On a cold December morning in Castle Street, a small, innocent-looking Pichu rested its head and hands in the stock under the gleaming, thick blade of a guillotine. A Throh gripped the rope that would be pulled to behead the thing.

But why would a sweet, benine creature be put to such a gruesome and untimely death?

Because this creature was not innocent. He was not sweet, nor kind, and certainly not benine. Because this Pichu, due to an unfortunate series of events that ultimately corrupted him, was evil.

Because this Pichu was Sunnyscythe.

Thirteen Pokemon citizens stood in front of Sunnyscythe and the guillotine, trying hard to keep their gaze focused on the semi-friendly looking Throh rather than the Pichu's hollow, lifeless eyes. Among these viewers were Randy & Lotey Crysaline, two past victims of Sunnyscythe's manipulative behaviors. Though they didn't nessicarily want to see him die, they felt that they should pay their respects, regardless of ugly past relationships. (Even though most people in Castle Street, being the peace-loving folk they are, were paying their respects by staying in their houses.)

Sunnyscythe was uncharacteristically silent as a ghost.

That is, until Sunnyscythe's speaker came up.

Princess Cleffa, Castle Street's rather spoiled heiress, was this speaker.

"Sunnyscythe," began the Princess, "You have caused chaos for the people of Castle Street for a very long time. It it easily said that you are a raging psychopath and your continued presence here endangers our peaceful existence."

"I'm not crazy." Sunnyscythe interrupted, directing his hollow gaze at Cleffa, greatly unnerving her.

"...So," continued Cleffa, trying to ignore the Pichu's non-eyes, "It has been decided that you are to be executed on this day, something we have never done to anyone here on Castle Street before. But you have brought so much disarray upon us that we're not sure what else to do..."

Sunnyscythe was silent once more.

"It is time for you to leave our world, Sunnyscythe." said Cleffa. She stood back a bit and signaled the viewers to do the same. She then nodded to the Throh heavy-heartedly. The Throh nodded back in the same manner, then tightened his grip on the rope.

Sunnyscythe's eyes drifted away from Cleffa's up to the blade, his maker, and then they closed. Tight. Tighter. Tightest.

The rope was pulled.

Time suddenly came to a standstill as the Throh shapeshifted into a familiar-looking figure.

Daddy, Sunnyscythe's subconscious flickered.

Sunny's eyes opened slowly. His gaze drifted to his left.

"Hello, there." said Fantasma.

The Pichu didn't say a word, his expression unchanged.

"You don't know me," said Fantasma, "But you will, in time. But that time isn't now. Now is the time that I will do you the biggest favor of your life. Concerned about returning the favor? Don't worry. I have plans for that. Now, get up."

Sunnyscythe slipped out of his stock.

"Where do I go?" asked Sunnyscythe, standing in front of the eerie looking Jirachi.

"Anywhere you'd like." said Fantasma, lifting his arms up as he floated in the air, "The world is yours, my boy. They won't find you."

A pause. Then, Sunnyscythe spoke.

"Thank you..." said the Pichu.

"Don't thank me," said Fantasma, "Thank me later."

There was another pause, then Sunnyscythe sped off like a rocket into the surrounding woods.

"Poor boy..." said Fantasma, watching Sunny as he ran.

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