that it was mental to an extent. I imagine he must have felt like a higher being, not knowing that at that moment dozens of other Lesser Fiends just like him were being created around the world. From then on, the various governments and the Central Peace did their best to bury anything involving people with red eyes once it became a trend… okay, next question.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Crihound had actually been interested in her story, so it took himself a second to snap out of listening and resume his questions. “You mentioned that he was a ‘Lesser’ Fiend, could you please explain the differences between them and actual Fiends?” he asked, not knowing it would be awhile before he would get to speak again.
“Well, there are three main differences between Lesser and regular Fiends,” Phon grew a smug smirk. The newsman guessed it was from getting to show off her knowledge. “There are aesthetic differences, major differences in the benefits they receive, and a slight difference in how they’re created.”
“First off, the aesthetics. There are four main facets when it comes to this: the Curse Mark, the hair, the eyes, and the blood. Lesser Fiends, as many people know, are branded with a red mark somewhere on their body. Some Lessers even have multiple. However, since it is just a solid color, it can be hard to discern what the mark actually is, and it’s different for every person.”
“This can be understood more clearly on an actual Fiend, since it’s colored in. The mark will have something to do with how the victim died; whether it’s the location, the victim’s personality, how they were killed, or their relationship with them.” At that moment The Vixen stood up again, lifted up the back of her hair, and turned around.
She was wearing a slightly modified outfit from the ones Crihound had seen in past reports he’d done. From the front it was exactly the same, but in the back, the area from the collar to just below her shoulder blades was open with exposed bare skin. Her hair had been blocking a now-visible tattoo. It was an image of a globe with a bloody knife sticking into it. “This is my Curse Mark,” Phon said before lowering her hair and sitting back down.
“If you’re wondering, my brother’s is on his chest. It’s a heart wrapped in three vines of black thorns. Apparently, it’s the same as the emblem on his cloak, but I’ve never actually seen it myself. Oh right, I forgot to mention he’s the other first Fiend, but everyone should know that by now.”
“Anyways, moving on, next is the hair. Lesser Fiend’s hair stays the same, but for regular Fiends our hair will change into a seemingly random color that we’re stuck with. Dyes won’t work on it. They just flow right off. According to my brother, you can cut it pretty short, but if you shave it off entirely, it will regrow the next day to the exact same length it was before.”
“The eyes will also change into an entirely random color. For Lessers, it’s always blood red, but it can be any color for us. I would venture a guess that no regular Fiends can have blood red eyes, but I have nothing to back that up. I also don’t know if colored contacts would work to conceal it. Never tried myself, but I’ve always worn a mask, so no one could see them anyways.”
“Last is the blood. Like the hair, it changing is unique to real Fiends,” the woman explained as she pulled out the knife she’d used before and cut her hand. She then pointed her freshly wounded palm to Crihound and then to the camera. Purple blood was seeping out of it. “It would appear that it always matches our eye color, and honestly I think it’s pretty neat.”
Phon briefly moved her mask back to her face, quickly vanished, and reappeared a few seconds later with a bandage wrapped around her hand. Crihound had a dumbfounded look on his face and was about to ask about how she kept doing that, but she raised a finger to stop him and continued talking. “That brings me to the next point. What exactly happens to someone who becomes a Fiend and how it differs from that of a Lesser Fiend.”
“Lesser Fiends get a strength boost when they are made. On average, I'd say they become two or three times stronger than that of a normal human. How much varies based on a person's build, their muscles, and how much effort they put into it. Their innate physical ability definitely still matters, being a Lesser Fiend just boosts what’s already there.”
“It’s the same for actual Fiends, but the boost is much greater. It’s hard to put a number on it, but if I had to, I’d say ten to fifteen times. To give an example, someone who was just newly made into a Fiend and hasn’t done much training, or someone whose body isn’t fully developed, would struggle to lift a car, but they could probably manage it. Someone like me who has a lot more strength can lift it no problem. With even more additional training and strength, I’d wager a Fiend could be able to lift a full-sized truck at the height of their power.”
“It’s not just our general strength, it’s our resistances too, but this doesn’t seem to be the case for Lessers, however. As far as I can tell, we seem to be immune to most things. We’re definitely completely immune to radiation, and temperature doesn’t really bother us whether it’s freezing cold or boiling hot. But if the temperature is severe enough, we can still get burned or take damage.”
“As far as diseases go, at least the ones that are common, we seem to be unbothered by those as well. It could just be boosted immune systems, but I’ve been around a lot of highly contagious people and have never gotten sick since I became a Fiend. We also heal a bit faster. It still varies based on the severity, but it’s definitely noticeable.” Phon took off her bandage. Her wound wasn’t completely healed but it was definitely closer than it should have been.
“It’s difficult to understand just how far being a Fiend goes. I’ve only actually met one other Fiend, and the same can be said for my brother. The two we’ve met have corroborated everything I’ve said so far, but none of us exactly want to push ourselves to our limits.”
“I’m sure that isn’t what everyone is curious about, though,” Phon huffed as she leaned forward in her seat. “Everybody wants to know about the special ability that comes with being a Fiend. I can tell you a little bit about that. Every Fiend’s power is different, that we’ve come across so far anyways, and like their Curse Mark, their ability in some way relates to the person's death along the same guidelines. It may not always be super clear, but there definitely seems to be some form of connection”
“My brother once tried to explain fully the details of his Curse to me in a letter. It was kind of complicated, but I think I’ve got the jist. He drains the life of plants and uses that energy to make new plants that he can control. There seems to be more to it than that, but you’d have to ask him about it. I won’t talk about the powers of the other two Fiends we’ve met since it’s not my place to say.”
“As for my Curse, there are actually two parts to it. The first part relates to the question I get most often: ‘How can you see?’ I didn’t actually have to wear a full face mask all these years. My brother just wanted my identity hidden, so I could have easily gotten away with just hiding the bottom half. I did it purposefully, though, so that I would be forced to train my ability. I don’t want to give away the entirety of how it works. So to keep it simple, I’ll just say: when I close my eyes, I can see in a different way from that of a normal person.”
“I didn’t actually discover the second part until a few years later, and it was entirely by accident. The details would be a little difficult to explain until everyone sees it in action a bit more. I will say that it relates to how I keep appearing and disappearing instantly, but that’s all I’ll elaborate on for now.”
“Lastly, how one becomes a Fiend. Like a Lesser Fiend, you must kill someone who is evil or in some way bad for the world. However, there is one important stipulation; this person must be someone you’re close to, someone you care about, or someone you love. In some way, the victim must be special to you. When you kill a human who meets both of these requirements, you become a real Fiend.”
“My brother and I killed our parents, the person I met killed her mentor, and the person Drim met killed his twin brother. That just gives you a bit of an idea of the kind of scum that fit the bill. Alright, on to the next question!” The Vixen leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath as if she hadn’t inhaled the entire time she’d been talking.
She sure likes the sound of her own voice, huh? Crihound thought to himself. There was something in what she said that bothered him, though. He didn’t really want to get kicked again, but he couldn’t fight his reporter instincts to keep him from asking. “So in all of what you just said, you kept mentioning the word ‘Curse’. Like when you mentioned the tattoos or brands, but then you kept calling them a Curse Mark, and when talking about your abilities, you sometimes called them your Curses. Does this mean you feel that being a Fiend is actually a Curse?”
“Oh, you’re a naughty boy aren’t you? Can’t keep your perceptions to yourself,” Phon hissed snidely, her cold eyes glaring at him. The captive tensed himself up in preparation for pain, but it never came. “It’s a decent question, though, so the nice and courteous me will grace you with an answer,” the woman replied, looking smug again.
“It has nothing to do with how I feel. Being a Fiend is without a doubt a Curse. As in, you are ‘cursed’ by the person that you kill. After we killed our parents, their spirits appeared before us. They then flew into us and branded us with our Curse Marks. The abilities we gain actually comes from the lingering will of the people we kill. So yes, it is definitely a Curse.”
“In addition, Drim and I will occasionally feel our parents in our heads. It’s not like a voice that you would hear if you were going crazy, but it’s more like we channel them through us. My father may have been quite hated, but it can not be denied that he is a genius strategist. It’s rare, but when I really need it, I can feel him directing me, guiding me on what to do. For my brother, though, he seems to be worse off, but he can speak on that if he ever does his own interview.”
“However, both of us asked the other Fiends we met if they experienced the same things, but both of them stated they neither saw faces nor sense the deceased in the present. So it may have been just a one time thing since we were the first ones, or it could have been since our parents were exceptionally evil so the Curse was stronger. The one I met suggested I should seek psychiatric help—little brat… Anyways, the next real question, please.”
“Oh, sure,” Crihound replied while hastily looking down at the paper. “You claim that you and your brother are likely responsible for the creation of all the other Fiends. Why do you feel this to be the case?”
“Well, when you get down to it, based on the timing of everything, it would seem that the existence of Fiends must be tied in some way to the Cosmic Boon. I can confirm that this is true, but not in the way that everyone thinks. The lights that the people saw that night were not a gift from the heavens. It wasn’t divine intervention smiting down the Drazahs, there was nothing godly about their deaths. Those two lights were Drim and I soaring through the sky.”
“After we became Fiends, we were enveloped in that light and flung to opposite ends of the world. Basically, everything that people believe about the Cosmic Boon is totally wrong. You all can keep the holiday, though, I enjoy any reason for presents.”
“As to why we feel we’re responsible for the rest of the Fiends, it has to do with that light. When we killed our parents, the two most evil people in the world, potentially of all history, that caused some event to unfold, seal to break, something… I don’t really know what. The light that carried us was definitely something supernatural, and is probably what made it so other Fiends could be created.”
“If there are any Lessers or Fiends out there who don't want to be one, they're welcome to blame us. But we don't regret what we did, not for a single day. Our parents were evil and the world was better off without them. You won’t get any sympathy from me either, cus every single Fiend is a murderer so… yeah. Next question.”
“Won’t this broadcast cause a rise in murders with people wanting to become Fiends to gain power?” Crihound asked.
“That is definitely quite possible,” Phon admitted. “The gain in power is quite substantial, but you’re willingly being Cursed to obtain it. My guess is that after this broadcast, most criminals will start to turn on each other. Those who have broken laws have the highest rate of turning someone into at least a Lesser Fiend when killed, after all, so I’m guessing there will be infighting among groups of them. This will probably greatly reduce the number of criminals, but the ones that remain will be stronger than ever.”
“As long as this doesn’t make too many super evil Fiends, it won’t be something the world can’t handle. I find this unlikely, though, since criminals aren’t the type to care deeply enough about each other to become actual Fiends, and if they did, that connection would most likely outweigh their desire for power.”
“I’m more worried about all the stupid little children out there.” Phon turned directly to the camera and stared seriously into it. “Now listen to me, kiddos. Just because your mommy or daddy punished you does not make them evil enough to make you become a Fiend. Parents need to be harsh sometimes, that’s just how it works.”
“Don’t go killing them just because you’re a little upse. I’d only recommend killing them if they’ve killed bunches of other people like my parents did, and if you do, be sure to do it in an interesting way so you may end up with a cool Curse. Okay, next question, I believe it’s the last one.”
“Yes it is,” Crihound replied, thankful that this was nearing its end. “Do you and your brother genuinely have no desire to carry out your parents’ legacy and take over the world?”
“Nope, none whatsoever,” The Vixen gave a genuine response. “It was a stupid idea to begin with, and it caused too much unnecessary strife. I don’t know who’d want to rule the world anyways. Frankly, it sounds like way too much effort and responsibility. But we don’t know what the future holds. Who knows, someday someone may beg us to conquer the world.”
“Okay, that ends our interview, but don’t worry, we’ll be keeping in touch!” Phon energetically struck a grin. A few seconds later, she got up and stopped the recording on the camera and took it off its stand.
The captive stared at her eagerly and asked, “So, you’re going to let me go now, right?”
“Hah, cute… but no,” the now-undeniable kidnapper laughed before turning cold again, her sinister smile reappearing on her face. “Here’s what’s going to happen. A few days from now, on Monarchber 2nd, an associate of mine will come and pick you up. He will take both you and an edited copy of the tape to your studio.”
“At exactly [500], you will go into the studio and demand that this tape be played. If you try to escape during either the next few days, or during transport, or if the tape is not played, I will suuuuuuuper murder you. Also, I will put your corpse in a totally embarrassing position and make sure it’s broadcasted to the entire world.”
Crihound started to panic, he wanted to yell out for help again but he definitely didn’t want to piss off Phon Drazah. Doing his best to think and speak rationally, he demanded, “How can I survive for that long?! Wouldn’t it be better to just let me go now?! I promise the tape will get played!”
“Oh right,” Phon remembered something while pointing a finger in the air. She put her mask back on then vanished and appeared again almost instantly with a basket and a bucket. After putting them down, she did it again, this time appearing with a sleeping bag and a pillow. Once more, she appeared with a stack of magazines.
The conscientious kidnapper arranged it all neatly in a corner before turning back to him and reported, “There’s enough food and water in there to last the duration of your stay as long as you don’t pig out. The bucket’s for when you need to do your business, and I got some magazines so you’re less likely to kill yourself from total boredom. Is there anything else you want? Cus once I’m gone I’m not coming back, and no one will check on you until the appointed day.”
Too many thoughts were racing through Crihound’s mind to give an answer, so he just shook his head. “Okay then,” Phon went to undo his chains. Though she didn’t unlock them, but rather just snapped them loose. This was another thing to make the man’s mind race. Once he was collected enough, he stood up, not sure if he should say anything.
Phon tilted her head as if she was waiting for him to say something but then most likely got bored. “Soooo, I’m gonna go. Hope you have fun. Remember, tape at [500] on Monarchber 2nd, and don’t forget that if you’re bad...” At that moment, she pulled out her knife again and made two thrusting motions. “Stabby stab… Huh, that didn’t rhyme as well as I thought it would. Oh well, bye!” The Vixen gave a slight wave before vanishing again, this time for good, leaving Crihound all alone in the basement for the next three days.
◆◆◆
After the broadcast ended, Drim and Phon headed out to buy the supplies they needed. It didn’t take too long, and they got home in time to organize it pretty quickly, not wasting too much of their day. When they finished, Phon looked in the fridge and grimaced at the empty state of it. Buying food had slipped their minds. Fiends could go a long time without food, and even days without feeling hungry if they think about it, but since they were raised on eating three meals a day, they liked to stick to that convention.
The pair hadn’t even thought about lunch since they were so distracted, but Phon felt they should at least eat something that day. I guess I’ll head out to a convenience store and pick something up, then we’ll go proper grocery shopping tomorrow, she thought to herself, enthused even about the concept of their reunited life together. Right after that moment, though, the doorbell rang. She poked her head back into the living room where his tablet was reading something on his tablet and asked him, “Were you expecting someone?”
Drim merely shook his head in response, so the sister mused, “I wonder who it is then.” She quickly closed her eyes so her vision could take hold. “Oh, it’s the neighbor lady from next door.” Of course Phon had already examined everyone around them earlier to make sure there was no one suspicious. “I’ll get it then.”
“Hi! Welcome to the building!” the first-time renter found herself greeted by an overzealous and slightly voluptuous middle-aged woman who was holding a casserole in a fancy dish. Once she saw her new neighbor’s face, the woman dropped the casserole in a panic. Phon had been expecting this and already had her hands out waiting to catch it.
The diligent woman pulled out her phone and dialed the number for the police, but before it could even ring once, The Vixen snatched it out of her hand and crushed it. Then as Phon spoke, the woman could only stare in disbelief that this was her reality. “So yeah, never do that again. If you ever try to contact the police about us, I will hunt down every single person you know and love, bake them into a casserole, and force feed it to you. Now nod your head if you understand.”
After a few seconds of silence, the neighbor nodded obediently. A smile flooded the bounty hunter’s face as she chirped cheerfully. “Great, then it was nice to meet you. Thank you for the casserole. We will enjoy it. Don’t be a stranger now!” Phon closed the door in the still-shocked woman’s face but continued to watch her for a bit with her vision.
The neighbor continued to stand there for a few more minutes before heading back into her apartment. She then stared at her home phone for a bit, and even picked it up once, but ultimately decided not to do anything. The voyeur stopped watching once the woman went and curled up in the shower, assumedly crying.
That night, Drim and Phon split the casserole between them and both agreed that it was surprisingly good. The next day, the kinder sibling returned the dish and apologized to the woman for his sister’s behavior. He then did his best to try to convince her that Phon wasn’t a psychotic culinary-based serial killer.
Fiends For Hire Text Conversation 1
Date: Monarchber 5th 2077
『Phon: Where’d you run off to?』
『Drim: Went out to get some supplies for dinner.』
『Phon: Oh what place? I kind of want to visit them all so let me know what you think.』
『Drim: Forest』
『Phon: Forest…?』
『Phon: Wait, like the actual forest?』
『Phon: Drim you don’t need to hunt for food anymore. We can just go to a store.』
『Drim: Too late.』
『Drim: Don’t worry I’ll clean it before I get home.』
『Phon: ...』
Discord, , and Amazon Release (Pending), can be found on the Fiends For Hire .
If you were killed by a Psychotic Culinary-Based Serial Killer, what food would you want to be turned into?
