Redhawk Caldera Bosses are bad, dude

Nightjar didn't know any of Towhee's tear-oh language, but he was sort of an expert when it came to regular body language, and her interest shone through. He smiled and said, "Dad had older kids from some other place before we were born. He used to tell us stories. I can't remember their names. One of them came by one day. I guess she tricked dad into thinking she wanted to meet us but really she just wanted to kill us. Wildfire was closest. Her neck got ripped up pretty bad." The last time he'd seen her, she still hadn't really recovered from that injury. Her voice had been raspy and quiet since the day it happened. Nightjar wondered if she still spoke that way, but figured he would never find out.

"Mom and Aunt Flea and Elwood were there, too," he recalled vaguely, "but dad just went in and ripped her head right off. Sprayed blood all over the place. It was the coolest thing I've ever seen." His memory was a little embellished from the real thing, but surprisingly, he remembered that day pretty well. His ability to recollect was about as shoddy as Fox's had ever been but that particular one stuck out. Probably because it was so traumatic, and had messed him up in his own way. From that point on he'd been completely desensitised to death. It was probably why the loss of his parents while he was away didn't bother him too much.

"Anyway, it's probably for the best you didn't really know them," he said offhandedly. "I think you'd have liked dad. He was really cool. Mom would've eaten you before you got to know him, though."