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Murkrow held a wing over his face to shield his eyes from the sunlight. In the heat of midday, crowds of Pokemon bustled through the market square. Summer always ensured the bazaar hummed with lively chatter. The crow stroked the leather pouch he had tied around his neck. Like all the others, he was looking to trade.

His talons clacked on the cobblestones as he made his way down the main path. Eyes shifting between the shop stalls lined up on either side of him, he caught sight of something that brought a sour look across his face. He considered ducking through the other Pokemon to hide behind a basket. But by the time he took a step aside, they had already spotted him.

“Feathers! Surprised to see you poking your head up today.”

Charmeleon sauntered towards him. His lackeys, Meowth and Sneasel, followed in tow. The two wore wicked grins, while their leader brandished a baleful scowl that he was so known for. Murkrow glared at them from beneath the brim of his head feathers.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” he muttered. “And I don’t have time to chit-chat. I’m here to do business.”

“Hff. Can you believe the nerve of this guy, boss?” Meowth chimed in, crossing his arms.

The fiery lizard Pokemon stomped up to Murkrow and snorted smoke from his nostrils. “This is our turf, feathers. And if I want to talk to you, then you’ll make time.”

“Say, what’s in the bag?” Sneasel asked, smirking. “You wouldn’t be holding out on us, would you?”

Before Murkrow could guard it, Charmeleon snatched the pouch from his neck. A swift smack knocked him aside when he scrambled to get it back. Turning it over, Charmeleon emptied the contents into his palm.

“Well, what do we have here?”

A clutch of perfectly round stones fell into his hand. Each was a different color, and they were all amazingly vibrant. He rolled the smooth orbs in his grip while his henchmen blinked in wonder.

“Ooh, shiny things, aren’t they?” Meowth purred, reaching out to take them.

Charmeleon batted his hand away. Dropping them back into the pouch, he pulled the cords to tighten it. “I’ll be taking these as payment for your obvious lack of respect. Next time, you better think twice about how you talk to me.”

“Hey, those are mine!” Murkrow fumed, stamping his foot on the ground. “I wore my wings out flying to the coastline to find them!”

“Tough luck!” Sneasel taunted, dismissively waving.

All three of them laughed as they turned and walked away. Murkrow scraped his talons against the cobblestones, eyes filled with anger. He desperately wanted to swoop down on the lizard and give him a good thrashing. But he knew that he stood little chance against him, let alone when Meowth and Sneasel were also around.

He dusted himself off with a pat of his wings and grumbled. Those polished stones would have served as excellent bartering chips at the market. While he plodded through the road, head tipped down, his fiendish mind raced.

“There must be some way to get back at them...” he whispered under his breath.

Without any extra goods on him, there wasn’t much for him to do at the shops. He lazily trotted around the outskirts and kept an eyes out for something he might want later. But he couldn’t keep his mind off Charmeleon and his gang. Revenge had to be his; he prided himself on one-upping the other Pokemon.

His absent-minded wandering led him to the farthest edges of the bazaar. By the time he’d snapped back to awareness, he stood in a nearly-deserted stretch of dirt road. A few dilapidated and empty booths sat in overgrown grass. The only manicured lot was at the very end. A white and blue tent was pitched there. Only then did Murkrow notice the red eyes staring at him from within it.

“Eh? Who...”

Taking a few steps closer and squinting, his keen avian eyes caught the Pokemon’s outline. Even the trickle of sunlight that seeped into the tent was enough to light up his golden body. Cofagrigus.

“So that’s why nobody’s over here. He’s a creep,” Murkrow said to himself.

But the sign affixed to Cofagrigus’ tent caught his attention. The words “Scare for Hire” were painted onto a wooden board. Murkrow’s brow perked up. It was such an unusual idea that he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Overcoming any nervousness he felt about the strange entity, he approached Cofagrigus.

“Hello there. This seems like an odd spot to set up shop. Getting many customers?”

“Fwohoho. I find the solitude comforting. Besides, those who truly are in need of my services will seek me out.”

Murkrow traced the tip of his wing along his head feathers. “Hmm. And what exactly is a ‘Scare for Hire’ service?”

“It’s just as the name suggests. You pay me in glorious gold, and I strike anyone of your choosing with utter terror. That is what I’m best at.”

Evil thoughts entered Murkrow’s mind. Cofagrigus had a reputation around the town as a truly enigmatic creature. If anyone could put the fear into Charmeleon, it was him. And he adored the idea of that blustering lizard’s face being twisted by fright. Letting out a mischievous snicker, he stroked the bottom of his beak.

“Anyone? Well, now that you mention it, there are a few thugs who have been giving me trouble. Perhaps a haunt like you could set them straight.”

“Excellent. Payment must be made up front. And I must warn you; this is not a matter to be taken lightly. My service instills true horror, not the kind of cheap scares you might get from a campfire tale.”

“True horror will do just fine. Just fine. I’ll fly home and get my gold right away.”

Cofagrigus lit up at the mention of gold. “Bring it quickly. You’ll find that my work is worth every lovely ingot.”

Years of treasure hunting and dirty dealing had amassed Murkrow a respectable hoard of gold bars. He was willing to part with some of his precious valuables in exchange for teaching those bullies a lesson. His wings carried him home and back in a flash, and he returned to Cofagrigus laden with payment.

“Ahhhh. Gold. Glorious gold! I would sell the world for it, but taking nothing to let go of even a single bar.”

“So what exactly are you going to do to them?” Murkrow asked.

“That’s a trade secret, my feathered friend. I can’t divulge specifics. But I assure you that there are few things more terrifying than what I have in store. You have my word.”

The night passed Murkrow by without a wink of sleep. Cofagrigus had been extremely vague about his methods, and no amount of pressing had convinced him to say more. All manner of possible torments ran through his mind. Growing giddy from the mere thought, his revenge fantasies kept him awake long into the early morning hours.

Even though he woke up late, there were plenty of busy hours left at the market the following day. It was the first time he actually wanted to meet Charmeleon there. Bounding towards the crowd, his eyes darted between the many faces to look for them.

“Aha!”

A flicker of flame slipping around the corner gave away the lizard’s presence. Murkrow flew up above the crowd, zeroed in on them, and swooped down to cut them off. Their faces fell into the gravest of expressions when he landed in front of them. All three looked as though they had seen a ghost.

“Agh! U-uh, Feathe – I mean, Murkrow,” Charmeleon said, going pale in the face.

Meowth tepidly raised a paw, waving. “Hey there, aheh heh heh. We were just on our way outta here.”

Sneasel remained silent. He averted his eyes from Murkrow’s, uncomfortably digging the claws of his foot into the dirt. The bird glanced over the three. A low, pleased squawk chirped from his beak. Whatever Cofagrigus had done, it left them in a state of quivering shock.

“You three look as though you’ve had a rough night.”

Charmeleon grimaced and turned his head away. “Well. You know. We just got tired of hanging out around here all the time.”

The bird narrowed his eyes, feeling supremely smug. “And of stealing from other Pokemon, hmm?”

“Um...we were just kidding around that time. Erm, we’re, y’know...sorry.”

His two followers clasped their arms to their sides and nodded. A feeling of triumph welled up in Murkrow. It was astonishing to see the three troublemakers express remorse. The gold he had exchanged proved to be worth it after all.

“Well then. I’ll be off. I have business to attend to. Have a nice afternoon,” he taunted in a mocking tone of voice.

Flapping his wings, he flew off in a fit of snickering laughter. It was almost too good to be true. But as he landed on a branch and stared out over the marketplace, nefarious ideas started to churn in his head. Why should he stop with Charmeleon?

There were so many other Pokemon out there who deserved to be terrorized. Bullies and criminals. And it’s not as though they were truly harmed. Only a little spooked. Murkrow could teach all the thugs out there a valuable lesson. The only question was who to start with.

A quick trip brought him back to Cofagrigus’ tent while he pondered it. “That was some amazing work you did on Charmeleon and his boys.”

“As guaranteed.”

“I’ve been thinking that I may be in need of your services some more. Of course, I can pay you.”

Cofagrigus let out a monstrous chortle. “Is that so? I always welcome more gold bars. But keep in mind that the process can be rather intense.”

“I don’t doubt it. Nothing less would have shaken Charmeleon so much. He, Meowth, and Sneasel are out whimpering as we speak. And now I’d like to have a little fun with the other tough guys around here.”

“Fun? Well, your motives are your own. Gold is all I care about. Bring it to me, and my services are at your command.”

Going through faces in his mind, he settled on a perfect target. Another low-level punk who had caused him, along with many others, trouble in the past. Scraggy. That lizard loved to pick fights. But if there was anybody who could make him cower, it was Cofagrigus.

Murkrow delivered the payment, flew home, and nested in bed while thinking of what his mark would look like in the morning. He could hardly contain his excitement when dawn came. After preening his feathers, he found a high perch near the middle of town.

“Let’s see if that phantom came through again.”

Pokemon slowly filtered out of their homes, yawning and preparing for their day. He nearly dozed off while waiting on the tree limb. But his patience paid off; Scraggy eventually shambled into view. Murkrow could tell right away that he was not his usual self.

Jittery, keeping to himself, avoiding eye contact. It was a far cry from his usual boisterous self. A Raticate accidentally brushed up behind him as it came around the corner. Scraggy was so shocked that he dropped his loose skin and tripped over it as he tried to run away.

“SCRAWHAHAHA HAH HAH!” Murkrow screeched with laughter, nearly falling out of his tree from cackling so hard at the sight.

Watching as Scraggy hiked up his loose skin and scuttled away with a red face, Murkrow decided on the spot that he needed more entertainment. And as he raised himself into the air, he spotted his next target. Krokorok.

Cocky and mean-spirited, that reptile had long been a problem for Murkrow. Valuable items had a habit of going missing when Krokorok was around. He was a slinky, wily creature. Whereas Charmeleon and his gang took what they wanted with force, Krokorok committed his deeds when no one was looking.

A brush with bone-chilling fear would teach him that he always had eyes on him. People had noticed his behavior, whether he realized it or not. Murkrow made his way straight back to Cofagrigus. And the ghost was all too happy to accept more gold bars for another job.

“I want this one to be extra scary. That crook needs to learn what karma really means,” Murkrow said.

“Mmm, all of my work is top notch. I never skimp on a case. So don’t you worry your fuzzy little head, my friend.”

“I’m counting on you.”

Murkrow could hardly sleep that night. Excitement kept him awake; he wondered if Krokorok would be shaken even worse than Scraggy. The image of that punchy lizard slipping over his own pants still brought a chuckle out of the bird.

“Let’s see...where is that little thief?” Murkrow asked himself. High up in the branches, he watched the morning crowds to look out for Krokorok.

He had planned on spending most of the afternoon in the tree, even packing a lunch. The reptile rarely ventured out until the sun began to set. But much to Murkrow’s surprise, he spied Krokorok quite early. Something in the night must have frightened him so badly that it interrupted his nocturnal routine.

“Ah, there he is. Now to see if Cofagrigus came through again.”

Just as he had hoped, Krokorok fared no better than his delinquent peers. He braced himself against walls to look around the corner. He constantly twitched his head to look around and behind him. And he shuffled his feet quickly to get out of the open space as fast as he could manage.

When some of his few acquaintances waved, he offered only a lukewarm nod in return. Murkrow watched as they approached him. But the croc shook his head, muttered something, and sped away. He wasn’t quite the loud, brash hoodlum that he used to be.

“Scree hee hee! Wonderful. Cofagrigus must be some kind of miracle worker,” Murkrow giggled.

But the avian was not yet satisfied. Most of the town’s criminal element had been given something to be nervous about. And still, he wanted to see more Pokemon falling over themselves like cowardly hatchlings.

And why not? They would not be hurt. As long as they were merely spooked a bit, Murkrow could give them a hard time with a clean conscience. There was no particular reason why he had to limit himself to criminals and street toughs. Nobody would ever know it was him behind everything.

He flew to Cofagrigus and grinned. “I have more work for you. And more gold bars.”

“Eee hee heh...”

The next several weeks saw the community gripped by panic. Nobody wanted to speak about what had happened to them. Pokemon began to stay indoors at all hours. When they summoned the courage to venture out, they kept their heads down and scurried as fast as they could. And most of all, they stayed far, far away from the tent of Cofagrigus.

It was only a matter of time before groups of them realized they weren’t the only ones who had been attacked. On a dark night, a collection of individuals who had suffered the scare service gathered at a cafe. They gathered around a table and discussed their conundrum in hushed tones.

“We all know why we’re here,” Gardevoir said. “The question is: what do we do about it?”

Charmeleon pounded his fist against the tabletop. “We need to find out who’s hiring that ghost. Then we can teach them a lesson they’ll never forget!”

A murmur of agreement rose in the air.

“Easier said than done. Cofagrigus isn’t going to spill who’s paying him,” Croconaw said, crossing his arms.

Meowth shook his head. “There’s gotta be some clue. Nobody covers their tracks perfectly. Somebody had to see them hanging around that spooky creep.”

“Um...” Miltank said, bashfully clacking her hooves together.

“Speak up! If you saw something, you’d better tell us!” Sneasel growled, scraping his claws over the wood.

“Anh! Well, I didn’t want to say anything. I w-wasn’t sure if I was right...” Miltank started nervously, biting her lip. “...but you see, I was at the market the other day picking berries and...”

Krokorok snarled. “Out with it!”

“M-Murkrow! I saw him going into Cofagrigus’ tent. And it looked like he had a heavy bag with him. And I know Cofagrigus only takes gold bars as payment, so...”

Charmeleon’s fists balled up and a vicious grunt rumbled from him. “Of course. It sounds like me and my friends were the first victims. And it was the same night that we ran into Murkrow. So he’s behind all this.”

“But why would he go after us? We’ve done nothing to him,” Gardevoir asked.

“You don’t know him well, do you? He’s always pulling pranks on people. This is right up his alley,” Croconaw answered.

Meowth hissed and rapped his nails on the table. “You know what we should do? We should all pitch in a little to get some gold and hire Cofagrigus. Pay for the real deluxe treatment. Our little pal Murkrow needs some straightening out.”

“You took the words right outta my mouth,” Charmeleon said.

Scheming continued for the rest of the night, unbeknownst to Murkrow. The following sundown, the bird Pokemon strutted towards his home after a long day out and about. His stride carried victory. Seeing the whole town tremble had been most amusing.

Murkrow’s head jerked to look over his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard a noise. But with the sun dipping below the horizon, darkness quickly consumed the land. Even his sharp avian eyes caught sight of nothing behind him.

“Hrf. I’m letting the night get the best of me.”

As he passed down the street, he couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching him. His gaze shifted between the houses on either side of the path. Whenever he stopped to take a quick look over his back, there was nothing but shadow.

He picked up his pace. Talons rapidly clicking against the pavement, his own home came into view. A vicious wind blew as he neared it.

The feathers on Murkrow’s body stood on end. Something crept up along the back of his mind and made his flesh crawl. He whipped around and stumbled. “Who’s there!?”

In the midst of the dark, two pinpoints of light hovered at the far end of the street. He couldn’t tell if they were eyes or something else. But the mere sight of them, sitting motionless in the air, was enough to send a chill through him. He flapped his wings, kicked off the ground, and cut through the air towards his home.

Something wrapped around his ankle as he neared the door. He stretched out his wings in a last attempt to grab the doorknob. But it was too late; whatever held him began to pull. It did so with such force that he whistled through the air.

“FWOHOHOHO!”

“Ack! Wh-what!?”

Even as it held him, he couldn’t make out what it was. The thing wrapped around his ankle blended in perfectly with the shadows. He struggled with all his might as it dragged him towards the orbs of light. But that laughter; it was unmistakable. Cofagrigus.

The realization did him no good. His eyes finally caught sight of the outline of Cofagrigus’ sarcophagus body just as the ghost’s spectral limbs pulled him into it. Its lid slammed shut and trapped him inside.

“N-no! Wait! What is this!?” he demanded, kicking and pecking at the inside of the coffin.

“Don’t fight. It will do you no good, my friend,” Cofagrigus cackled. “It appears you’ve angered more than a few Pokemon.”

Murkrow’s brow perked. “Eh? But I’m the one who hired you first! You can’t do this to me!”

“I’m a mercenary. You know that. And your fellow townsfolk have paid me a princely sum to give you the scare of a lifetime.”

He began to rattle within Cofagrigus’ body as the ghost moved. “Where are you taking me?”

There was no answer. His heart hammered against his chest as his pulse raced. Somehow, they’d figured out it was him. The crow had never expected the other Pokemon to catch him in the act; he had also never thought that they might employ Cofagrigus against him.

Nerves rattled, he tired himself out trying to crack the lid open. It was no use. The terrible realization that he could not get out of his captor’s grasp set in. He slumped at the bottom of the sarcophagus and wracked his mind thinking of what he could do.

“H-however much they paid you, I’ll double it! Triple it!” he pleaded.

“You could not possibly pay me that much. Your friends were generous indeed. They wanted the best from me. A deluxe experience for you.”

“Deluxe!?”

The jostling stopped. Cofagrigus had stopped moving. Sounds of sliding stone echoed as his body popped open. As soon as it did, Murkrow leaped into flight. His kidnapper was even faster; six arms of shadow materialized from the ghost to grab the bird.

“Agh! Let me go!”

“No, no, my friend. It’s your turn to experience the horror that you put your friends through.”

His eyes widened as he stared into Cofagrigus’ own. The red orbs glowed, lighting up the demented smile on his face. One shadowy hand clutched each of Murkrow’s wings and spread them apart. It left the bird held high in the air, uselessly struggling and kicking his legs.

“What are you going to do to me?” Murkrow asked, surveying his surroundings.

It was incredibly dark, with only four dim torches around to shed some light. From what he could tell, they looked to be in a cave. He could not see the entrance. The torches provided a circle of light barely large enough to illuminate him and Cofagrigus.

“Words are not needed. For it is your own body I will use to teach you what it means to be scared. Let me show you...”

The ghost was unnaturally strong. Murkrow could not budge his wings in the slightest. He let out a choked squawk; two more of Cofagrigus’ hands lifted towards him. All he could do was flail and watch them draw near.

“No!”

Bracing for the ghost’s cold touch, he had no idea what to expect. The victims he’d watched had no visible damage to their bodies. And yet, they were left scarred by the experience. His skin quivered under the touch of the dark, chill fingertips when they brushed through the feathers on his middle.

“Ngh, n-no...what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, little birdie. Tell me, are you...ticklish?”

“E-ehh!? Ticklish?”

Giggles squawked from his beak before he could get another word out. The fingers ruffled through his coat of feathers to tease the pale skin beneath them. Murkrow gasped; it caught him entirely off guard. Of all the vile things he’d imagined Cofagrigus would do, tickling had not come to mind.

“W-krrraawahahawhaw hawhawhaaak! St-Stahap! Wait!”

“Coochie coo, little bird...”

Uselessly kicking his legs in the air, he writhed in the phantom’s grasp. He pulled his wings, shook his head, and tried to peck the hands that held him. If Cofagrigus felt anything from the sharp tip of his beak, he didn’t show it. The pecking had no effect whatsoever on his unearthly hands.

Cofagrigus delicately squeezed both sides of Murkrow’s stomach. He knew exactly how much pressure to use without causing pain. It was just enough to send ticklish spasms over his prisoner’s muscles. Repeatedly making clutching motions with his hands, he coaxed a fresh fit of laughter out.

Exploring the bird’s fragile frame with a careful touch, Cofagrigus prodded the tips of his index fingers into Murkrow’s sides. They slid up until he felt the tiny ridges of the bird’s ribs. Gently rolling the pads of his fingers in circles, he toyed with the bones.

“Nahahahaaa! Stahahaaap tickling!” Murkrow screeched.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Unsure if this was the real technique Cofagrigus used to scare his targets or if it was some kind of bluff, it proved unbearable nonetheless. Tickling had always left him a squealing mess. This time was no different.

And as Cofagrigus’ fingers moved farther up, panic set in. Murkrow knew the spots under his wings, were deliriously ticklish. The feathers also thinned greatly there, leaving easy access to his sensitive flesh. He felt the pressure of the wiggling fingertips getting closer and closer.

The plumes on his back stood up as he warbled out increasingly frantic laughter. “N-nohohoooo! Nahahat there, nahat thahaha-that! I’ll pa-pahahahahaa-pay you anything!”

“Perhaps you would. But I do not cheat my customers, and your friends paid me for a particular length of service. You will enjoy every moment that I promised them, fwohoho!”

“No!”

The flying Pokemon braced for Cofagrigus to tickle under his wings, cringing. But just before he was about to, his hands whizzed down to clutch his legs. He gasped for breath during the sudden break. It didn’t last; the ghost pulled his legs forward to leave him in a lying position mid-air.

“Do bird Pokemon have ticklish feet? A perfect time to find out,” Cofagrigus snickered.

Murkrow clamped his beak shut. His talons curled down while another pair of Cofagrigus’ levitating hands reached out for them. He knew that his feet were ticklish, but not nearly as much as under his wings. It was almost a relief. Almost.

“Snrrk...ngh...bw-bweehee hee ha ha hah hahahaha!”

A delicate scratching over the yellow bottoms of his feet sent tickles up his legs. Doing his best to stifle his laughter, giggles slowly started breaking through. Streams of airy laughs poured from his beak as his resistance cracked.

“Ohoho oh stop, stop! Nohoho hoa hah hah! St-stahahp that! Krawhahawahahaiiee!”

“Ah, so they are,” Cofagrigus said in delight. “Let’s see how much.”

Forcefully bending back the bird’s talons, he danced the tips of his fingers at the bases of his toes. Murkrow cawed in a fit of laughter. His soles were somewhat firm, but the areas near his toe-claws were softer. The tickles there sent much more intense sensations shooting across his body than merely having his foot bottoms scratched.

Still, it was bearable as long as it was his feet. The true dread came from knowing that Cofagrigus would likely not be content to remain there. Sooner or later, he would test the rest of his body. And the thought of the evil creature finding his weak spot made Murkrow more fearful with every passing moment. He had to get free before it was too late.

“Ohohahahaw hah krawah hah hah bwahahaha! P-please! I-I-I’ll do anything! I’ll ahahahaha-apahah-apologize to them!”

Cofagrigus released a rattling cackle that echoed through the cave. “I assure you that they were not interested in apologies. Revenge was what they were after. Much like you were, in the beginning. Nothing less will do.”

He let out a growl. Murkrow glanced up to see the two glowing orbs of his eyes staring him down, that haunting grin plastered on his face. The hands slipped away from his feet and stroked up his legs. Breath quickening, the bird scoured his brain for some distraction.

“W-wait, no! My feet are my most ticklish spot! I, uh, I deserve this, I admit it. So just tickle my feet and get it over with!”

“Ah, what a sudden streak of remorse,” Cofagrigus hummed, hands petting over his victim’s feathery belly. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

Murkrow felt his muscles of his abdomen tense when his fingertips brushed over them, heading up to his chest. “N-no...I would never...”

A sudden poke made him shudder. Another pushed helpless giggles from his beak. Cofagrigus’ fingertips softly kneaded into his skin as they parted ways at his chest. Each hand slid towards one of his wings. Murkrow could only watch and snicker as they moved agonizingly slowly towards the bottoms of his wings.

“Word gets around, bird. I’m not entirely out of the loop. I know you’re a trickster. Your word can’t be trusted. And I just have the inkling that you’re hiding something.”

“No, wait! Don’t!”

Icy fingertips poked the warm hollows of his underarms. A screech loud enough to shake dust from the cave ceiling rang from him. Cofagrigus’ face twisted into a look of glee. The bird writhed in his grip, body shaking with involuntary flight responses. He felt it quake in his hands.

“NAHAHAHAAA HAW HAW HAW! NAHAT THERE! OH PLEASE, COFAGRIGUS! KRAWAHAWHAWA HAH!”

“Oh, what have we here? You were holding out on me. Tickle tickle...”

“Squark!” Murkrow cried as the hands that held him slammed him down against the cave floor.

One held each wing, and one held each leg. They pulled them apart until he was spread eagle on the ground. Such a position left his underarms bared and vulnerable. He’d hardly regained his senses from the sudden impact before he felt another tickling touch.

“Gwahahah hah hah! HAH HAHAHA! STOP! I CAHA-CAN’T STAND IT!”

Cofagrigus’ third and final pair of summoned arms busied themselves with torturing Murkrow. The little spaces between his body and his wings were hot and smooth, but dry. He had no trouble ruffling through the very thin down that covered them.

Peals of pitifully helpless laughter served as his reward. His mystic appendages were strong enough to hold him down with ease. All the bird could do was toss his head back and forth while he melted into hysterics.

“No! NOHOHOOO! I’ll DIE! KRAWHAWHAW HAW HAW! PLEASE, GWHAHAHAA HAH!”

“Oh, you won’t die. I would never let you. Perhaps you’ll wish you did. But you will laugh for me. And you’ll know the terror of losing control of your own body.”

He swished his fingertips in circles in the curves of Murkrow’s underarms. Pulling his wings nice and tight to give himself more access, it left the stretches of skin taut. And that left them wide open stroking and scratching. Cofagrigus flicked the very edges of his fingers over them, the light dusting proving enough to leave him gasping for air.

“Your little friends were generous. So generous...”

“GAHAHAHAW HAW HAW!”

Murkrow watched fresh malice shine in his tormentor’s eyes. A brief respite gave Cofagrigus the time he needed to pick out two perfect feathers. He plucked them from his head. Two stiff quills with pointed tips. Brandishing them in the air above Murkrow, he let out a devilish snicker.

“N-no, not my own feathers. That’s just mean!”

His whimpering did nothing but earn him a taunting chortle from the ghost. The feathers descended on his open wingpits. Stiff enough to work through the thin down on his skin, they sent fluttery stimulation all over the bird’s defenseless body.

“Snnrk, gnngh! N-nahahah hah hah hee heeeee! Stahahaap, no more!”

The plume tips flicked and caressed the little curves of skin. Circling them around the outside edges, sticking them in the middle to wildly flick back and forth, Cofagrigus savaged the unreasonably sensitive areas. A mad stream of squawks and screeches and cackles bounced off the cave walls. It was music to the ghost, and spurred him into a relentless tickling.

“All the victims you hired me to take care of were at least lucky enough not to bring the instruments of their own ruination with them. Fwohoho.”

Face burning with humiliation, fury, and desperation, Murkrow could hardly collect his thoughts. A lick of a feather scattered them every time he tried to compose himself. Even managing to squeak out a few lines of begging between his laughter caused his lungs to ache from the effort.

If only Cofagrigus had never found out how ticklish he was under his wings; every other spot on his body was covered with such thick plumage that this would be ineffective. And his feet were firm enough to not feel much from feathers. But the monster had zeroed in on them right away.

And his wings were spread enough to leave his underarms stretched out. The smooth, taut skin let the feather tips glide back and forth smoothly, ruffling through his fluffy down along their way. He jerked his head from side to side as he struggled to cope with the onslaught of panicked signals that his nerve endings sent to his brain.

“KrawhawhawHAWHAW haw HAW HAAAHAW! OH PLEHEEEHEASE! NAHAHAAT THERE! ANYWHERE ELSE!”

“Why not? Afraid I might tickle you mad? Perhaps it’s too much?”

It stopped. Murkrow’s chest heaved while he sucked in air. His head twitched as he blinked tears out of his eyes. The hands Cofagrigus used to tickle him hung in the air, still clutching the feathers. He felt a brief flicker of hope that He had chosen to take pity on him.

“Do you think you can bear much more?” Cofagrigus asked in a cooing voice.

“No...” Murkrow whispered in a hushed breath.

“Well,” Cofagrigus smirked, spinning the feathers around in his hands to hold them by the pointed ends. “You have no choice. And you have a long, long time left to suffer.”

Murkrow’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the sharp quill tips. A sobbing noise choked up from his throat before he could get a word out. Tired though he was, the threat terrified him enough to get his body thrashing once more. He strained against the arms that pinned him as Cofagrigus took his time in lowering the ticklish tools to his frame.

“No, please! Don’t! Not under my wings! I can’t – KRAAAAAWK!”

The quills pricked the tingling flesh under his wings. Such a sudden, focused stimulus made him jerk so severely that his back arched up off the ground. It smashed back down just as quickly; screeching hysterics flooded from his beak.

“GWAHAHAHAAAWK!”

“Under your wings, over your stomach, at your sides, under your feet. There will be time to tickle every bit of you, bird. Your friends made sure of it. Gold bars galore.”

“PL-PLEASE!” he wheezed, the words breaking up in spurts of tortured howling. “I’LL PAY ANYTHING! EVERYTHING!”

“You can pay me whatever you’d like once your time is up. But until then...tickle tickle!”

He dragged the tips in long, continuous strokes around his underarms. Scraping them from the outside, at the very edges where his wings began, he circled them around to the soft centers. A mad scribbling following.

The pressure was never intense enough to hurt. It came close, but it never reached that point. All it did was tickle. It tickled so horribly that Murkrow wildly bucked under the strength of his captor’s arms. Even when he was certain that no strength remained in his sore muscles, they somehow found it in them to keep pushing.

“LEHEHEHET ME GOOOOO!”

Crying, spittle flinging from his beak, delicate musculature writhing, he yearned to pass out. Any relief from the tickling would be welcome. But he could hear Cofagrigus’ intentions in his measured tones, and he could see it in his eyes. A total lack of mercy.

Finally flicking the feathers aside, Cofagrigus squeezed Murkrow between all of his hands. They dragged the avian back into his sarcophagus body. When the lid slammed shut, darkness enveloped him.

“E-eh, what...” Murkrow said, startled.

His eyes were adept at seeing in the dark of night. But inside Cofagrigus, there was nothing to see. Nothing but inky black. That made the slightest touch magnitudes more intense than usual. Which meant Murkrow felt every wiggling finger as they squirmed over his body.

“N-no, not again! I c-caha-can’t!”

“You can. And you will -”

“Please! KRAHAWHAWHAHHHWK!”

Countless wiggling fingertips groped his little body. They scratched through his feathers, stroked his skin, kneaded his muscles. He felt them prod between his ribs. And he tried to kick when they played with his toes and petted the soles of his feet. There were so many. He was trapped inside with them, without even enough room to spread his wings.

Something coiled around the undersides of his wings and yanked them above his head. Something soft but a little coarse. Flat and wide. Bandages. They pulled his wings high above his head and wrapped them in a cocoon of fabric. And that left his small, trembling body completely vulnerable.

“I’ll let you out in due time. That nice, fat stack of gold your friends paid me tells me two, perhaps three days will suffice. Fwohohoho...”

“No! Noooooooo!”

“Your friends suffered a mere hour apiece. But you, you’re nowhere near finished. I’m sure it feels like it’s been so long, my friend. Do you know you are only now nearing the end of your first hour?”

In a state of ticklish delirium, Murkrow’s head swam. He could only hope that Cofagrigus was lying. It could not have only been an hour. Did he truly have days left? Inside the blackness of the sarcophagus, the passage of time melted away. All he could do was wait, laugh, and pray for the moment when the lid would open again.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Murkrow held a wing over his face to shield his eyes from the sunlight. In the heat of midday, crowds of Pokemon bustled through the market square. Summer always ensured the bazaar hummed with lively chatter. The crow stroked the leather pouch he had tied around his neck. Like all the others, he was looking to trade.

His talons clacked on the cobblestones as he made his way down the main path. Eyes shifting between the shop stalls lined up on either side of him, he caught sight of something that brought a sour look across his face. He considered ducking through the other Pokemon to hide behind a basket. But by the time he took a step aside, they had already spotted him.

“Feathers! Surprised to see you poking your head up today.”

Charmeleon sauntered towards him. His lackeys, Meowth and Sneasel, followed in tow. The two wore wicked grins, while their leader brandished a baleful scowl that he was so known for. Murkrow glared at them from beneath the brim of his head feathers.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” he muttered. “And I don’t have time to chit-chat. I’m here to do business.”

“Hff. Can you believe the nerve of this guy, boss?” Meowth chimed in, crossing his arms.

The fiery lizard Pokemon stomped up to Murkrow and snorted smoke from his nostrils. “This is our turf, feathers. And if I want to talk to you, then you’ll make time.”

“Say, what’s in the bag?” Sneasel asked, smirking. “You wouldn’t be holding out on us, would you?”

Before Murkrow could guard it, Charmeleon snatched the pouch from his neck. A swift smack knocked him aside when he scrambled to get it back. Turning it over, Charmeleon emptied the contents into his palm.

“Well, what do we have here?”

A clutch of perfectly round stones fell into his hand. Each was a different color, and they were all amazingly vibrant. He rolled the smooth orbs in his grip while his henchmen blinked in wonder.

“Ooh, shiny things, aren’t they?” Meowth purred, reaching out to take them.

Charmeleon batted his hand away. Dropping them back into the pouch, he pulled the cords to tighten it. “I’ll be taking these as payment for your obvious lack of respect. Next time, you better think twice about how you talk to me.”

“Hey, those are mine!” Murkrow fumed, stamping his foot on the ground. “I wore my wings out flying to the coastline to find them!”

“Tough luck!” Sneasel taunted, dismissively waving.

All three of them laughed as they turned and walked away. Murkrow scraped his talons against the cobblestones, eyes filled with anger. He desperately wanted to swoop down on the lizard and give him a good thrashing. But he knew that he stood little chance against him, let alone when Meowth and Sneasel were also around.

He dusted himself off with a pat of his wings and grumbled. Those polished stones would have served as excellent bartering chips at the market. While he plodded through the road, head tipped down, his fiendish mind raced.

“There must be some way to get back at them...” he whispered under his breath.

Without any extra goods on him, there wasn’t much for him to do at the shops. He lazily trotted around the outskirts and kept an eyes out for something he might want later. But he couldn’t keep his mind off Charmeleon and his gang. Revenge had to be his; he prided himself on one-upping the other Pokemon.

His absent-minded wandering led him to the farthest edges of the bazaar. By the time he’d snapped back to awareness, he stood in a nearly-deserted stretch of dirt road. A few dilapidated and empty booths sat in overgrown grass. The only manicured lot was at the very end. A white and blue tent was pitched there. Only then did Murkrow notice the red eyes staring at him from within it.

“Eh? Who...”

Taking a few steps closer and squinting, his keen avian eyes caught the Pokemon’s outline. Even the trickle of sunlight that seeped into the tent was enough to light up his golden body. Cofagrigus.

“So that’s why nobody’s over here. He’s a creep,” Murkrow said to himself.

But the sign affixed to Cofagrigus’ tent caught his attention. The words “Scare for Hire” were painted onto a wooden board. Murkrow’s brow perked up. It was such an unusual idea that he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Overcoming any nervousness he felt about the strange entity, he approached Cofagrigus.

“Hello there. This seems like an odd spot to set up shop. Getting many customers?”

“Fwohoho. I find the solitude comforting. Besides, those who truly are in need of my services will seek me out.”

Murkrow traced the tip of his wing along his head feathers. “Hmm. And what exactly is a ‘Scare for Hire’ service?”

“It’s just as the name suggests. You pay me in glorious gold, and I strike anyone of your choosing with utter terror. That is what I’m best at.”

Evil thoughts entered Murkrow’s mind. Cofagrigus had a reputation around the town as a truly enigmatic creature. If anyone could put the fear into Charmeleon, it was him. And he adored the idea of that blustering lizard’s face being twisted by fright. Letting out a mischievous snicker, he stroked the bottom of his beak.

“Anyone? Well, now that you mention it, there are a few thugs who have been giving me trouble. Perhaps a haunt like you could set them straight.”

“Excellent. Payment must be made up front. And I must warn you; this is not a matter to be taken lightly. My service instills true horror, not the kind of cheap scares you might get from a campfire tale.”

“True horror will do just fine. Just fine. I’ll fly home and get my gold right away.”

Cofagrigus lit up at the mention of gold. “Bring it quickly. You’ll find that my work is worth every lovely ingot.”

Years of treasure hunting and dirty dealing had amassed Murkrow a respectable hoard of gold bars. He was willing to part with some of his precious valuables in exchange for teaching those bullies a lesson. His wings carried him home and back in a flash, and he returned to Cofagrigus laden with payment.

“Ahhhh. Gold. Glorious gold! I would sell the world for it, but taking nothing to let go of even a single bar.”

“So what exactly are you going to do to them?” Murkrow asked.

“That’s a trade secret, my feathered friend. I can’t divulge specifics. But I assure you that there are few things more terrifying than what I have in store. You have my word.”

The night passed Murkrow by without a wink of sleep. Cofagrigus had been extremely vague about his methods, and no amount of pressing had convinced him to say more. All manner of possible torments ran through his mind. Growing giddy from the mere thought, his revenge fantasies kept him awake long into the early morning hours.

Even though he woke up late, there were plenty of busy hours left at the market the following day. It was the first time he actually wanted to meet Charmeleon there. Bounding towards the crowd, his eyes darted between the many faces to look for them.

“Aha!”

A flicker of flame slipping around the corner gave away the lizard’s presence. Murkrow flew up above the crowd, zeroed in on them, and swooped down to cut them off. Their faces fell into the gravest of expressions when he landed in front of them. All three looked as though they had seen a ghost.

“Agh! U-uh, Feathe – I mean, Murkrow,” Charmeleon said, going pale in the face.

Meowth tepidly raised a paw, waving. “Hey there, aheh heh heh. We were just on our way outta here.”

Sneasel remained silent. He averted his eyes from Murkrow’s, uncomfortably digging the claws of his foot into the dirt. The bird glanced over the three. A low, pleased squawk chirped from his beak. Whatever Cofagrigus had done, it left them in a state of quivering shock.

“You three look as though you’ve had a rough night.”

Charmeleon grimaced and turned his head away. “Well. You know. We just got tired of hanging out around here all the time.”

The bird narrowed his eyes, feeling supremely smug. “And of stealing from other Pokemon, hmm?”

“Um...we were just kidding around that time. Erm, we’re, y’know...sorry.”

His two followers clasped their arms to their sides and nodded. A feeling of triumph welled up in Murkrow. It was astonishing to see the three troublemakers express remorse. The gold he had exchanged proved to be worth it after all.

“Well then. I’ll be off. I have business to attend to. Have a nice afternoon,” he taunted in a mocking tone of voice.

Flapping his wings, he flew off in a fit of snickering laughter. It was almost too good to be true. But as he landed on a branch and stared out over the marketplace, nefarious ideas started to churn in his head. Why should he stop with Charmeleon?

There were so many other Pokemon out there who deserved to be terrorized. Bullies and criminals. And it’s not as though they were truly harmed. Only a little spooked. Murkrow could teach all the thugs out there a valuable lesson. The only question was who to start with.

A quick trip brought him back to Cofagrigus’ tent while he pondered it. “That was some amazing work you did on Charmeleon and his boys.”

“As guaranteed.”

“I’ve been thinking that I may be in need of your services some more. Of course, I can pay you.”

Cofagrigus let out a monstrous chortle. “Is that so? I always welcome more gold bars. But keep in mind that the process can be rather intense.”

“I don’t doubt it. Nothing less would have shaken Charmeleon so much. He, Meowth, and Sneasel are out whimpering as we speak. And now I’d like to have a little fun with the other tough guys around here.”

“Fun? Well, your motives are your own. Gold is all I care about. Bring it to me, and my services are at your command.”

Going through faces in his mind, he settled on a perfect target. Another low-level punk who had caused him, along with many others, trouble in the past. Scraggy. That lizard loved to pick fights. But if there was anybody who could make him cower, it was Cofagrigus.

Murkrow delivered the payment, flew home, and nested in bed while thinking of what his mark would look like in the morning. He could hardly contain his excitement when dawn came. After preening his feathers, he found a high perch near the middle of town.

“Let’s see if that phantom came through again.”

Pokemon slowly filtered out of their homes, yawning and preparing for their day. He nearly dozed off while waiting on the tree limb. But his patience paid off; Scraggy eventually shambled into view. Murkrow could tell right away that he was not his usual self.

Jittery, keeping to himself, avoiding eye contact. It was a far cry from his usual boisterous self. A Raticate accidentally brushed up behind him as it came around the corner. Scraggy was so shocked that he dropped his loose skin and tripped over it as he tried to run away.

“SCRAWHAHAHA HAH HAH!” Murkrow screeched with laughter, nearly falling out of his tree from cackling so hard at the sight.

Watching as Scraggy hiked up his loose skin and scuttled away with a red face, Murkrow decided on the spot that he needed more entertainment. And as he raised himself into the air, he spotted his next target. Krokorok.

Cocky and mean-spirited, that reptile had long been a problem for Murkrow. Valuable items had a habit of going missing when Krokorok was around. He was a slinky, wily creature. Whereas Charmeleon and his gang took what they wanted with force, Krokorok committed his deeds when no one was looking.

A brush with bone-chilling fear would teach him that he always had eyes on him. People had noticed his behavior, whether he realized it or not. Murkrow made his way straight back to Cofagrigus. And the ghost was all too happy to accept more gold bars for another job.

“I want this one to be extra scary. That crook needs to learn what karma really means,” Murkrow said.

“Mmm, all of my work is top notch. I never skimp on a case. So don’t you worry your fuzzy little head, my friend.”

“I’m counting on you.”

Murkrow could hardly sleep that night. Excitement kept him awake; he wondered if Krokorok would be shaken even worse than Scraggy. The image of that punchy lizard slipping over his own pants still brought a chuckle out of the bird.

“Let’s see...where is that little thief?” Murkrow asked himself. High up in the branches, he watched the morning crowds to look out for Krokorok.

He had planned on spending most of the afternoon in the tree, even packing a lunch. The reptile rarely ventured out until the sun began to set. But much to Murkrow’s surprise, he spied Krokorok quite early. Something in the night must have frightened him so badly that it interrupted his nocturnal routine.

“Ah, there he is. Now to see if Cofagrigus came through again.”

Just as he had hoped, Krokorok fared no better than his delinquent peers. He braced himself against walls to look around the corner. He constantly twitched his head to look around and behind him. And he shuffled his feet quickly to get out of the open space as fast as he could manage.

When some of his few acquaintances waved, he offered only a lukewarm nod in return. Murkrow watched as they approached him. But the croc shook his head, muttered something, and sped away. He wasn’t quite the loud, brash hoodlum that he used to be.

“Scree hee hee! Wonderful. Cofagrigus must be some kind of miracle worker,” Murkrow giggled.

But the avian was not yet satisfied. Most of the town’s criminal element had been given something to be nervous about. And still, he wanted to see more Pokemon falling over themselves like cowardly hatchlings.

And why not? They would not be hurt. As long as they were merely spooked a bit, Murkrow could give them a hard time with a clean conscience. There was no particular reason why he had to limit himself to criminals and street toughs. Nobody would ever know it was him behind everything.

He flew to Cofagrigus and grinned. “I have more work for you. And more gold bars.”

“Eee hee heh...”

The next several weeks saw the community gripped by panic. Nobody wanted to speak about what had happened to them. Pokemon began to stay indoors at all hours. When they summoned the courage to venture out, they kept their heads down and scurried as fast as they could. And most of all, they stayed far, far away from the tent of Cofagrigus.

It was only a matter of time before groups of them realized they weren’t the only ones who had been attacked. On a dark night, a collection of individuals who had suffered the scare service gathered at a cafe. They gathered around a table and discussed their conundrum in hushed tones.

“We all know why we’re here,” Gardevoir said. “The question is: what do we do about it?”

Charmeleon pounded his fist against the tabletop. “We need to find out who’s hiring that ghost. Then we can teach them a lesson they’ll never forget!”

A murmur of agreement rose in the air.

“Easier said than done. Cofagrigus isn’t going to spill who’s paying him,” Croconaw said, crossing his arms.

Meowth shook his head. “There’s gotta be some clue. Nobody covers their tracks perfectly. Somebody had to see them hanging around that spooky creep.”

“Um...” Miltank said, bashfully clacking her hooves together.

“Speak up! If you saw something, you’d better tell us!” Sneasel growled, scraping his claws over the wood.

“Anh! Well, I didn’t want to say anything. I w-wasn’t sure if I was right...” Miltank started nervously, biting her lip. “...but you see, I was at the market the other day picking berries and...”

Krokorok snarled. “Out with it!”

“M-Murkrow! I saw him going into Cofagrigus’ tent. And it looked like he had a heavy bag with him. And I know Cofagrigus only takes gold bars as payment, so...”

Charmeleon’s fists balled up and a vicious grunt rumbled from him. “Of course. It sounds like me and my friends were the first victims. And it was the same night that we ran into Murkrow. So he’s behind all this.”

“But why would he go after us? We’ve done nothing to him,” Gardevoir asked.

“You don’t know him well, do you? He’s always pulling pranks on people. This is right up his alley,” Croconaw answered.

Meowth hissed and rapped his nails on the table. “You know what we should do? We should all pitch in a little to get some gold and hire Cofagrigus. Pay for the real deluxe treatment. Our little pal Murkrow needs some straightening out.”

“You took the words right outta my mouth,” Charmeleon said.

Scheming continued for the rest of the night, unbeknownst to Murkrow. The following sundown, the bird Pokemon strutted towards his home after a long day out and about. His stride carried victory. Seeing the whole town tremble had been most amusing.

Murkrow’s head jerked to look over his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard a noise. But with the sun dipping below the horizon, darkness quickly consumed the land. Even his sharp avian eyes caught sight of nothing behind him.

“Hrf. I’m letting the night get the best of me.”

As he passed down the street, he couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching him. His gaze shifted between the houses on either side of the path. Whenever he stopped to take a quick look over his back, there was nothing but shadow.

He picked up his pace. Talons rapidly clicking against the pavement, his own home came into view. A vicious wind blew as he neared it.

The feathers on Murkrow’s body stood on end. Something crept up along the back of his mind and made his flesh crawl. He whipped around and stumbled. “Who’s there!?”

In the midst of the dark, two pinpoints of light hovered at the far end of the street. He couldn’t tell if they were eyes or something else. But the mere sight of them, sitting motionless in the air, was enough to send a chill through him. He flapped his wings, kicked off the ground, and cut through the air towards his home.

Something wrapped around his ankle as he neared the door. He stretched out his wings in a last attempt to grab the doorknob. But it was too late; whatever held him began to pull. It did so with such force that he whistled through the air.

“FWOHOHOHO!”

“Ack! Wh-what!?”

Even as it held him, he couldn’t make out what it was. The thing wrapped around his ankle blended in perfectly with the shadows. He struggled with all his might as it dragged him towards the orbs of light. But that laughter; it was unmistakable. Cofagrigus.

The realization did him no good. His eyes finally caught sight of the outline of Cofagrigus’ sarcophagus body just as the ghost’s spectral limbs pulled him into it. Its lid slammed shut and trapped him inside.

“N-no! Wait! What is this!?” he demanded, kicking and pecking at the inside of the coffin.

“Don’t fight. It will do you no good, my friend,” Cofagrigus cackled. “It appears you’ve angered more than a few Pokemon.”

Murkrow’s brow perked. “Eh? But I’m the one who hired you first! You can’t do this to me!”

“I’m a mercenary. You know that. And your fellow townsfolk have paid me a princely sum to give you the scare of a lifetime.”

He began to rattle within Cofagrigus’ body as the ghost moved. “Where are you taking me?”

There was no answer. His heart hammered against his chest as his pulse raced. Somehow, they’d figured out it was him. The crow had never expected the other Pokemon to catch him in the act; he had also never thought that they might employ Cofagrigus against him.

Nerves rattled, he tired himself out trying to crack the lid open. It was no use. The terrible realization that he could not get out of his captor’s grasp set in. He slumped at the bottom of the sarcophagus and wracked his mind thinking of what he could do.

“H-however much they paid you, I’ll double it! Triple it!” he pleaded.

“You could not possibly pay me that much. Your friends were generous indeed. They wanted the best from me. A deluxe experience for you.”

“Deluxe!?”

The jostling stopped. Cofagrigus had stopped moving. Sounds of sliding stone echoed as his body popped open. As soon as it did, Murkrow leaped into flight. His kidnapper was even faster; six arms of shadow materialized from the ghost to grab the bird.

“Agh! Let me go!”

“No, no, my friend. It’s your turn to experience the horror that you put your friends through.”

His eyes widened as he stared into Cofagrigus’ own. The red orbs glowed, lighting up the demented smile on his face. One shadowy hand clutched each of Murkrow’s wings and spread them apart. It left the bird held high in the air, uselessly struggling and kicking his legs.

“What are you going to do to me?” Murkrow asked, surveying his surroundings.

It was incredibly dark, with only four dim torches around to shed some light. From what he could tell, they looked to be in a cave. He could not see the entrance. The torches provided a circle of light barely large enough to illuminate him and Cofagrigus.

“Words are not needed. For it is your own body I will use to teach you what it means to be scared. Let me show you...”

The ghost was unnaturally strong. Murkrow could not budge his wings in the slightest. He let out a choked squawk; two more of Cofagrigus’ hands lifted towards him. All he could do was flail and watch them draw near.

“No!”

Bracing for the ghost’s cold touch, he had no idea what to expect. The victims he’d watched had no visible damage to their bodies. And yet, they were left scarred by the experience. His skin quivered under the touch of the dark, chill fingertips when they brushed through the feathers on his middle.

“Ngh, n-no...what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, little birdie. Tell me, are you...ticklish?”

“E-ehh!? Ticklish?”

Giggles squawked from his beak before he could get another word out. The fingers ruffled through his coat of feathers to tease the pale skin beneath them. Murkrow gasped; it caught him entirely off guard. Of all the vile things he’d imagined Cofagrigus would do, tickling had not come to mind.

“W-krrraawahahawhaw hawhawhaaak! St-Stahap! Wait!”

“Coochie coo, little bird...”

Uselessly kicking his legs in the air, he writhed in the phantom’s grasp. He pulled his wings, shook his head, and tried to peck the hands that held him. If Cofagrigus felt anything from the sharp tip of his beak, he didn’t show it. The pecking had no effect whatsoever on his unearthly hands.

Cofagrigus delicately squeezed both sides of Murkrow’s stomach. He knew exactly how much pressure to use without causing pain. It was just enough to send ticklish spasms over his prisoner’s muscles. Repeatedly making clutching motions with his hands, he coaxed a fresh fit of laughter out.

Exploring the bird’s fragile frame with a careful touch, Cofagrigus prodded the tips of his index fingers into Murkrow’s sides. They slid up until he felt the tiny ridges of the bird’s ribs. Gently rolling the pads of his fingers in circles, he toyed with the bones.

“Nahahahaaa! Stahahaaap tickling!” Murkrow screeched.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Unsure if this was the real technique Cofagrigus used to scare his targets or if it was some kind of bluff, it proved unbearable nonetheless. Tickling had always left him a squealing mess. This time was no different.

And as Cofagrigus’ fingers moved farther up, panic set in. Murkrow knew the spots under his wings, were deliriously ticklish. The feathers also thinned greatly there, leaving easy access to his sensitive flesh. He felt the pressure of the wiggling fingertips getting closer and closer.

The plumes on his back stood up as he warbled out increasingly frantic laughter. “N-nohohoooo! Nahahat there, nahat thahaha-that! I’ll pa-pahahahahaa-pay you anything!”

“Perhaps you would. But I do not cheat my customers, and your friends paid me for a particular length of service. You will enjoy every moment that I promised them, fwohoho!”

“No!”

The flying Pokemon braced for Cofagrigus to tickle under his wings, cringing. But just before he was about to, his hands whizzed down to clutch his legs. He gasped for breath during the sudden break. It didn’t last; the ghost pulled his legs forward to leave him in a lying position mid-air.

“Do bird Pokemon have ticklish feet? A perfect time to find out,” Cofagrigus snickered.

Murkrow clamped his beak shut. His talons curled down while another pair of Cofagrigus’ levitating hands reached out for them. He knew that his feet were ticklish, but not nearly as much as under his wings. It was almost a relief. Almost.

“Snrrk...ngh...bw-bweehee hee ha ha hah hahahaha!”

A delicate scratching over the yellow bottoms of his feet sent tickles up his legs. Doing his best to stifle his laughter, giggles slowly started breaking through. Streams of airy laughs poured from his beak as his resistance cracked.

“Ohoho oh stop, stop! Nohoho hoa hah hah! St-stahahp that! Krawhahawahahaiiee!”

“Ah, so they are,” Cofagrigus said in delight. “Let’s see how much.”

Forcefully bending back the bird’s talons, he danced the tips of his fingers at the bases of his toes. Murkrow cawed in a fit of laughter. His soles were somewhat firm, but the areas near his toe-claws were softer. The tickles there sent much more intense sensations shooting across his body than merely having his foot bottoms scratched.

Still, it was bearable as long as it was his feet. The true dread came from knowing that Cofagrigus would likely not be content to remain there. Sooner or later, he would test the rest of his body. And the thought of the evil creature finding his weak spot made Murkrow more fearful with every passing moment. He had to get free before it was too late.

“Ohohahahaw hah krawah hah hah bwahahaha! P-please! I-I-I’ll do anything! I’ll ahahahaha-apahah-apologize to them!”

Cofagrigus released a rattling cackle that echoed through the cave. “I assure you that they were not interested in apologies. Revenge was what they were after. Much like you were, in the beginning. Nothing less will do.”

He let out a growl. Murkrow glanced up to see the two glowing orbs of his eyes staring him down, that haunting grin plastered on his face. The hands slipped away from his feet and stroked up his legs. Breath quickening, the bird scoured his brain for some distraction.

“W-wait, no! My feet are my most ticklish spot! I, uh, I deserve this, I admit it. So just tickle my feet and get it over with!”

“Ah, what a sudden streak of remorse,” Cofagrigus hummed, hands petting over his victim’s feathery belly. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

Murkrow felt his muscles of his abdomen tense when his fingertips brushed over them, heading up to his chest. “N-no...I would never...”

A sudden poke made him shudder. Another pushed helpless giggles from his beak. Cofagrigus’ fingertips softly kneaded into his skin as they parted ways at his chest. Each hand slid towards one of his wings. Murkrow could only watch and snicker as they moved agonizingly slowly towards the bottoms of his wings.

“Word gets around, bird. I’m not entirely out of the loop. I know you’re a trickster. Your word can’t be trusted. And I just have the inkling that you’re hiding something.”

“No, wait! Don’t!”

Icy fingertips poked the warm hollows of his underarms. A screech loud enough to shake dust from the cave ceiling rang from him. Cofagrigus’ face twisted into a look of glee. The bird writhed in his grip, body shaking with involuntary flight responses. He felt it quake in his hands.

“NAHAHAHAAA HAW HAW HAW! NAHAT THERE! OH PLEASE, COFAGRIGUS! KRAWAHAWHAWA HAH!”

“Oh, what have we here? You were holding out on me. Tickle tickle...”

“Squark!” Murkrow cried as the hands that held him slammed him down against the cave floor.

One held each wing, and one held each leg. They pulled them apart until he was spread eagle on the ground. Such a position left his underarms bared and vulnerable. He’d hardly regained his senses from the sudden impact before he felt another tickling touch.

“Gwahahah hah hah! HAH HAHAHA! STOP! I CAHA-CAN’T STAND IT!”

Cofagrigus’ third and final pair of summoned arms busied themselves with torturing Murkrow. The little spaces between his body and his wings were hot and smooth, but dry. He had no trouble ruffling through the very thin down that covered them.

Peals of pitifully helpless laughter served as his reward. His mystic appendages were strong enough to hold him down with ease. All the bird could do was toss his head back and forth while he melted into hysterics.

“No! NOHOHOOO! I’ll DIE! KRAWHAWHAW HAW HAW! PLEASE, GWHAHAHAA HAH!”

“Oh, you won’t die. I would never let you. Perhaps you’ll wish you did. But you will laugh for me. And you’ll know the terror of losing control of your own body.”

He swished his fingertips in circles in the curves of Murkrow’s underarms. Pulling his wings nice and tight to give himself more access, it left the stretches of skin taut. And that left them wide open stroking and scratching. Cofagrigus flicked the very edges of his fingers over them, the light dusting proving enough to leave him gasping for air.

“Your little friends were generous. So generous...”

“GAHAHAHAW HAW HAW!”

Murkrow watched fresh malice shine in his tormentor’s eyes. A brief respite gave Cofagrigus the time he needed to pick out two perfect feathers. He plucked them from his head. Two stiff quills with pointed tips. Brandishing them in the air above Murkrow, he let out a devilish snicker.

“N-no, not my own feathers. That’s just mean!”

His whimpering did nothing but earn him a taunting chortle from the ghost. The feathers descended on his open wingpits. Stiff enough to work through the thin down on his skin, they sent fluttery stimulation all over the bird’s defenseless body.

“Snnrk, gnngh! N-nahahah hah hah hee heeeee! Stahahaap, no more!”

The plume tips flicked and caressed the little curves of skin. Circling them around the outside edges, sticking them in the middle to wildly flick back and forth, Cofagrigus savaged the unreasonably sensitive areas. A mad stream of squawks and screeches and cackles bounced off the cave walls. It was music to the ghost, and spurred him into a relentless tickling.

“All the victims you hired me to take care of were at least lucky enough not to bring the instruments of their own ruination with them. Fwohoho.”

Face burning with humiliation, fury, and desperation, Murkrow could hardly collect his thoughts. A lick of a feather scattered them every time he tried to compose himself. Even managing to squeak out a few lines of begging between his laughter caused his lungs to ache from the effort.

If only Cofagrigus had never found out how ticklish he was under his wings; every other spot on his body was covered with such thick plumage that this would be ineffective. And his feet were firm enough to not feel much from feathers. But the monster had zeroed in on them right away.

And his wings were spread enough to leave his underarms stretched out. The smooth, taut skin let the feather tips glide back and forth smoothly, ruffling through his fluffy down along their way. He jerked his head from side to side as he struggled to cope with the onslaught of panicked signals that his nerve endings sent to his brain.

“KrawhawhawHAWHAW haw HAW HAAAHAW! OH PLEHEEEHEASE! NAHAHAAT THERE! ANYWHERE ELSE!”

“Why not? Afraid I might tickle you mad? Perhaps it’s too much?”

It stopped. Murkrow’s chest heaved while he sucked in air. His head twitched as he blinked tears out of his eyes. The hands Cofagrigus used to tickle him hung in the air, still clutching the feathers. He felt a brief flicker of hope that He had chosen to take pity on him.

“Do you think you can bear much more?” Cofagrigus asked in a cooing voice.

“No...” Murkrow whispered in a hushed breath.

“Well,” Cofagrigus smirked, spinning the feathers around in his hands to hold them by the pointed ends. “You have no choice. And you have a long, long time left to suffer.”

Murkrow’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the sharp quill tips. A sobbing noise choked up from his throat before he could get a word out. Tired though he was, the threat terrified him enough to get his body thrashing once more. He strained against the arms that pinned him as Cofagrigus took his time in lowering the ticklish tools to his frame.

“No, please! Don’t! Not under my wings! I can’t – KRAAAAAWK!”

The quills pricked the tingling flesh under his wings. Such a sudden, focused stimulus made him jerk so severely that his back arched up off the ground. It smashed back down just as quickly; screeching hysterics flooded from his beak.

“GWAHAHAHAAAWK!”

“Under your wings, over your stomach, at your sides, under your feet. There will be time to tickle every bit of you, bird. Your friends made sure of it. Gold bars galore.”

“PL-PLEASE!” he wheezed, the words breaking up in spurts of tortured howling. “I’LL PAY ANYTHING! EVERYTHING!”

“You can pay me whatever you’d like once your time is up. But until then...tickle tickle!”

He dragged the tips in long, continuous strokes around his underarms. Scraping them from the outside, at the very edges where his wings began, he circled them around to the soft centers. A mad scribbling following.

The pressure was never intense enough to hurt. It came close, but it never reached that point. All it did was tickle. It tickled so horribly that Murkrow wildly bucked under the strength of his captor’s arms. Even when he was certain that no strength remained in his sore muscles, they somehow found it in them to keep pushing.

“LEHEHEHET ME GOOOOO!”

Crying, spittle flinging from his beak, delicate musculature writhing, he yearned to pass out. Any relief from the tickling would be welcome. But he could hear Cofagrigus’ intentions in his measured tones, and he could see it in his eyes. A total lack of mercy.

Finally flicking the feathers aside, Cofagrigus squeezed Murkrow between all of his hands. They dragged the avian back into his sarcophagus body. When the lid slammed shut, darkness enveloped him.

“E-eh, what...” Murkrow said, startled.

His eyes were adept at seeing in the dark of night. But inside Cofagrigus, there was nothing to see. Nothing but inky black. That made the slightest touch magnitudes more intense than usual. Which meant Murkrow felt every wiggling finger as they squirmed over his body.

“N-no, not again! I c-caha-can’t!”

“You can. And you will -”

“Please! KRAHAWHAWHAHHHWK!”

Countless wiggling fingertips groped his little body. They scratched through his feathers, stroked his skin, kneaded his muscles. He felt them prod between his ribs. And he tried to kick when they played with his toes and petted the soles of his feet. There were so many. He was trapped inside with them, without even enough room to spread his wings.

Something coiled around the undersides of his wings and yanked them above his head. Something soft but a little coarse. Flat and wide. Bandages. They pulled his wings high above his head and wrapped them in a cocoon of fabric. And that left his small, trembling body completely vulnerable.

“I’ll let you out in due time. That nice, fat stack of gold your friends paid me tells me two, perhaps three days will suffice. Fwohohoho...”

“No! Noooooooo!”

“Your friends suffered a mere hour apiece. But you, you’re nowhere near finished. I’m sure it feels like it’s been so long, my friend. Do you know you are only now nearing the end of your first hour?”

In a state of ticklish delirium, Murkrow’s head swam. He could only hope that Cofagrigus was lying. It could not have only been an hour. Did he truly have days left? Inside the blackness of the sarcophagus, the passage of time melted away. All he could do was wait, laugh, and pray for the moment when the lid would open again.