The killer lifted its clenched hand, smaller pieces of stone falling from between its fingers, most of them barely being held at the tips.

"It won't be that difficult, Birdo. All you have to do is say 'Ah.'" The killer followed its own lead, opening its mouth and sticking its tongue out. Bringing its other hand up, it placed a few of the pieces of gravel on its tongue.

"Then," It said, withdrawing the stones into its mouth, "You just have to swallow. One, two, three. Easy-peasy, right?" The killer smiled and Birdo spotted the pieces of grit it held between its teeth. The killer then proceeded to spit, and the stones clattered on the silver masonry, now wetted dark grey where the killer's saliva fell.

"And if I don't?" Birdo whispered, trying to turn away from the psychopath.

The character only shrugged, dropping the stones and reaching for the lasso of wired rope.

"That's why I braided this thing in the first place." It said, uncoiling the rope around its neck and beginning to twine it around Birdo's own. "I don't want you to move while we practice our little annunciation drill." Once again, the killer put emphasis on "annunciation", as if it were but a game to it.

The killer leaned forward, holding the rope with two hands now and pressing its palms against the fountain behind Birdo. The rope was held so that the front of her throat was in contact with it, and so that the back of her head pressed against the fountain's edge. She was nose to nose with the killer.

"So, let's practice. A bit at a time, yes? Baby steps?" It whispered softly, barely rubbing noses with Birdo. Birdo flushed, trying to shrink away, but the tension on the rope increased, keeping her head in place.

The killer's voice had finally settled upon its true nature, shedding the layer of faked existence. Its breath was surprisingly fresh, attempting to betray the actions it had committed that night. Despite herself, Birdo was inclined to inhale, to continue to breathe in the sickeningly sweet flavor.

"Mmhm... I keep myself tidy, don't I? That way no one notices when one toad is lost... Or when a whole town goes empty. And that way, no one notices when the heroes are gone from the pages of records, kept to themselves for all of eternity. I do everything for a reason, Birdo... It's but a matter of piecing the puzzle together correctly..."

Birdo felt the shifting of the rope around her neck, the killer moving it from one hand to the other so that a single hand held the rope around her neck like a leash. She watched as the assassin took up a new hand of gravel, rolling it about in its hand.

"Let's try your first phrase, shall we? Only a small handful to start. It'll increase as we move on, so let's try to get this over with. I'm not very patient." It whispered, assuaging, yet soft, as if playing as timid of a role as its story would allow.

Without waiting for Birdo's response, verbal or otherwise, the killer tipped its hand, emptying the small gravel cargo into Birdo's mouth.

The stones were cold and surprisingly salty, as if they had been mined from a quarry. As well as that, they were roughened, not smoothed at all whatsoever. Sputtering, Birdo tried to spit, as the killer had, but the rope restricted her movements, the free hand of the murderer covering her mouth.

"Come on now, let's try the first phrase. I hate it when people argue or find distaste in my tactics."

The eyes narrowed, observing its hostage.

"First phrase. Hmm... Ah!" The blue eyes lit, as if finally coming up with something.

"'Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.' Simple as that. They'll get harder, don't worry, but I just want you to get in the swing of things before we actually start." The hand over Birdo's mouth didn't release, making sure that all the stones stayed where it wanted them to belong.

"Your turn, Birdo."

Birdo didn't make a sound, trying to negate the killer's instructions. That attempt was short-livid, as the killer jerked on the rope, choking Birdo briefly. As she let out a gag of shock, she felt the gravel cut into her soft palate, stinging as it filled the new cut with their salt and drew metallic blood. The killer seemed to note Birdo's discomfort, for it made a comment.

"Ah... Bleeding already are we? I'm telling you, this could be a lot easier if you just comply." The voice almost mocked.

Birdo said nothing, trying to stop the sharp feeling of fear from rising in her throat. As she choked down a sob, trying to lessen the tension in her throat, she felt both the slick sensation of her blood and the coarse shredding feeling of the gravel sliding down.

Just as the killer had desired.

It noticed the change in Birdo's position, and her blatant shock. Therefore it took advantage of it, releasing its hold on her mouth and scooping for more gravel. Birdo gasped for air, trying to regulate her breaths, but the air only ventilated the iron taste, filling her senses of taste and smell with rusty tastes of sharp bitterness.

"There you go. One phrase at a time. Obviously you didn't seem to like the first one, so let's try a different one. I'll call it a success nonetheless, and I can see that you've depleted some of your marbles. That is something to fix, isn't it? Let's try again, and this time with a larger amount." The assassin said, nonchalant, waving its closed hand at Birdo.

Birdo broke. This was death. This was pain.

And the one who executed it could have been no better fit to do so.

"Stop! Please, I_!" Birdo begged, trying to pull away from the hand which held the leash behind her. But the killer only raised a single finger, pressing it to its lips, stones barely falling as it did so.

"Shhh... I know, I know. Pain isn't fun, is it? It hurts... Oh, does it hurt. But the pain you feel, Birdo, won't last forever. My pain is eternal. It doesn't come from here," the killer pointed towards Birdo's bleeding lips, the dark gloved finger barely shaking. "It comes from here." It pointed to its chest, barely nodding at Birdo as if it wanted her to understand.

"And it comes from here too..." The killer tapped its temple.

"Life is pain, Birdo. You take what you have, or you leave it. I'm just using what was God-instilled in me. You all call this immoral, or psychotic at least, but I'm doing what is right... Healing what was wronged, mending what life tore away from me. You don't see it, Birdo, but I'm purging you. I purged everyone. And when I can finally take command, the world, and life as all know it, will be better off. Its but a matter of take or leave, kill or command. And the day will be brighter, just you wait..."

It trailed off.

"Just you wait..."

Birdo's chest was pounding. The eyes were glazed, as if thinking into the possible life ahead. Insanity melding with power. Memories mixing with potential future. Finally, they cleared, as if remembering the true purpose of the moment current. The eyes gazed at Birdo with finality.

"But I'm distracting myself. Focus on one thing at a time. That's how I'll get things done. Moving on now. For the better. For the future."

Birdo shook her head softly, trying to disengage the killer, but it paid her no heed.

"Next phrase now, yes?"

"N_ no..." Birdo choked, feeling the sickeningly smooth rush of crimson on her tongue.

"Yes, yes." The killer nodded, eyes glittering with passion, "Moving on! A little more now!"And with that, the hand covered Birdo's mouth once again, filling it with stones.

There were definitely more this time than the first, for Birdo had to puff her cheeks in order to keep them all in. The killer didn't notice though, or didn't seem to care, for it said, without hesitation:

"How much wood would a koopa chuck if a koopa could chuck wood?"

Birdo struggled even more, feeling the unforgiving strands of metal at her throat. She could feel the rope chafing her thin scales, beginning to tear in without a control or care.

The killer let out a sigh of exasperation.

"You really hate it that much?"

Birdo stopped, only breathing heavily as the eyes watched her with interest. Without a word, she silently nodded.

"I can't really offer much leeway on this... I can only speed it up... Would you prefer that?"

Birdo made no movements, eyes widening with fear and sudden adrenaline. The murderer tipped it head.

"Now you are silent? I'm offering two decisions, sweetheart. Which would you prefer?"

Birdo continued to make no response, only listening to the soft pattern of water falling into the fountain and Yoshi's soft breathing. The killer didn't wait for long, jerking on the rope once again.

"Will you make a choice, darling, or will I have to?"

Birdo felt the rope cutting in deeper, strangling her, yet allowing her to breathe, even if it was scarce. She could sense the rawness on her neck, the metal moving past the scales and into softer flesh. Like the fountain's cold water trickling between the scales on the back of her neck, she felt a similarly warm trace trailing down her chest, creeping across the thick scales of her shoulders and stomach.

She closed her eyes, lowering her head.

"I see..." Whispered the killer. "Resigned already, have you? This was nowhere near as epic as I expected our final encounter to be. I expected it to consist of some sort of fighting spirit. I guess I should never assume anything, should I?"

Again, Birdo made no response, only listening to the silence setting in around her. Listening to the sound of breathings, the creaking of her ribcage and windpipe as she inhaled shaky breaths.

"Now I'm getting depressed. This is no satisfaction. You're just like Rosa. And Mario for that matter. Laying down to die as soon as the gate opens. No fighting spirit whatsoever."

Birdo flicked her eyes open, meeting the killer's gaze as evenly as she could muster, trying to say words without a sound. Spewing hate from forlorn and broken eyes.

The killer lifted its chin, smiling at the sudden change in Birdo's posture.

"Ah... Hit a nerve now, did I? Then I offer the choice once again, sweetie. Should I speed it up, or will you repeat the phrase?"

Birdo glared at the assassin from behind its glove, its hair wild, as if finally releasing it from senses. Ecstasy. Freedom.

Its own passion.

Its own perfection.

Perfection of corrupted mind.

Just like her.

Birdo breathed in deeply, prepared for her debut.

She spoke, and forcing out every syllable to the best of her ability, making sure that the assassin could hear her.

"How much wood would a koopa chuck if a koopa could chuck wood?" She whispered, clear and cold.

Silence surrounded the two, only yielding to the rushing of the water behind them. The killer's eyes softened and glazed, as if becoming more numb to its surroundings. Releasing itself more completely.

"That's my Birdo... I knew you would come around."

Birdo snatched the killer's hand, pulling it away from her mouth.

"Kill me." She panted, feeling the iron settling on the gravel. "If you're going to kill, do it with pride. I hate those who hide in shadows."

The killer stiffened, not taking its eyes from her, lifting its lip in the curve of a small smile.

"You are so assured that this is the correct choice?"

Birdo stared it right back, careful not to shirk away. After a moment, the murderer nodded.

"Those who hide in the shadows... Yes... That sounds just like me, doesn't it?" It murmured.

Birdo made no response, only letting her actions speak for themselves.

For a while longer, there was silence. Finally, the killer shrugged.

"If that's the way you want it, I guess I'll respect it. I did offer the same condolences to Mario..."

The blue eyes flicked around the area for a moment, as if they had forgotten where they were. 

They alighted upon something just to Birdo's left. Carefully, she tipped her head in that direction, ignoring the slicing from the rope for a brief second.

She didn't understand what was so interesting to the assassin.

"I'll hurry things up. Just for you, Birdo."

Still grasping the metal rope choking Birdo, the killer stood, shifting to stand before the part of the fountain which interested it.

"Things are just becoming more and more cheaply made, aren't they?" It whispered, shaking its head.

Before Birdo could make a remark, or even a question as to what it could be implying, the assassin let out a sharp shout as a cracking sound echoed.

There was the sound of scraping before a dull thump came from it. Birdo looked up to see the killer shaking its foot and a large chunk of stone missing from the ledge of the fountain. The piece in question was laying nearby, roughly cubic in shape, and just as sharp.

The blue eyes met Birdo's.

"Right. Here's your challenge. I was saving this for later, but I suppose if you really want it now, I can make an exception. This will be the only stone in your mouth. You have to speak what I say perfectly. Then you're done. Got it?" The voice was whispered and slightly hoarse, as if remembering something which was bitter to it.

With inhuman speed, the killer was suddenly on top of Birdo, literally sitting in her lap, straddling her with the stone in its hand.

"Right. Last phrase. Let's start by fitting the stone in, shall we? You do have a big mouth, so I don't think it'll be an issue."

Birdo reached for the restricting rope at her throat, now slick with rusty tones of her own.

"Come on now," It whispered, "Play nice..."

'Play nice...'

That was the final touch.

Birdo screamed. She was broken. It was just a matter of how long now. How long would the killer stand here to watch her suffer?

The metal rope constricted her vocals, threatening to tear them out.

She could feel the cold touch of the stone on her lips, chilled by water and brushed by wind. The killer grumbled.

"Just barely... But not quite..."

Birdo was shaking, the fear and red adrenaline filling her with pure and utter terror.

And all of a sudden, full of a light humor. A gas of macabre comedy. A thrill of laughter.

Now she laughed. Forced, yet full. She couldn't stop herself. There was no ceasing. Madness was now hers as well. The killer's words ringing true.

"Insanity freshens..."

No. It didn't freshen.

It cleansed.

Perfection. Perfect perfected perfection.

Flawless self. Purified mind.

True selflessness.

A voice brought Birdo back.

"So I've cracked you already. That has to be a new record. And now do you understand?" The voice whispered, crooning softly, "What I've been through? What it is like to free yourself? What it is like to be whole? To be wholly shattered?"

The killer leaned in close.

"To be me?"

Again, the smell of the killer filled Birdo's senses, the overtone of flora and spring flowers evident. Yet, underneath the breezy scent, Birdo knew its reality. She could taste the darkness beneath, and she knew who it was that was to be her undoing.

"However, to bring you back, sweetheart, my first issue stands. Your mouth just isn't big enough. Then again, I am very inventive. I've more than one way to solve a simple problem."There was a pause for a moment. Birdo listened to the thin pulse of her blood in her ears. It was the only audible thing now. A moment later, there was a quick sting and she felt twin rivulets joining with those already present. A tearing ensued and a pressure was placed on her tongue, pressing the small pieces of gravel into her tongue, piercing it were they lay.

"There you go. Now let's have the final phrase." The voice was low, and it whispered into Birdo's ear.

Silence lasted for but a moment longer, and the killer spoke one last line. A line that Birdo immediately thought that she was speaking.

"This is as far as you go."

And the voice was hers. The tremolo impossible to mistake. It was her voice, all hers. And yet she hadn't spoken.

But it knew. It knew her voice. And it used her voice to mock their first encounter, and now their final one.

Hoarsely, without realizing what she was saying, Birdo answered the mocking call in the only way she knew how.

"I'll remember this..."

As soon as the words passed her, crystal clear despite the stone meant to garble her speech, the blue eyes before her faded in and out of blurred focus.

And the stone moved.

Birdo could feel every crevasse and niche on the stone as it tore through the back of her throat, filling her nose and mouth with metallic crimson. And the force didn't yield, only encouraging the ripping and the sounds of tearing which Birdo heard in her own head. Yet, she wasn't weak, even as the blood poured from her chin to the immaculate silver cobble, but rather, she felt alive.

Laceration at its finest.

Uselessness its disguise.

Intimidation the greatest asset.

Grave holding no fear.

Insanity at its peak.

The masterpiece of a perfected killer. The perfection of a mad assassin. The tortured purification of beauty.

The purging of crimson.

A weight settled in Birdo. The final bravado of vermillion ceremony.

The garrote loosened, and the sting of the outside filled the raw skin beneath, a new rush of warmth seeping through.

There was a pressure on Birdo's hand. She hadn't realized that she still had feeling, the exhilaration of senselessness like that of a blanket covering reason.

She made out a glitter in front of her. Something she vaguely remembered. From where or when, she could not place, but dear to her nonetheless.

"It's a beautiful thing... Fitting for someone that I know..."

Birdo didn't speak, only listening to the sound of silence setting in the night.

No speaking. No noise. Silence.

And pain.

Unimaginable pain.

Fire which coursed in every nerve.

Yet... lethargy.

Feeling of nothingness.

As she still silently mulled over the ideas, there was a final sting. Dull, yet it pierced through the ether of psychosis.

Death.

No...

No... not death...

It knew that too well...

It granted her something else, didn't it?

Release.

Freedom.

'Freedom...'

...

End of Part Seven

Til we meet again, Keep Rockin'

-Shamrockin13