#rainfall.txt

1,000 deaths. Men, women, animals...children. 1,000 deaths, all thanks to one man...one Toon...one self-proclaimed 'hero'.

Berryfast. The fastest Toon alive, and he could only save one person, one person who now hates him more than anything in the world.

...Sprout and Cosmo weren't the only things to come out of that explosion, though. A few weeks later, a shadowy figure was first spotted lurking around the monument to those who were lost in the explosion. When approached, it disappeared, dashing away with such speed that it could only be perceived as a blur of black and red.

Over the next few months, it was sighted again and again- watching from on top of buildings or in the distance, most often during or in the aftermath of Berryfast's fights. ...Eventually, though, it was no longer content just to watch. In one of Berryfast's many battles with Philosugar, the black blur burst into motion as the heroic berry was about to land a blow, barreling into Sprout and sending him flying into a wall. This was the first time anyone could truly see it...the first time the disgusting, horrifying form it took on was ever seen.

A monstrous, mutated version of Berryfast himself, its 'costume' made out of torn flesh and ragged sinew stretched over an emaciated, Ichor-drenched body. It didn't stand still for long, though, fighting alongside Philosugar and landing brutal strike after strike on its heroic lookalike. That day, one of the greatest heroes in the world almost died. That day, news broadcasts all over the city spoke of a Twisted that could rival Berryfast himself in terms of sheer speed. That day, BerryBlitz, the living embodiment of Althea City's greatest tragedy, made itself known, and the world would never be the same.

An investigative journalist living and working in Shirelock-Norlock, it didn't exactly come as much of a surprise to anyone when Lumino's corpse was found in one of the crime-ridden city's innumerable alleyways. Sure, they would be mourned- for a few days, at least- but time moves on, and the city never sleeps.

And so neither would he. Not his body, and certainly not his soul.

A few days later, the cleanup crew sent to retrieve the journalist's body were found mauled, ravaged bodies strewn in pieces across the floor. Recovered security footage was difficult to analyze, covered in static, but the crimson eyes of a Twisted were unmistakable even through the glitchy haze.

Over the next few weeks, a string of brutal murders were reported one after the other to Shirelock's police department. Initially, they were ignored, until a crime scene analyst- an intern, new ones come and go every other day- noticed a common thread. Each of the victims had been mutilated, but it wasn't the mutilation of a sadistic killer or torturer. It was closer to the wounds you'd see on the corpse of an animal savaged by a predator- and it was consistent.

Most murder cases in Shirelock-Norlock aren't exactly worth looking into. Too much work for far too little reward- how many of those cases are ever actually solved, anyways? I doubt most cops in the city have more than one closed case under their belt...however, there's quite a difference between 'most' and 'all.

After all, they don't call Dasher C. Clockwork the Hound of Shirelock for nothing.

Honestly, it was harder for Officer Clockwork to find the thing than it was for him to put it down. Poor thing (I hesitate to call a Twisted such, but it absolutely applies here) never even stood a chance. Hell, I don't think it could land a single hit on him. Honestly, I don't know what anyone expected...a newly formed Twisted up against Shirelock's best cop? There was only ever one way that fight could have ended.

Come the next month, the Twisted, beaten to a pulp barely reminiscent of a Toon, would reform, faster, stronger, better than before. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anybody, that's what they do- but something was different, this time. The Twisted moved with purpose, now. It wasn't feral, it wasn't mindless, it wasn't a hollow shell like the rest of its kind.

A black star rose over Shirelock, that night. It may not burn as bright as its contemporaries, but it burns regardless. It burns for hope. For justice. For the truth. It won't be so easy to extinguish, this time around.

Hey, you. Yeah. You. C'mere. You know those ships docked at the Lotus Port, yeah? The big ones, the old ones, the ones that never go anywhere? Sit down, kiddo. Lemme tell you a story.

You ever hear that Garden City used to have a trade partner out on the other side of the Grebes? No? Figured, people don't really talk about the place I come from no more. Too many bad memories, not enough good. They did, though. There was another city across the water, way back when. Gets hard to tell how long it's been..

Folk over there exported all sorts o' things over those waters. Precious resources, mostly. Gems, oil, gold...other stuff, too. Stuff folks up at Gardenview wouldn't want y'all knowin' about. Trinkets were a big one.

Then, one day...it all stopped. Ships quit comin', letters stopped sendin', and when they finally sent folks in to check on the sitch...it was gone. Whole city, up in a flash. That's what they said, 't least. Better than tellin' anyone the truth. I know the truth, though. I do! I ain't crazy, I was there! Right at them docks, steerin' my ship into port when everythin' came crashin' right on down.

Oh, it was a sight t' see, I'll tell ya that. Like the wrath of the gods 'emselves!