Pokémon Hunter, Haunted

[Sinderella]

Hi Canis, catnip review time. Obligatory I'm sorry for late, I need to stop doing this...Anywhozzies, on with the show!

There was a lot to unpack in this chapter, and I mean A. LOT. Good gods, I read it like 4 days ago and I'm still thinking about. We have SAMSON on the return, and while he's a bit too good and pure for my horny tastes, I felt really really goddamn bad for him in this chapter. Like...my man's literally did nothing wrong, he just wanted to see what was up with this jittery 18 year old with EXORCISM carved into his hand, and ended up with a knife to his throat. I feel even worse with the outside knowledge that he DOES have exorcism experience so he probably quite literally just wanted to help--however, I can't imagine that would have ended any better for Red; Joanna could have done some shit like she just did. Samson might have literally ended up dead instead of just with a knife to his throat. There's a lot of what-ifs but I STILL FEEL BAD.

As for Joanna all I can say is GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRLS TRICKING THEIR SCUMBAG MURDERERS, WE LOVE TO SEE IT. I hoped to hell the ENTIRE time that she was just yanking his chain and trying to get him to do some shit so she could pull a fast one on him AND SHE DID. What an iconic queen. Shantay you stay.

I am a little '.:( at the way the ending part of it played out, but that's only because I'm still on the fence about whether or not what happened was an illusion. I'm beginning to think not, and that maybe Joanna had him so focused on her that he didn't notice the cops coming in to get him, but it did seem a little over the top. I read it like a damn swat raid, and for an alleged murderer out in public, I feel like it'd be a little less...intense. Then she did say she'd been leaving evidence around, so I guess if whatever that evidence was pointed to the fact he'd killed MULTIPLE people and was set on doing it again, then maybe I could see it. My mind is so screwed because I'm just like "IS THIS REAL? IS THIS DEADASS?" and I guess I'd have to wait and see until the next chapter. Shit, for all I know, the psychiatrist called them on him? I have no idea rn, I have many a theory.

Either way, I am VERY hype for the next chapter; probably the most I've ever been. If he actually is arrested, then holy shit he's arrested, how the fuck is he getting out of this? And if all of that was a hallucination, then...damn my mans is never gonna be able to show his face in public ever again lmao. I guess we'll see.

Until next time my d00d :)

 

[TheWinterComet]

Here's my review for the Prologue (original).

The first thing that came to mind is some inconsistency in dash usage. Sometimes it’s double hyphens, sometimes it’s single hyphens, and in all instances, they are in places I would normally expect em dashes to be instead, which tripped me up.

Gods, did the room smell this bad the whole time? It's like something died in here. Oh, wait!

Killed me.

Sure, having a tarp set up in advance for the whole ritual would make cleaning easier, but I'm just not a fan of how it looks. Brings down the atmosphere.

The idea of a serial killer who causes more trouble for themselves and/or accidentally exposes themselves to authorities simply for The Aesthetic is top tier.

The detailed descriptions of the gore, the body disassembly, etc were all really interesting. Inherently, there’s a barrier for people more squeamish, but the more granular detail acted as a hook for the story, since it’s obviously not a common feature of most literature so it ends up being novel. In general, I’m always interested in shifts or concepts that can give me something new or rare, so the story has pull by that alone.

I'll also say I noticed an abundance of ellipses, especially in the first scene. It seemed to me like there were a lot of places that an ellipses was used where the might be other options for buffering space, such as one close to the beginning at the start of a paragraph where I think the paragraph break itself is fine enough.

There’s a section near the end of the prologue that switches to second-person, but still framed in the first-person of the story, and reading it initially threw me off. I understand the purpose of it, because it’s a direct thought from the perspective character speaking to himself, rather than a narrated thought in first person, but the transition is inherently light, which made it easy to assume at first that it was an error. I think if it were in first person entirely, it wouldn’t really lose any effect.

Even without context from the previous stories, I think the prologue succeeded in drawing me in, mostly from a special interest standpoint. Though the underlying story elements of doing this in the service of HIM exist, I think what I was mostly drawn to the unusual action of examining the body, the cleanup, and other elements of establishing this as a routine procedure in the eyes of the perspective character (noting that some things were out of place, like the uncooked flesh). More about the actual story draws my eye in the first chapter, but for the most part I was reading along from a lens of the action, rather than the character.

 

[TheWinterComet]

Here's my review for the first chapter, Just Another Day.

The juxtaposition of the end of the prologue has an interesting combination of both artifice (the idea that the non-murdery, human life is fake) and genuineness (that both are equally important and real to Red's psyche) that gives the opening scene of this chapter an odd vibe. I think that transition was the strongest element of the story at that point, even more so than the ritual motive for the actual murder, which I couldn't comment more on until I had more character context.

The self-argument over whether to buy the good shrimp or the bad shrimp is a solid moment. Especially for serial killer type characters, a lot of the intrigue in watching them operate is the paranoia and overthinking that comes with living a deceitful life, and it’s both humorous and interesting to see it extended to such a mundane scenario with seemingly no actual consequences.

The thought spiral into “I would like to mass murder this entire store” getting suddenly defused by the social interaction with the cashier was also intriguing (and again, hilarious). He clearly feels out of control of his own thoughts, and as seen in the prologue, obviously uses this as a shield for some of the morally reprehensible things he does, and the contradiction/tragedy of him seeing himself as a “victim” does make him more endearing as a character in a roundabout way. Knowing a character is fundamentally lying to themselves tends to be fun to watch.

Brilliant, authentic red to break up the phony, lifeless hues of capitalism.

I’m not sure mass murder is the best step to tear down late-stage capitalism, but I do like the motive.

Personally, I feel like there’s little reason that the prologue and first chapter should be separated. The ending of the first chapter (“her name was Joanna”) is a character point for Red, but obviously it’s not what sells the story premise. Therefore, while gripping, the “intrigue” of the prologue isn’t really the prologue itself but the shift to the more domestic scenario in the first chapter. Of course, this matters a lot less when both chapters are physically adjacent to each other on the thread page, but it was a thought I had.

And of course, the ending of this chapter is a musing cliffhanger. Obviously, it's a foregone conclusion from the summary, but still had impact nonetheless.

 

[Joshthewriter]

Chapter 4+5 Exchange is finally here!

I’ve said it before, you paint a picture with setting descriptions at times. Absolutely gorgeous depiction of the forest with words.

One thing that I absolutely love is that the narration follows Red off on tangents and really makes you sit in his mental space while you read it. I really really get a sense of Red’s internal voice in his offhanded musings. It also serves to give us an in-depth look at exactly how Red seems to operate.

I do like the fascination Red seems to have with beauty. Seems very in line with most serial killers.

I love, love, love to death the verbal chess match between Red/Michi. Him not trying to let on what he knows while simultaneously trying to suss out what Michi knows and get access to Joanna is such a great scene. I love shit like this.

OH SHIT RED WENT RIGHT FOR IT

Holy crap, it’s not an “action“ scene but you write it so effectively. It’s tense and disturbing and shifts the entire tone (which was itself already a little disturbing) towards complete horror. You do a great job with the tonal shifts and keeping the fic consistent with itself.

And just like that, Red is back in his element. He’s toying with Michi the entire time (he’s definitely killing her once he’s done). Honestly he’s a real creep the entire time and I really really felt the disgust with how much Red was enjoying torturing her.

Then as the transition to inside and Red goes real crazy prophet deranged. Honestly he loses me a bit here. But Red is definitely disappointed in himself that he thinks he failed HIM by leaving a yamask or something. He almost seems embarrassed by it.

Then Red descends even further as he begins the ritual. He gets almost animalistic near the end of the chapter as it goes further and further into the ritual. It’s such a bloody turn and it’s got such a brutal and direct tone in what’s been a relatively introspective fic until now. I think it works well. Red’s a monster. You’re just showing us how much of one.

CHAPTER 5

Red is almost coming out of a fugue state as the chapter begins. It’s very much jarring from his descent into bloodlust at the end of the last chapter.

Funny enough, he goes right back into that predatory state and the tone stays firmly rooted in a slasher film’s kind of horror. I love it and I am so here for this kind of story.

This time he seems almost like Dracula as he hunts Michi down (which also, he’s literally hunting a child wtf). I think the scene is well done and it’s again really creepy and disturbing to read something from the predator’s POV. Also kinda disturbing to read a child being murdered like this and I’ll be honest it goes a bit far for my liking.

However. Oh. My. God. HIM coming down sucked me right back in. I loved the eldritch horror dripping on ever mention of HIM. I wonder a little if it’s real or if Red is just fucking nuts but it’s entertaining either way.

Oh my goodness its such a great scene. So tense, so creepy. Red failing in the ascension (I think that’s what happened) is such a jarring shock to what has up to this point been a resounding success for Red.

Quite honestly, it was such a great scene that the rest of the chapter kind of fell a little flat. Maybe it was the intent to deflate from the high point of the failed ascension, but I felt like it kind of robbed that scene of the impact it would have otherwise had as a chapter ender.

 

[Pen]

10. Can't Remember

Been a while, but I'm back for the start of Part 3! And oh god, you really were not messing around with those warnings.

So, Red finally finds an explanation for his hallucinations. Being possessed by a ghost capable of messing with your thoughts and sensory perception is pretty scary--it says something about where Red's head-space is at that this actually comes as relief to him, because it means he hasn't been rejected by HIM. Ghost possession is a problem that can be solved; god rejection or being crazy isn't. But while this might be a relative step up for Red, it's still hugely distressing to experience. Even though Red is trying to keep an eye out for it, hallucinations keep taking over. I really enjoy the way you start them small and then escalate until Red realizes. The pidgey scene was a great example of that--one pidgey being able to repeat a few words it might have conceivably heard? Possible. The whole forest suddenly doing it? Not so much. What makes Red's hallucinations so terrifying, of course, is that they're not just visual. You really emphasize the tactile element and the result is shudderingly visceral. The 'Miki crawling out of his stomach' bit was . . . hard to stomach. I have to admit, when he was biting off those fingers, I really thought they were going to turn out to be his own fingers that he bit off, but we were spared that, at least.

I don't know if the sirens really were real or not, but Red's certainly running up the list of people who have seen him do siren-worthy things in public. Poor Abe. Red's go to the library plan does not seem like the best one, considering he's basically jumping from hallucination to hallucination--quiet public spaces are probably not his friend--but he is not exactly operating at peak capacity right now. (I also wasn't sure why he thought Miki would be in the cabin, but again, not peak apex capacity.)

All in all, a very unsettling chapter. The fact that he knows what's behind the hallucinations but still gets trapped within them is almost more frightening to imagine than the alternative.

Some line reacts:

I was going to carve my own face off? Holy shit. Why did I think that? That’s insane.

The king of self-awareness is crowned.

MADE YOU
LOOK.

And a drawing of a dick.

Red finally meets his match.

No, they’re there. Just a meter higher where they used to be, hovering.

Anxiety and uncertainty over how I’ll get rid of them now freezes me in place, but to my great relief, they begin moving away. Though, hey, they can’t just… leave. They’re evidence.

This moment somehow manages to be funny amidst all the horror. Maybe it's just the mental image of Red indignantly trotting after a pair of disembodied fingers.

"Fuck you!" it chirps. "Fuck you!"

Preach, little pidgey.

Exorcism.

The pidgeotto turns to dust, spreading in the air and dissipating.

That proves it. That proves this was the word Joanna didn't want me to remember!

Ooh, interesting to have what he sees and experiences be the battlefield his thoughts play out on.

 

[Pen]

11. Got You Now

Whew, another chapter that was both a slow, tense read and yet flew by. I was on edge during the whole perilous library journey. The whole time it's waiting for the shoe to drop as Red comes into contact with more and more people. Whiting out the pages was such a good move on Joanna's part--simple but so effective. When Red grabbed Samson, I thought he was going to ask Samson to read him the pages out-loud, but of course, Red's mind runs along simple tracks that incline themselves much more towards threats. I'm not sure how he expected that to all end, even if he did successfully get the pages read without the cops coming. At least by asking Samson for help reading them he might have a future sympathetic witness--oh, he was just so desperate to get rid of the mean ghost in his head. Instead, Red went for the option that led to a lot of incriminating talk.

The conversation with Joanna was really interesting. The end makes it seem like she was just stalling for time, but it is a fascinating thought that she'd be picking up on Red's way of approaching the world. His brief moment of hesitation at the thought that wait, if she thought like him she'd be like him, and he wouldn't be alone, was one of those surprisingly gutwrenching/pathetic moments you pull out on occasion in his narration. Of course, it's not enough for him to turn down a free stab, but the pause was telling.

I was expecting disaster from the moment he conceived this library plan, but I like how well things went until they didn't. Red getting his moment of triumph realizing the cops were an illusion and still counting, before the cops showing up as not an illusion worked really well. Excited to see where all this goes. Samson was always Chekov's arcean priest--I imagine he'll have a big role to play going forward. Not the least as the primary witness for the prosecution . . .

a standing ovation for a new record in time between chapters everyone. five months.

Hey, I took five years once. Life happens.

I also realized that carving the word ‘exorcism’ into my hand would cause it to bleed.

Oops!

I hold on to that positivity as I begin my treacherous journey to the library.

Lines you only ever get in Red narration.

The woman’s getting closer. In just a few seconds, we’ll pass each other. Oh Gods. I prepare myself for anything while still attempting to appear casual. Time seems to slow down. Oh, Gods, just go. Go past me already. Please…

She does.

She passed me. She did nothing.

This feels like the social anxiety video game.

And I can't kill that many people that fast.

Yeah, that's the only problem with that plan.

And that one moves with swagger. Fonz walks like he's sorry about his size.

Nice bit of characterization.

No, no, it doesn't matter what they're doing as long as it's not passing out posters of my face with 'dead or alive' written underneath.

I chuckled.

This is Joanna’s fault, isn’t it? She made me forget I needed to keep that hand hidden!

The one upside to all this is that Red has someone to blame for all of his mistakes.

The black rug beneath gives a spongy squeak for each of my steps. Disgusting. I’ll destroy it all once ascension comes.

Lmao. Priorities!

I flip a page. The next opening is also blank. No 183, no 184. Only white.

Ooh, that's very smart of her.

While it falls to the ground, I throw my arm around Samson’s shoulders, draw out the knife and bring the blade to his throat.

Only good ideas here.

Right ahead, a few meters away, floats a magneton. Stuck to one of its magnets, my knife.

Cool worldbuilding detail and makes a lot of sense.

 

[bluesidra]

Okidokie, I'm caught up again! It’s been a blast reading these two chapters, even though I lowkey thought hh ended on the “The Mareep,” because it was just such a perfect cut off point (pun intended).

"Can't remember" sees our valiant hero begin to suffer from visual hallucinations, too. Poor boy is really going through all the symptoms of a psychotic episode that the DSM5 has to offer. Which means he is now also second guessing everything he sees, and it doesn’t make his paranoid state any better. Like, before this, he would argue away any sort of help with either his faith or his criminal record, but now he wouldn’t even believe in someone providing him help in the first place. Red, my boy, please take your anti-psychotics.

I'm still so torn between reading everything that's happening as is and reading HH as a scary but empathetic case study on dark triad personality types and an acute mental breakdown. In the second case, Joanna would maybe represent the guilt he’s suppressed until now coming through to berate him, and coax him into turning himself in.

If not, if this is really a case of possession, then Red has probably found the one worst book on exorcisms in the entire universe. As far as I remember, he followed the steps on how to get rid of yamask more or less closely.

And I had quite the difficulties making sense of Joanna. She’s the first thing that’s not born from Red’s very crooked perception or biases. Like, so far, whenever his actions started to spiral out of his control (like when he murdered Michi) it felt in line with his general character. Like he just lost control of his impulses. And in the vision/delusion about the end of the world he saw other people besides him fall victim to it (it was a very public scene, on a first glance not targeted on him). But Joanna is very much only interested in him and is antagonistic to him. Which is… different from all the other whack shit he’s gone through so far. Idk, I feel like I don’t describe this correctly and am missing a point by just a few inches…

But yee, Joanna. Whether ghost or hallucination, she’s cool! She’s witty and quick on her feet, and has her own streak of self-serving cruelty, which she later quite correctly remarks on.

The episode where Red feels Michi trying to get out of his stomach is very descriptive. My first and second thoughts were “somewhere someone on the internet is getting off to this.” But as it kept going, I found myself more and more gripped by how severely Red was impacted by it and how he decided to handle it. When he bit off her fingers I was 95% sure he just bit off his own tongue, and the 5% insecurity were only from knowing how much that would inconvenience the plot moving forward.

And the pidgey were just straight up cute. Such dirty language, tsk tsk tsk… But the scene where Red talks to the pidgey was almost like a little heartbreak, because it shows that he can be affectionate. He doesn’t think one bad thing about the pidgey and is genuinely happy when his scritches make it happy. He also seems to have a hand for pokemon in general, seeing how he easily gets it to hop on his hand. And then, when he’s in the library and confronted with people again, he’s back to hating everyone

Jumping ahead a few lines, but in the same vein there’s the line “someone else like me?” which shows even more that he isn’t incapable of emotional connection and even craves them. He just doesn’t know a way to connect with the people he’s surrounded by. Sometimes I want to hug him (he wouldn’t want to be hugged).

Oh, and there’s this instance where he gets really defensive when Joanna implies HE isn’t real, that just goes to show how fragile his own conviction has become and how much he clings to the thought of HIM being real. Then he goes to far lengths to assure himself that the rituals wouldn’t have worked if HE wasn’t watching over him, and I felt so bad for him, because, well, just because a magic tome you found somewhere works doesn’t mean your deity is real.

“Got you now” is the one chapter where I was thoroughly gripped. It is, basically, a high stakes action scene after all. But it also features Samson, which is a quality enhancing feature to any chapter.

Oh, how I wished Samson would have been able to just talk Red down when they first bumped into each other and take him to the hospital and get him treated. But alas… Well, instead I get really considerate hostage-keeper!Red, which is the best consolation prize there is.

I was kinda surprised though that the blue-scarfed group was not the same “have you seen Joanna”-group we met at the beginning in front of the supermarket. But I guess that would have freaked Red out too much.

This chapter was so tense! I had to stop listening when he was being bugged by the bug-shelf monster because I arrived at work, and five hours later I could still tell what page he was on. Those page numbers, man… they really really worked.

And then the twimst about the chapter title! I really didn’t think Joanna would have the last laugh in this. Red being escorted to the police car and grappling with the reality he just found himself in was really hard. I can’t wait to see what comes next! Because in that moment, I started to wonder what would happen if he was given a high dosage of anti-psychotics and think clearly again. Dealing with all that he has done and reevaluating it must be one giant task!

I’ve seen your announcement on hh possibly going on hiatus, but I hope you manage one or two chapter until next blitz. I’m looking forward to it!

 

[canisaries]

hello everybody! it's been a while, almost a year. but this time the wait was at least partially intentional so it doesn't count. i've been recovering from my terrible mental health episode and a few days ago i finally found myself ready to pick this story up again - yep, a few days! it's record time for a new chapter, though i have to be honest and say that's because i barely changed anything in this revision. we're at the point where the writing's new enough to be the way i want it. i wouldn't be surprised if i got the next one done in another few days, buuut i won't promise anything.

anyway, strap in, because you're in for a wild ride. this chapter is rated mature for blood, graphic violence, violence against a minor, body horror and vomit. it's the most graphic it's been since the prologue, and i wouldn't have it any other way. thanks for waiting. enjoy.

---

CHAPTER TWELVE
The Skin

---​

“Is it always so dark in here?”

I don’t know why I said that. My voice is shaky and my heart’s still pounding in my ears. I guess talking makes me feel like I have at least a little control over my situation.

But the arcanine sitting across from me provides no answer. The space for a reply is merely filled by the rumble and hum of the police van as the mon continues to stare at me with its dark but vigilant eyes. At the front of the van, the rest of the police squad stay just as silent as the RK9.

I lean back onto the wall. The white block protruding from it doesn’t make for a terribly comfortable seat. The discomfort isn’t helped by my cuffed hands forcing an awkward curve to my back.

I guess it really is dark in here, though. There’s no source of illumination save for the tiny gridded windows at the front and the back. Through their little square holes, the blue of the outside sky shines in, casting its faint, cold light on me and the mutt.

Alright. I don't know how long this ride is going take as I don't exactly know where I’m being taken, but I do know that it's someplace I really don't want to be. Then again, I suppose there's a scale to it. If I’m taken somewhere I can still possibly run away from, that's a small bad thing. If they're taking me straight to jail, that's a bigger bad. If they take me to a chair with cords coming out of it…

No, they have to take me somewhere before those latter two. Everyone gets a trial, right? And I don't even know how much evidence they have - they might not have enough, or at least not enough for the worst punishment for each of my crimes combined. Though considering that'd be several lifetimes, just one step down from that won't be too much help.

And there's still the issue of the ghost in my head. If they don't have enough on me yet, she'd surely be glad to give them all they need via my own vocal chords.

I shudder, causing the metal cuffs to chafe into my wrists, which in turn makes me grunt in discomfort.

“Where are we even going?” I ask, fully prepared for just more silence.

“We’ll be there soon,” says the arcanine, surprisingly enough. Her eyes are fixed on the window on the front. Oh, no need to actually pay attention to me. It’s not like I’m a serial killer or anyone important.

“Yes, but where?”

No answer. Back to this, I see.

“Where?” I demand.

The arcanine reacts this time, but only by rolling her eyes.

Oh, I’m a joke to you? Just an annoyance? I killed nine people. Eight of them I ripped apart and ate parts of. I stalked them all for weeks and made them vanish without a trace. I’m a cold-blooded killer, show some goddamn respect! Awareness of the situation! If I wasn’t cuffed, I’d have my hands around your stupid bitch neck! And that I did not intend for that pun!

An itch crawls onto my temple. Dammit, not now! I don’t have anything to scratch that… couldn’t you have appeared during any of the countless moments I’ve had with my hands free? Fuck, it’s getting stronger…

The arcanine gives me a strange look as the left side of my face severely twitches in a vain effort to ease the itch. Great, now I look like a stereotype. And the itch isn’t going.

I lean my head to the side, reaching for the shoulder. I rub the side of my face on it, but it’s too low to reach the itchy spot. Maybe the wall? I turn to it, but quickly decide not to try my luck with it. Who knows what kind of filthy people they’ve held in here. I don’t want any of the microbes squirming on this wall in my healing wound.

The hum of the motor lowers in pitch, and I’m pushed towards the front of the car. We’re slowing down. We stop.

Well, that was a short ride… I guess that’s good news for me, since I don’t think the worst places to end up in are near my neighborhood.

Seatbelts are unfastened, car doors opened, steps taken outside. The doors of the back swivel apart, letting in the outside light intense enough to draw my eyelids almost all the way shut. Between my lashes, black figures begin to take shape over the white. Black, then blue, then composed of many colors. One with reddish brown around its head leans in.

“Was he nice?” it asks. It’s a she, and a she with a voice I recognize. She was at the beach. She’s the red-haired policewoman. I glance at the arcanine, which now has stood up. I guess it’s the same one from then. Explains its attitude.

“Nice enough,” replies the mon as it leaps down onto the street. Its mane and tail catch the wind, beginning a fluttering dance. Yes, you’re so majestic, catching the bad guys, all heroic, we get it.

The red-haired woman climbs in, shoes clanking on the metal floor, and gestures to me to get up. “Okay, buddy, let’s go.”

She’s smiling. Why is she smiling? I’m not a kid, I’m not a victim, yet her tone is so sweet. I was nice to her before, yes, but her opinion on me has to have changed after the information she now knows. So is she… mocking me? Is that what’s happening?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. The time for possibly my only chance of escape is nearing and succeeding is priority number one.

I take my time standing up, letting my eyes adjust to the brightness. The view outside sharpens, revealing more cops. Quite a lot of cops. All their eyes are on me. My breathing gets shakier as the woman places her hand on my arm, the touch startling the limb.

I walk to the edge of the floor and hop off, the woman escorting me the whole way. I look around. Every side seems to have an equal amount of people. Beyond them, plain woods surrounding this opening and some large, white building. Looks like there’s no crevice in the crowd for me to slip through… yet, at least.

“Is everything ready?” someone asks.

“Should be, yeah,” another answers. I hope I don’t have to stick around to find out what they mean.

The cops’ faces turn - simultaneously, unsettlingly enough - to what lies ahead. We begin to head for the white building about a dozen meters away. Pretty bland looking, as this concrete cuboid seems to only have one door and not a single window. Is it some kind of storage? And where is the street? I look back, only to see a solitary asphalt road surrounded by more wavering trees. Is this a back entrance, or…

“Where am I?” I ask the redhead still by my side as we begin to move.

She gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, we’re here to help.”

Help…? How do you… help someone like me? Why would you?

This isn’t right. This is all wrong. Nothing makes sense. I need to get away, get the hell away from here before they drag me in through that door. I have a feeling that if I enter it, I won’t ever be coming out. And if I will, I won’t be doing so as the same man.

I keep my head still while I glance to my left. There’s a gap between two officers. My jaw tightens. It isn’t the best opportunity, but I know I won’t be able to forgive myself if I don’t try it and a new one never comes.

I try to calm my breathing, relax my shoulders, slow down my heartbeat. It has to be out of the blue. I blink. I’m normal. Yeah, I’m normal.

“Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi...” sings a pidgey somewhere. “Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-”

I ram my foot into the woman’s shin. As she recoils, I bolt for the gap. The surprised faces of the cops sweep past, then it’s just the spruces in front of me. I hear shouts from behind, but nothing touches me. Did I do it? I think I did it! I just need to make it to the woods and lose them --

Why are my wrists heavy?

They’re getting heavier. It’s the cuffs, they don’t want to follow me. I try to pull them closer but I just slow down, they’re even heavier and I can’t move, shit, no, no!

The spruces ahead, their sweet gate of freedom, are no longer approaching. My feet brush against the asphalt below in vain.

“Let me go!” I scream, yanking on my hands, the wrists rubbing against the cuffs frozen in midair. Then they move. Backwards. The trees recede. The fuck’s going on?

The force pulling on the cuffs only strengthens. I’m drawn back and no attempts at stopping myself are helping. My shoes just keep skidding on the ground as helplessly as the hooves of a deerling on ice.

The cops and the building return to my sight. I’m right where I started. Two men come at my sides, grabbing onto my arms. I struggle with fuck all results.

“Good job, Magnus,” I hear someone say behind me. I look over my shoulder to see one cop patting the back of a proud magneton. The same magneton that disarmed me at the library. Son of a bitch. This ugly thing keeps fucking up my plans...

“Come on, let’s go,” says the man to my right and tugs me towards the building. I give him a wrathful stare, standing my ground. He sighs. “Alright then.”

He and his partner grip my arms tighter and begin to drag me, my back to our destination. I try to anchor myself but find no success. I’m not getting away. Oh fuck, it’s hitting me, I’m not getting away.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask the cops following us, voice near to breaking.

Their eyes all shoot at me, and they open their mouths. “We’re here to help,” they respond in unison.

I’m not going to ask anymore.

Okay. Okay. This is weird, but it can’t be so bad, right? This is Kanto, a civilized state. A democracy, a free region. They can’t do anything inhumane to me. That’s forbidden by law.

But they’re cops. They are the law. They decide the law. They have the power. They can do anything. Who’s going to stop them?

A creak arises from behind. We’ve reached the door.

As I’m pulled inside, the first thing I see is a closet by the doorframe. It's as white as the walls of the room, though really everything’s dimmed to more of a gray from the lack of indoor lighting. It all darkens even further after the last cop of the group, having entered, begins to shut the door.

When the room has gone pitch black, the men dragging me take a sharp turn. With a click, the room illuminates again. I’m pushed onto my feet and let go. I twist around, taking in the new surroundings with haste.

I’m still in the same room, but now I see how large it is, and how… unbalanced. Most of the room is as blank as the building’s exterior, white walls broken up by only a few doors and the closet, but the front of the room...

Elegant arches. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the high roof, carpet of red velvet on the floor. Paintings of beautiful men, women and mon on the walls. Golden vine-like decorations running up and down all surfaces.

In front of all this, right next to me, a snow-white sheet covers something immobile and human-sized. Someone standing behind the whole thing. A man. Now he’s moving. He’s stepping into view. I see his face, his tall bulky figure, his pale hair and gray eyes and I realize who it is.

“What’s he doing here?” I demand from the policemen, but they’ve all turned away from me - towards the closet. The clacks from their shoes fill the room as they form a line in front of it. One by one, they open its door, pull out some kind of long, white garment and return to their spots.

I look back at Samson. He has one of those garments as well, hung around his arm. With that arm’s hand, he holds a leather-covered book opened in the middle. With the other hand, he fidgets with the spiny golden wheel of his necklace.

Golden...

I study the decorations of the room more closely. They too are golden and spiny with green gems embedded in them here and there.

This is an Arcean chapel.

Samson snaps the book shut and hands it to the red-haired policewoman. “Alright,” he announces, facing the crowd of cops. “We all appear to be present. Let us begin.”

A wave of swooshes rolls over the room as all its inhabitants - sans me, the arcanine and the magneton - put on their garments, which I now see to be robes. Everyone but Samson has their hood on, hiding their face, but the redheaded woman remains recognizable afterwards due to her locks peeking out.

The Arcean locks eyes with me. His face stays neutral, but those eyes… he really doesn’t like me. I guess that makes sense after I held him at knifepoint and all that.

But that’s kind of where the sense making ends. Why was I brought to an Arcean chapel? Do they want me to hear a sermon on how murder is bad before they cart me off to prison? Does he want me to hear one and the cops are just going along with it for laughs?

“Sister Ronnie,” he says, prompting the woman to step up to the sheet-covered mystery object. “Please.”

Her delicate hands pinch the fabric and pull off the covering in one swoop.

It’s a board. Upright. Wooden, painted pure white. On it, two, four, six, eight, ten straps, symmetrically placed. White leather, golden buckles.

It’s not a sermon they’re planning.

I’m not staying here. I’m not staying here.

I turn and run, run for the door, into the sea of robed humans. Their arms rise, their hands grab onto me, but I don’t care, I have to get out.

“Move aside,” a robotic voice rises from the audience. All fingers suddenly let go, as if I had a deadly disease --

Pain! Fuck, it hurts! Stop! Stop!

The world has turned on its side. My limbs are thrown around like I was caught in a hurricane - no, four hurricanes, all in different directions.

It stops. My limbs still jitter. I can’t see right. Everything’s a mess. Is something touching me? Am I being dragged? I try to struggle, but I’ve forgotten how to move… some seconds pass, I think, I don’t think I can trust my sense of time right now. I hear speech, muddled, my chest is cold, I can see something, I can feel again… I’m… I’m… I’m on the board!

My jacket is gone, my shirt is open, my chest is exposed… th-they’re really going to do it!

“L-l-let me g-go!” My words come out slurred as I’m still relearning how to pilot my tongue. It’s not helped by the belt is pressing against my larynx. There’s one for my forehead, too, making me unable to turn my head properly. I feel so blind.

“Gods, Magnus, how hard did you shock him?” someone mutters in the crowd.

Magnus. The magneton. How many times will it destroy my chances of escape? I hate it! When I ascend, I’m going to seek out every one of its kind and --

Oh fuck. I’m not going to ascend. Because I’m here and I’m going to die. I’m going to die! But I can’t die. This is not how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to live forever, I was supposed to bring about the new world, but now, now I’ll die before I can, I’m going to be dead! I’ll never see the Judgment happen, I’ll never see HIM again, I’ll never see my home again, I’ll never see Him again, I-I’ll never hold Him --

“Brothers, sisters!” booms Samson, shattering my deafness to the outside world. His back is to me, his arms raised in the air, the robe’s sleeves resembling wings. “Today, we have seized the beast. Praise be to Arceus!”

“Praise be to Arceus!” echoes the crowd, raising their hands towards the ceiling.

The Arcean brings his hands to his heart. “But,” he begins with a sorrowful tone, “while this is a joyous occasion for us and the rest of the world, we mustn’t forget the many victims of this monster’s crimes, the innocent lives lost to the ravenous jaws of this horrid creature. May Arceus soothe their souls and guide them to paradise, may he bless and comfort their families. Truly.”

“Truly,” responds the crowd, bowing their heads.

“Let us have a minute of silence,” declares Samson and bows his head as well. In a snap, all noises cease, all motion freezes, except for my panicking breath and heart.

So they knew? They knew about me all along? They watched me, waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting for my first and last mistake. And today they noticed such a moment, and they sent in Samson undercover, is that right? All that bullshit about him wanting to help, that was a ruse to get close to me!

And it actually worked… and now they finally have me. And they’re going to kill me. They’re going to cut my heart right out of my chest, I bet! These people want to see me suffer. These people want to drink from the chalice of justice filled with my blood.

Justice… what a drug to the mareep. What a sweet high it gives them to perpetuate their mindless norms and standards, to celebrate the culling of the misfits! They speak of righteousness when they mean conformity!

These pathetic creatures! Crowning each other every day for being so unquestioning! Spitting on the eons nature spent handcrafting them to survive! And here they execute the one meant to thrive, the rightful heir of this world!

If I only had the power… their brains would paint the walls pink...

Itch. Left temple, again. No, now is an even worse time! A-and another, in the lower back? Gods!

My fingers twitch, my biceps tug at the wrists fastened down below... it’s so uncomfortable, but I can’t do shit about it! Couldn’t I at least die without feeling like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under my skin?

The itch spreads. Oh fuck. It’s in my sides, my shoulders, my neck, everywhere. I’m trembling. It’s not getting better. A growl leaves my throat.

“A minute has passed.”

With Samson’s words, it’s like I’m awakened. The itch has released its grasp of me. Blood rushes to my skin freely, relaxing my muscles. Weird, but I’m not complaining.

“Now we may begin.” Samson faces me. Oh shit. Nevermind, I’m complaining.

His glare is full of contempt. “You, Beast! You have done much evil. You have torn innocent women from their lives. Tortured them and desecrated their bodies in unholy rituals for the demon you call your god.”

Demon? Demon?

“Better a demon than a fucking pony!” I snap, but he ignores me.

“Arceus has witnessed your despicable deeds. He has sent us, his loyal followers, to rid this earth of your wickedness.”

My stomach turns. That's how sickening his words are, this whole situation is. I snarl.

“Yet there is something that must be done before that,” Samson continues. “A life that can still be saved.”

My stomach turns again. Wait, no. It’s not nausea. I know this feeling, this distortion. This is...

“Sister Ronnie,” Samson calls. The woman soon walks into my sight. She holds something in her hands, something shiny… something metallic. Samson picks it up. It’s a long-bladed knife. They’re going to… oh fuck, they’re really going to…

The lump in my gut swells. It squeezes my lungs from underneath. It gets harder to breathe - every inhalation stings. From the bottom of my vision, I can see my abdomen bloat, its skin stretch…

A whine arises from within. Something presses onto my insides, squishing my organs to abnormal shapes.

“Stop, stop!” I grit my teeth. How impotent must my digestive fluids be not to have melted this brat to mush by now?

“Do not fear, child,” Samson says, approaching. “You will finally be free.”

He raises the knife, its blade sparkling in the chandeliers’ crystal-reflected light. Oh fuck. This is going to hurt.

“Now lean back, child. I do not want you to get harmed.”

He jams the blade below my ribs. Hot blood spurts out, blinding pain floods my nerves. I scream. It’s deep! It rips even more of me apart, traveling down to my navel, past it, stop!

They pull the metal out. My screaming breaks up into agonized breathing. I feel too bare. Organs aren’t meant to be exposed like this. Too much blood is leaking out.

A small arm slips out of the wound, smeared with blood and stomach contents. Its fingers curl, reaching out for something to grab onto. The sour stench of vomit wrinkles my nose.

Samson offers his hand to the child, undeterred by the goop it's covered in, and she grasps it. He pulls on it, tearing the edges of my wound apart as the rest of her begins to leave my body.

“No… no, no, no…” I can only whimper.

Pink hair appears. I hear a weak gasp. A gasp for fresh air, a gasp of freedom.

But she shouldn’t be free. She doesn't deserve to be free. Curled up inside a cauldron of acid, locked behind bars of bone, that is the fate that belongs to her. She needs to suffer for all the trouble she’s brought me. She needs to be digested.

Another yank, and her brown coat is visible. Another, and her jeans show - another, and she tumbles down onto the floor. I’m so incredibly hollow now. The emptiness is screaming…

All the blood spilt has now dyed the front of Samson’s white robe a sticky crimson. He crouches down and helps mucky little Michi up. I can see her right hand missing two fingers.

She turns around. Her pale blue eyes glare at me, furious but victorious. I respond with an equally furious stare.

Samson steps forward, no doubt to show off his shining armor once more - but is stopped by Michi raising of her arm.

“This is it for you, Houndoom,” she says, letting the arm drop. “You're finally going to get what’s been coming to you for years.”

“Get back in,” I breathe, shaking from the pain of my gaping wound. Even with that agony, I want her back, need her back. It feels like she'd even fix it. “You belong in there. You are my prey.”

Michi looks back at Samson, who’s still holding the bloody knife. “I’m done with him. You can get back to your ceremony now.”

She heads for the door. Seeing her back turned to me, seeing her get away… I need to chase her, hunt her down. The instinct is awakened. I need to do what my nature tells me to do…

But no struggling, twitching, flailing is getting me off this board. I can’t get away. I’m forced to watch my prey walk out right in front of me, just meters away from the stomach it should be filling, the thirst it should be quenching. All while my body bleeds out, all while these mareep gawk at my pain, my humiliation, my death…

This can't be how it ends. This can’t all have been for nothing. I didn’t train myself, restrain myself for years to just… die. This can't be how it ends!

But what can I do? I can’t do anything! I’m just a weak little human with flimsy limbs and dull teeth. This body is so pathetic. How can it be so pathetic? I have the mind of a bloodthirsty beast, but the body… where is my rightful body?

The body… the body was there when I ate her.

That body is what made it possible. That body had the teeth and the claws that caught her and the throat that squeezed her down. And that body, where it came from - it was this skin, this disguise, and it must still be there.

I wheeze just a bit. It's a wheeze of laughter.

Michi stops. She looks over her shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just so silly how simple it all really is...”

“Sure, okay.” She resumes her walking.

I focus on my right hand. Its soft flesh, tidy fingernails. Such an adorable little hand. But it’s false.

My fingertips split with ten spurts of blood as curved, needle-sharp talons reveal themselves.

The audience steps back, some members gasping. Samson’s eyes open wide. “The Beast...” he whispers, voice trembling.

Michi has frozen.

“You thought you could make me forget?” I continue. “You thought you could convince me I was just a lowly human?”

She's beginning to fear. I can see it, smell it. For six heartbeats, she stays as silent and still as the rest of the room - then she faces Samson.

“Kill him.”

Samson flinches, as if he’d just now remembered he had the knife. He steps closer. “This is the end, Beast,” he tensely says, raising the knife.

Something aches at the very bottom of my spine. Right on cue. It’ll make for a nice, flashy way to showcase my power.

The vertebrae multiply, extending my spine so rapidly that it tears right through my skin and jeans. The newborn tail rears its tip like a serpent about to strike. The arrow-shaped end glistens with my blood and its own sheer sharpness.

Samson takes a step back like the coward he is, but being a fool as well, stands his ground. Hiding behind the knife, he gathers up the courage for another strike and finally lunges for my heart.

But guess who’s faster.

The wonderful noise of flesh and organs being skewered rings out around the room. Samson’s pale blue eyes, bulging out of their sockets in shock and pain, flick back and forth between my face and the black appendage inserting into his abdomen.

I can’t help smirking. “Guess those prayers weren’t much help after all.”

I yank back the tail. The tip slices through even more tissue on its way out of the man’s body. He collapses onto his knees, dropping the knife and gasping for air. The crown of his head, covered with his golden hair, points right at me. I guess I should finish him off, make sure he doesn’t sneak up on me later with that knife.

“Hey, pony boy.”

He raises his head, eyes full of terror. With one swift swing of my tail, I slash across his throat. Red fluid gushes out, depriving his brain of the oxygen it needs. He opens his mouth to gasp once more, like a magikarp on dry land, then falls down on his face, silent. An ever-growing pool of blood forms underneath.

I bring the tip of my tail to my mouth and lick in a bit of the blood. The taste is energizing, appetizing, back to the way it should be. Deep in my throat, new teeth begin to form.

“Father!” screams the red-haired woman as she dashes to Samson’s limp body. It should be obvious he’s dead by now, but still the woman has to flip him over and take a good look at his cleaved neck and empty eyes before she gets the picture.

Finally, she snatches the knife and jolts up. Her green eyes drill into my own with rage. “You bastard!”

Blade raised, she charges at me. She hasn’t learned a thing from her leader’s mistake. I suppose I can use her to test my strength in a different way.

The straps on my right arm loudly snap as the limb yanks itself free. I shove the palm right onto the woman’s face and squeeze. As her skull crackles, she drops the knife and latches onto my hand with her own. Her tugs and scratches are like a little bug’s. Those and her whimpers… so adorable.

With one crushing contraction, her whole head caves in. It crumples like paper, if paper oozed blood and gray matter. Her skull feels like eggshell within my grasp. The yolk drips down to the floor.

I toss her corpse aside. It thumps down right next to Samson’s and no longer moves.

Through my bloodied talons, I glare at the audience. “Does anyone else want to try?”

Frantic steps and cries fill the room. They all race for the door. They think they can run. Cute.

Oh, the itch is back, back in my left forearm. I pull the arm free and raise it in front of my face. Aside from the psychic protection seal carved onto the forearm, nothing seems off about the skin. Whatever’s causing it must be from beneath. Well, let’s find out!

I stick a talon into the skin. It singes, but I no longer need to fear pain. I swipe the claw down regardless. Blood squeezes out, but there’s something else, something black… black fur. Sticking out like grass from a crack in the asphalt.

Oh, I get it… I get it! The body has developed further! It’s been growing within, incubated by my old skin. Now it has its own, and a coat of fur to top it off. Makes sense, houndoom have fur. I was personally more of a fan of the skinless version, but perhaps this one leaves less of a mess behind…

More itching. It’s everywhere now. Every inch of skin has hair beneath, wanting to get out. Well, I have no reason to keep it in!

I hook my claws on the edges of my abdominal wound. Fuck, this is going to hurt, but it’s all for the sake of evolution.

I pull the edges apart. The skin tears, splits further, exposing more of the bloody black fur. Every fiber broken screams at me, screams at me to stop, and I scream with them, but all of it comes from a lesser being. To the beast, pain means nothing! The new mouth in my throat already snarls, gnashes its teeth, waiting to get out!

The crowd still panics and stampedes in place. It seems they’re all trying to get through the door at the same time, jamming it… of course they are! They’re herd animals! And there are the arcanine and magneton herding them, circling them, keeping them together. Good, good! Keep them gathered up like that! That way I can kill more efficiently! But to take care of personal business first...

“Michi!” I call, voice inhuman, monstrous. Where is she? There, at the edge of the crowd! She glances at me from the sea of robes, eyes sparkling with tears, desperately pushing onto the people blocking her way out. So small, such a runt, such a sweet little snack!

“Look at it!” I roar, spreading my arms wide. “Look at my true body! Remember it well, as after I get you… you’ll only see the inside!”

Oh? The itch has spread to the last place it hasn’t spread yet - my throat. The snout inside is furred now, completed. It’s time for me to pry myself off this board and abandon my human skin once and for all. The hour of the Beast has come.

I grab the sides of the board and push my body forward. The remaining belts, on my forehead, neck and legs, squeak as they’re stretched nearer and nearer to breaking. My remaining human skin is drying up, hardening, crackling. My heart beats faster, louder, stronger! My lungs draw deeper breaths than they're ever drawn before! I’m ready! I’m so ready! I’m doing it, doing it, now!

Rip!

…

...Wh-what?

No heartbeat.

No breathing, either.

My head hasn't moved. The belt is still on my forehead, my viewpoint is the same. The people are still panicking, shoving each other to the direction of the door…

But my arms aren't there. My legs aren't there. Nothing below my neck is there. Where has it all gone?

Black hairs pop into the bottom of my vision. There's something fuzzy there. It rises, grows.

It's a back. Two arms. A neck. A head. All at least twice the size of mine.

It growls, making the earth tremble from the sheer power of the noise. Two growths extend from its skull, reaching for the roof. They curve, sharpen. Horns.

Fast as a thunderbolt, the beast leaps forward, landing right next to the crowd. Before the people can even react, the creature has shoved its horns through a few’s backs, impaling them.

Screaming. Swipes of talons, sinking of teeth, stabbings via tail. The white robes turn red, and the people fall like crops to a scythe.

It's playing out exactly as it should - but without me.

I’ve been left behind.

Oh shit. That means… that means it has my organs. My heart, my lungs. I don’t have anything. I’m only a head. I’m going to die. I’m going to die and nothing can stop it!

How long do I have? How many seconds before consciousness leaves?

The room brightens with orange as the arcanine fires a blast at the beast, but the creature merely dashes through the flames and grabs the mon by its snout. The arcanine whimpers once before it’s flung to a wall, muzzle dyed red.

An ear-splitting, metallic screech follows. The magneton is caught in the beast’s jaws, the mon’s steel shell currently bent as the pressure of the bite is too much. Sparks fly out. Soon after, the beast drops the flattened metal mon to the floor with a clunk.

There seem to be no more humans in the room to kill. None except one.

On the opposite wall, a small figure cowers, shivering. She must have snuck there during the commotion. Now she’s creeping along to wall to a better hiding spot, desperately hoping she won’t be noticed.

A dull ache forms in my brain. Oh fuck. There it is. Death. It’s approaching like a stalking predator and I have nowhere to run.

The beast raises its snout towards the ceiling. A long, loud, wailing howl arises from between its sharp teeth. But it’s cut short - the arcanine has gotten back up and tackled the beast to the floor. The black-furred creature snarls and drives its talons into the arcanine’s neck. The mon jolts in pain, showing the whites of its eyes, then limply collapses. The beast stands up, victorious.

It twists its neck around to face me - like a noctowl, but even faster. Its yellow eyes, bright as a bonfire in the night, burn onto my brain as it stares at me. I know what it’s trying to say. That I’m next.

Michi takes another step. It's still relatively silent, but not silent enough for the beast. Its fiery glare locks onto the girl, who freezes in response. Thank fuck, it's distracted…

But it makes no difference, does it? I’m gonna pass out soon, anyway. I’m lightheaded, the headache’s worsening… it’s all gonna go black any moment now, I’m sure.

The creature lunges for the tiny human, quickly seizing it with its claws. The girl trembles all around as the monster slowly opens its maw.

The beast jerks its head forward and chomps down on Michi’s neck. It pulls back, ripping the girl's head off with little effort. Blood shoots out of the stump of a neck and rains down all around. It's like a great, big fountain.

The beast straightens its neck and gulps Michi’s head down whole. The creature may not have an expressive face, but just by looking at it I can tell it’s enjoying the hell out of its meal. But it's not done with her yet. It looks back down at the body, and something slithers out of its mouth. A black, slimy tendril. Joined soon by two others.

Together, the tendrils dive into the severed throat of the girl. They slide deeper and deeper, squishing as they move. The beast has frozen in wait. What is it doing…?

The tendrils stop. They begin reeling back into the beast’s body. I can hear a voice. Muffled. Female. Distressed.

The corpse’s neck widens rapidly. Something's emerging.

A shadowy figure pops out, its maroon eyes wide with terror at the tendrils wrapped around it. The neck stretches even more until a glimpse of gold arises, then the whole thing is yanked out - the whole thing being Joanna and her mask.

“Stop! Stop!” she screams as the tendrils pull her into the beast’s maw. “He killed me! He killed me!”

The beast ignores her. It draws her to its throat, snaps its jaws shut and swallows.

It turns to me.

My eyes get sore. Black circles my vision. Oh fuck... my time is up. Well, place your bets: which will be my ultimate cause of death, suffocation or mauling?

The beast approaches. Its steps are heavy thumps. It reopens its mouth.

The black framing my vision advances, narrowing my sight to only show the monster ever nearing. Its dozens of teeth, its blinding eyes. They're all I see anymore.

No… I-I don't want this to be the last thing I see. I want to see something… good.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t keep track of the blackness anymore, but what would be the point? Whether slow or fast, it'll still come.

I go back. Back several days, weeks, months, years. I go back to that moment when the men in lab coats first handed it to me, that beautiful thing. The omanyte. Him. I’m gonna call Him a Him. I’ll never meet a god who could punish me for it again, so why bother sticking to one’s orders.

I think about His shell, its grainy surface. His tentacles, their touch cold and so weak. His big eyes, His gaze, equal parts fear and curiosity. The feeling in my chest, my throat. Completely foreign to me then.

I’m so sorry, my lord. I gave You away in exchange for immortality… which I then never even got. At least with You, I may have been able to enjoy what little life I had.

I can feel the beast’s breath. Hot and humid. The monster growls, and I think I can even hear its saliva dripping. Death is only moments away, it seems… so let me tell You something. Something I’ve been meaning to say ever since I met You. Three words so simple, yet so hard to even think.

My lord.

I...

---​

 

[IFBench]

After over two years, I return to review more of the one, the only, Hunter Haunted! As per our review exchange, I'll be reviewing three chapters, starting with chapter 1! Here we go!

I love how everything seems normal at first for the first several lines, up to the "I'm not human" line.

Ah, Red. Such an edgelord. I missed reading his home story.

He's a pathetic little meow meow. I know I said it on Discord already, but it deserves to be here, too. Pathetic little murderer meow meow. I probably sound so stupid right now, but I'm enjoying this too much to care. This story is fantastic.

He's even working on a textbook! I'd almost say that's adorable if not for the context.

Red's trying so so hard to erase all attatchment he has to Little Helix, and it makes me feel sad for him. Wasn't Little Helix the reason he pledged his life to HELIX in the first place? And now HELIX is trying to get him to burn that once-cherished bridge.

I can see how much it hurts for him to pretend that attatchment doesn't exist, and yet how much he feels he has to do so. It's honestly kinda heartbreaking.

Awwww, Little Helix is going to school!

Man, Red is not a good person in the slightest at this point, but I do feel sorry for him.

The scene with Red overthinking which brand to get for Little Helix is both hilarious and sad.

Someone needs to show him some genuine compassion for once. Where's Andre at?

And Red is fantasizing about murdering a baby while in the checkout aisle. The whiplash between feeling sorry for Red and hating him as a person is jarring, but it works very well for the story!

He's such a pathetic little meow meow. Such an edgelord.

And there's Yamask Joanna. Oh boy.

This was a fun chapter to reread! Red is such a character, and your writing is really fun to read!

Thank you for writing this!

 

[IFBench]

Back for chapteeeeeeeeeer 2 of our review exchange!

Ah, right, Red has no idea what a Yamask is! Honestly makes sense that not everyone would have an encyclopdiac knowledge of Pokemon, especially Pokemon not native to their home region. I apply this in Eternal Shadows myself, where Gen has no idea what a Skwovet is. Nice to see other people with the same headcanon!

Honestly love Red's panicked reaction here. Here he is, seeing a creature he never saw before, with the face of one of his victims, and he feels appropriate disbelief and terror!

Michi! There she is!

Kinda feeling a bit sad seeing her here now, now that I have the knowledge that Red kills her, but still! Michi!

...ah. For some reason, I thought that the Yamask themselves was visible, too, not just the mask. Makes it even more terrifying, just a floating mask.

And here comes Red's idea of killing a ghost. Surely this'll have no negative repurcussions whatsoever!

The scene with Red stalking Michi and Joanna is tense for a number of reasons. Tense that Red might be discovered, and that Joanna would reveal that she was murdered.

I wonder what Red's trauma with the Internet is? Is that how TPP happened?

The conversation with Red and Michi is delightful. "Language," says the serial killer.

I love that Red is intimidated enough by Michi to flee, even if it's just for now.

And oh boy, it's time for Red's appointment! How will the pathetic little murderer meow meow get out of this one?

This chapter was great, too! Introduces the main conflict of the fic, and ramps up the intrigue.

Thank you for writing this!

 

[IFBench]

And now time for chapter 3, the final chapter for our review exchange!

"The mental health clinic towers over me" made me giggle a bit, though it really shouldn't.

Are the red-green vines plastic decoration, or are they real? It's admittedly a bit hard for me to tell.

I wonder how Abe and Joe became friends? Are they from TPP?

There is so, so much wrong with you, Red.

Red has a lot of attatchment to his knife in particular. I wonder if it's only because it's a killing weapon, because of sentimental attatchment, or because it comforts him somehow?

Honestly, I kinda agree with Red here. For a mental health place, the construction feels like it's engineered to make your mental health worse.

Red is still such an edgelord.

While I thankfully can't relate to this specific scenario, I can definitely relate to spiraling and thinking the worst case scenario is the most likely scenario.

Spider! Do regular animals exist in this world too, then?

The scene with Red and the spider was great! I could really feel his anxiety and fear, even though I don't fear spiders much myself. Great job!

Guessing the Twitch was whatever was happening from TPP?

Yep, seems like the Twitch is somehow related to the Internet. Intriguing!

And there's Red making me feel sorry for him again. Someone...well, I don't think a random person telling him it's ok to have attatchments would help at all, probably only make things worse, but still.

Red likes the library, huh! Makes sense, given how quiet they're supposed to be.

Ah, looks like it's changed a lot since Red was here last, and perhaps not for the better.

Oh boy. Things are picking up! Now Red has a plan.

This was another great chapter! Shed some light on some stuff about Red, and kicked off the plot further!

Thank you for writing this!

 

[canisaries]

Thanks for the review exchange!

I wonder what Red's trauma with the Internet is? Is that how TPP happened?

Yep, you're correct. Red has trauma in regards to PCs since those were the site of many deaths and stressful situations.

Are the red-green vines plastic decoration, or are they real? It's admittedly a bit hard for me to tell.

Real! This is actually based on a real building I visited at the start of my mental health journey.

I wonder how Abe and Joe became friends? Are they from TPP?

Correct! Joe's a character from the FireRed run, although my story is in an AU where the actual run didn't happen, but the characters still exist.

Spider! Do regular animals exist in this world too, then?

Yep! Small real-life invertebrates and fish are canon in the HHverse.

 

[canisaries]

so my breakneck speed with revising continued, and i have now completed this fic (save for the extra, which i forgot about until now). i will, though, pace myself with the updates, giving them once a week. not that itll last for very long anymore - this is the penultimate chapter. although next week i will not be posting the final chapter yet, but vivarium, the midquel that takes place between chapters 13 and 14.

rating is teen because there isn't much going on this time. just some blood and injury. enjoy!

---

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It's Over

---​

Talking.

Wheels rolling on tiles.

Not here, but somewhere close by. Beyond walls.

I’m breathing. My heart beats. I’m lying down, on something soft.

Where am I?

I draw in a long breath and slightly open my eyes. It's bright. Bright and white. White. The chapel!

I sit upright, eyes wide. The brightness burns my retinas, but fuck that, I need to get… out…

No, this isn’t the chapel. There’s no gold, no red velvet. Instead, the only other colors beside white are teal, metallic gray and a warm, dark brown.

Teal is the tiled floor, and the metal is from the bars along the bed I’m on. The brown comes from the wooden table across the room. The hospital room.

I lie back down. The sheets and mattress are soft and smell clean. I suppose a hospital room like this is one of the better unfamiliar places to wake up in.

So… why am I in a hospital? I haven't been sick… or, no, I was sick, but I got bett… no, that’s not it either. I was never sick, it was just an illusion. Illusion… is this another illusion? No, I don't want any more illusions! I just… I just want to be okay, back to normal, like I used to be before all of this.

“J...J-Jo…” I try, but my jaws are still lazy. Whatever, she gets what I mean. “Are… y-you th...there?”

No response. But she could just be ignoring me…

The door of the room opens, loudly enough to make me lose my train of thought for a while. A woman enters. Dark skin, white and teal clothes… a nurse’s clothes?

“Good evening. Are you alright?” she asks, just a tad slower than people usually say that.

“I…”

Well, am I alright?

“I’m… not sure.” I sit up. “Why am I here?”

“You're recovering from an exorcism.”

Exorcism? I know I was going to perform one, but I never actually managed to do it, and then I was taken by the cops and… weird shit happened.

I check my left hand. The palm is bandaged. I guess they saw the wounds and did that. I wonder what they thought the word 'exorcism' meant…

“You were possessed by a malicious yamask,” the nurse continues. “It was taken out of you. You're free of it now.”

Taken out…?

No. My luck isn’t that good. There’s some catch here. This is just Joanna trying to fool me into thinking I’m safe so that I’ll put my guard down.

“My name is…” She tells me her name, but I immediately forget it. “I’m your nurse. Can I help you in any way?”

“Sure… can you tell me what happened in more detail?” Not that I could trust any of it, though…

“I’m sorry. I only know what I just told you. But I can get you someone who knows more.”

“Do that, please.”

“Alright. Is there anything else you need? Water? Food? Bathroom?”

“No, just… do that thing you offered.”

She nods and walks off.

Well, if this is an illusion, Joanna’s at least paying attention to detail. That clock on the wall - quarter past eight - is ticking at a consistent pace, and there’s a security camera near the ceiling. Its lens is pointed just a little bit away from me. Then there’s a window mostly covered by blinds. Orange light is shining through and casting down onto the floor in a striped pattern. Sun’s gotta be setting. Or rising, if a full night happened to pass while I was out. Just thinking about that makes me disoriented.

Either way, this whole room seems pretty real to me. But so did all that happened in the chapel. Did I just not check? I was pretty distracted.

I lift my shirt and check my skin. No wound. Well, my old scars are still there, but there’s no huge one going right down the middle is what I’m saying.

Still, if this is just Joanna tricking me again, how can I prove that? Take another hostage? This time I’d know not to take the knife away. But if Joanna’s good enough to make this room, she’d be good enough to make a fake person or mask someone approaching. There’s no way to win…

The door opens again. May as well treat this as real for the time being and see where it goes.

Four people enter - the nurse from before, some guy I don’t know in a white coat, another guy I don’t know in plain clothes and oh for fuck’s sake why does Samson have to be here.

“Thank you for coming,” the nurse murmurs to Samson, who gives a smile while stepping through the frame. He still has that Arcean necklace on. Does he ever take it off?

“Good evening, Mr Akai,” says the stranger in white. He’s got glasses and short dark hair, and I’m no detective, but I’m pretty sure that coat is a doctor’s. “I’m Dr Satou. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I say with caution. “What happened to me?”

“You were suspected to be under malicious possession, by Mr Samson here,” the doctor explains with a nod to the Arcean, “and that suspicion turned out to be correct. You were detained by the police…” He tilts his head to the other stranger this time. “...and brought here, to the hospital, where an exorcism was performed with the help of Mr Samson with you restrained. You lost consciousness as it ended, likely due to mental exhaustion, and your wounds were treated. Since then, you've rested here.”

I… see. So that’s why Samson followed me. Didn’t expect him to have experience in exorcisms...

Wait. Exorcisms can be non-fatal. Did they get Joanna out? Have they talked to her? Oh Gods. If they have, it's jail for me.

“What happened to the ghost?” I ask, trying my best not to let the distress show.

Samson’s smile droops. The doctor shuffles aside to let him take front stage. Okay, what’s he gonna say?

“We… attempted a non-fatal exorcism,” he sighs, “but due to unexpected complications, the yamask didn’t survive.”

Really?

“Have you seen what’s on your left wrist?” he asks.

I look, though I already know what’s there. The scars of the psychic protection seal. They’re almost healed by now, only visible as brown impressions. My teeth clench. People shouldn’t see these seals, they’ll get interested… but I guess I had no way to prevent it this time.

Now what do I do? Do I play dumb? Do I play dumb about this whole thing, just say I don’t remember - save for a few snapshots, to allow myself some leeway? I think that may be the best strategy for now… I can always say I’ve remembered more later on.

Samson saves me the trouble of asking what it is. “It was there when you were caught, bandaged up,” he says. “One of the nurses suggested that could have been what made the exorcism unusually difficult and ultimately caused it to go fatal. She said it resembled some spiritualist symbols she’d seen and another speculated that the yamask carved it themselves to resist any possible exorcisms.” He stares directly into my eyes. “Do you know anything about that symbol?”

I return the stare, unflinching. “No. I’m sorry.”

His expression softens with a smile. “Hey, no need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

Why does he care so much about some random kid like me? I've been nothing but an asshole to him, and he has no guarantee that was all just because of possession. And he seems genuinely upset by the death of the ghost. One would think that unusual for an exorcist, but I guess he's some kind of non-lethal-exorcisms-only type of guy.

Speaking of the ghost, I'm still not convinced she's really gone. I've been tricked too many times before. At least this time I'd like to see it coming.

Hmm, just realized that cop hasn't said anything yet. I wonder what he’s here to tell me. Ngh, I hope I’m not in too much trouble after all I did… being possessed should excuse me at least somewhat, right?

His tired-seeming eyes notice my stare. “Right…” He scratches his stubble. “I'm Officer Tojiro from the police. As you know, you caused a bit of a ruckus at the library earlier today. Now, we don't know yet how much of that was you and how much was on the ghost, and whether you're safe to let go, so you're gonna have to stay in this hospital for the next twenty-four hours.”

“What? Come on, what did I do that was so…”

Right. I guess putting a knife to someone's neck and saying you're gonna kill them unless they do something is kinda serious. I glance at Samson. He smiles. Even though I almost slit his throat today. What a weird guy.

“I don't know how much you remember,” the cop continues, “but it did involve you threatening a man's life at knifepoint. We can give you a full rundown of the events during the questioning. Speaking of…" He brings his hands to his hips. "We ought to get started on that."

Oh shit. Already? But I need time to prepare…

The nurse steps up. "With all due respect, sir, he's been through a lot. You should let him rest for a while."

The cop scratches his stubble. "One hour," he eventually says. The nurse sighs, but lets it be. An hour is probably good enough, so I don't protest either.

The cop excuses himself and takes his leave. The doctor decides he should follow, and so does Samson. The nurse lets me know I can call her at any time and then exits as well. The room has become empty save for me. And the presence of the security camera I can't ignore.

I gotta give it to you, Joanna, if you’re there. This is a very impressive ruse. Take it from a professional schemer. I just don’t know where you’re going with it. If you can make illusions this detailed and you’ve found a way to circumvent my reality-sense… you can pretty much make me do anything by crafting the right situation for it. But you haven’t made me speak aloud my secrets. Or have you? Are you actually able to take over my body? Have you done so and just cast me into a fake world inside my brain while you spill each and every bean in the real world? And then when you’re finally gouged out of me in the real exorcism, this world will just collapse and I’ll find myself somewhere completely different?

Collapse… it could happen at any moment. At any moment, I could see the truth. Realize my life is over. This anxiety is infernal. But if I’m doomed nonetheless, should I just kick back and try to enjoy my last moments as a free man?

I watch the clock tick. Tick, tick, tick. It just keeps ticking. How slow could she be? Or how cruel?

Or, maybe… this really is reality.

Wouldn’t that be something.

---​

The hour passed. I decided to use it as planned, thinking over all that had happened and what I should say about it. I stuck with the ‘I don’t remember’ idea, and when the cop came in with a couple of his buddies, that’s what I told him. I did, however, conveniently remember a few details - only vaguely, of course - that pointed in the direction of me having acted out of fear and the belief I had to do what I did in order to survive. It’s technically not false when I put it like that, you know.

In exchange for answers, they told me more about what the future would hold for me. Were I to spend the next twenty-three hours like a good little boy, I could be released on bail. Bail didn’t sound bad at all - it’s essentially like normal freedom, but you can’t leave the region and if you get caught for another crime, Gods help you. You also need to show up to court when the time comes, or again, Gods help you.

Adhering to the terms of the bail wasn’t a hard promise to make. I’ve got no plans of going vacationing, and if I do need to commit a crime or two, I’ll just do what I’ve always do and have no one find out. A crime is really a crime only when you get caught, after all. As for court, the biggest threat to that is simply forgetting. I’ll have to arrange myself a reminder when the letter comes and I find out the date.

I asked them what would happen after court. Depends on the verdict, they said. There’s such a big room for interpretation that I could walk out like nothing had happened at all or spend up to ten years in prison. Ten years. That’s a hell of a long time for just wiggling a knife about. Abe could actually have gotten laid during that time.

After the questioning, the good doctor joined us again. The officials’ forces combined, they told me there was one more thing I needed to do, for both medical and judicial reasons. I could barely contain my excitement when I heard the words ‘psychological evaluation’ once again.

I decided not to tell them about my visits to Dr Marsh given my suspicious behavior there and hoped to hell they'd pick someone other than her. They said they'd be in touch with me, although I corrected them that it'd have to be my brother Abe given my current lack of phone and my permanent lack of a mother that would actually talk to me.

And speaking of Abe…

“Red!” the boy exhales and rushes to me. The nurse closes the door behind him.

Abe stops beside my bed, grabbing his arms. “A-are you okay?”

“I'm okay, yeah.”

“I'm sorry for getting here so late,” he says. “I wasn't around my phone for a while and it was on mute and it took time to catch the bus and then I had to wait until you were done with the police --”

“It's fine, I don't mind.”

It's clear that he does, though, given that panicked justification and his reddened eyes. I don't know why he cares so much. I’m a pretty shit brother, all things considered, and he's only had me for a couple of years. Not to mention I actually threatened him with a knife just a few hours ago. I should probably apologize for that at some point. Get back his trust in case any was lost.

“So… what happened?” he asks. “They said something about a possession? And exorcism? Why would a ghost want to possess you?”

I tell him the same thing I told the cops. “Beats me. I don't know when it got into me. My memories are hazy, anyway…”

“But it's gone now, right? It's over?”

A freezing chill grips my core. If only it was that simple.

“Yeah.”

“That's good, that's good…”

Neither of us says anything for a while.

I guess I could do that apology thing now.

“Listen…” I start. His eyes meet mine again. “When I left home… I don't remember fully, like I said, but…”

As he realizes what I mean, he looks away quickly. “Y-you mean when you… had the knife and you told me not to tell anyone you were there or… you'd…” His fingers grip his arms tighter.

“Yeah. That, I guess.” I sigh. “I'm sorry. I don't know what exactly I was seeing or thinking then, but I do remember feeling really helpless and cornered. That must have made me act the way I did.”

“I see...” His eyes wander the room for a while. Then he focuses on the bandages of my left hand. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, that.” I consider removing the bandages to check out the wounds, but the hospital personnel probably wouldn’t like that, and I should try to stay on people’s good sides for now, given my situation. “They think I carved the word ‘exorcism’ onto my palm to help myself remember what I needed.” A brief smirk forms on my face. “Pretty clever, huh?”

“That must’ve hurt...”

Hmh. I guess he would focus on that. “Well, I don't remember.”

His gaze finds its way back to my face. “So… what happens now? When can you come home?”

“Twenty-four hours. Well, around twenty-three by now. Either way, they wanna monitor me to make sure I won’t do anything crazy. Apparently I got rowdy during the possession and that’s why.”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

Oh, Abe, always such a goody-two-shoes. “Nah. Save for feelings, maybe.”

“Good...”

Another silence arises. He seems deep in thought.

“You should head home,” I start, reclaiming his attention. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure the others...”

The others. That includes the omanyte. I haven’t thought of… it since that last memory I had before blacking out. I was dying, or thought I was dying. I thought of the omanyte…

No, I shouldn’t dwell on that right now. Especially not with Abe around.

“I’m sure the others want to know what’s happened to me and if I’m fine,” I continue. “You should let them know everything’s alright.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighs. He begins to turn, but freezes.

“...What is it?” I ask.

“I…” He shifts positions, never finding a comfortable one. “I was just wondering...”

He closes his eyes and forces out what he has to say. “Do you need a hug?”

Do I need… “No?”

“O-okay. Just making sure.”

“Okay.”

“Well, s-see ya.” He dares one quick glance at my face, then heads for the door.

“See ya,” I reply, and he exits with a nod. He closes the door with him.

I lie back down on my bed and exhale deeply. I enjoy a long blink. My eyelids really are getting heavy, now that I think about it.

But before I go to sleep, I want something to eat. I hope they still serve food at this hour. Probably not… but it’s worth a try asking.

I’m about to call out for a nurse, but remember I was shown a button next to my bed for that sort of thing and press that instead. Hope it works. Hope the nurses aren’t sick of needy or troublemaking patients overusing it to the point of ignoring it. I’d imagine a room for solitary confinement would have a higher percentage of patients like that.

Guess I’ll just wait for now. I better not get my hopes too high up for the chance of food - the hunger will only get worse if I think I’ll be getting some grub and then be denied. Even if, given the reputation of hospital food, I’d probably have a better culinary experience with a fresh placenta from the maternity department...

Oh, dammit. I just realized I could’ve asked Abe to bring me something.

---​

Ngh… who turned on the lights? I’m a recovering patient, couldn’t you let me sleep in? They say sleep is the best medicine, you know…

...Why is it this quiet?

The hospital was still full of hums and steps and beeps when I went to sleep. Am I supposed to believe every patient was magically healed overnight and they’ve all left since?

No, even that can’t be it. There’s no noise from the outside world, either - no traffic, no wind, no birds. Something’s definitely off.

I force my eyes open.

Empty?

This room is empty. No tables, no chairs, not even a window, and… where’s the door?

I sit up and survey the milky white room, but no, I can’t see a door anywhere. But that’s not right. If there’s no door, how does anyone leave? Or enter, for that matter?

And… what am I wearing? A white hospital gown? Why are there… belts on it? What are those used for?

Okay, this is really weird. I don’t like this at all. Somebody better explain this to me and quick.

Maybe… maybe something happened while I was asleep? Something that made them put me in this room? Actually, ‘room’ is too generous - this is basically a cube. Just a white cube with nothing but this bed. Clearly not the same kind of bed as the one in my old room, either. This one’s mattress is less soft. You’d think someone required to spend time in this cube could use all the luxury they could get.

I push the thin blanket off myself and put my feet on the floor. It’s cold, even through the socks I’m wearing. I don’t think those are mine, either.

A whirr? It’s loud. One of the walls is moving, scrolling up. It slowly reveals what this cube connects to, that being a hallway it flanks. The hallway is covered in dark gray tiles for its whole visible length, save for the door embedded in the wall across from me.

The whirring stops with a clank, the wall fully raised. Silence returns.

Can I… leave? Are they indirectly telling me to leave? Well, that’s fine by me, it’s not like I want to stay. This place is just creepy.

I head for the hallway with a brisk pace. I wonder where it le-

Fuck!

Oh, that’s really funny. That’s really funny that you’d put a glass wall there.

I rub my poor aching face and step back. A faint grease smear now floats in front of me. At least I’ll be able to tell where the wall is now.

Steps. Someone’s coming. I’m guessing from the hallway.

A brief wait proves me right. Three humans emerge, one male and two female. Each has a long coat, a headpiece, gloves, a mask and a notepad, all of the items white. The woman on the left seems to have no right ear.

They stop in front of my cube and turn to me.

“Uhh… what’s going on?” I ask.

“Nothing,” answers the man, his voice muffled by the mask over his mouth and nose. “Go back to what you were doing.”

What…? No, I want answers!

I lean on the glass. “Why am I here? What is this place?” Oh Gods, don’t tell me... “Am I quarantined?”

“Not in the traditional sense of the word, no,” the man replies, and writes something down.

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

This time the woman on the right responds. “You carry no pathogen or radiation, but you are being contained for the safety of others.”

No pathogen or radiation… “You think I might do something dangerous?”

“You already have,” she says and gestures to her female colleague, the one with the missing ear. “Just look at Nurse Hayashi.”

I glance back and forth between the two. “Elaborate?”

“You tore off her ear.”

“...No, no I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t you remember? You were yelling and snarling the whole time, too, about how you were some kind of ‘priest’ who was going to bring about the end of the world.”

Fuck, they know about my priesthood? Could it be that what they’re saying… actually happened, but I just don’t remember?

“I don’t think he remembers,” says the man.

“Interesting,” say the women in unison, and all three write something in their notepads.

This… I don’t like this one bit. I don’t like the way these people treat me, like I’m some kind of feral. I’m probably smarter than all of them. And I’m definitely stronger. They should be the ones in here being fucked with. They should be --

Did something just growl? I can’t see anything...

You know what, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this… whatever this is.

I stand up straight. “Let me out of here. Right now.”

“That can’t be done.”

I bang a fist into the glass. “Right now, assholes!”

Oh, shit. I wasn’t planning on doing that. I was trying to be civil, show them I was a human just like them.

“Are you going to get violent again?” asks the one-eared woman.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll tear the other ear off too!”

No, I…

“I think we’ve seen enough for today,” she says, unfazed by my aggression. “Let’s move along.”

They lower their pads and continue their march through the hallway.

“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!” I bang the glass, but they ignore me, disappearing behind the corner.

The door in the hallway opens, capturing my attention. A man resembling the others leaves, paying me no further mind. Through the frame of the door, I see a room with actual furniture in it. A sofa, a coffee table, some chairs, and sitting on one chair is --

“Joanna!” I scream. My nails scrape the glass. I should’ve known. I should’ve known the hospital was just her tricking me again.

Well, I did know. But I did nothing. What could I have done? Nothing. But I should have done something.

“You piece of shit!” I spit at her, but all she gives in return is a brief, uninterested glance with her big red eyes. They no longer leak.

The door swivels to a close, dimming the hallway just a bit, but enough for a reflection to appear. A reflection of me, but also something else. Some kind of shadow over me. Sharp-horned, needle-furred.

Oh Gods, oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods!

Its eyes open. Its blazing, searing yellow eyes. Staring right back at me with its tiny, sharp voids for pupils. Silently as a noctowl.

“Let me out! Someone!” I rasp. I keep pounding the glass. It hurts all the way to the bones of my hands, but no one comes.

All hairs on end, I turn around. I barely get a free look at the beast when its tendrils seize my neck, coiling around it in a slimy, suffocating grip.

It’s huge. It definitely wasn’t this big before. I try to scream again, but not a puff of air can leave or enter my lungs. I’m forced to stare right into the beast’s maw, the source of the black tentacles wrapped around me. The beast's jagged, off-white teeth point in all directions. Streams of sticky spit roll down its pale tongue and gums.

Something moves in its throat - the wrinkles on the skin. They form faces, faces I recognize, faces of my victims. Agonized. They’re trying to scream, squirm their way out, but all in vain. They're part of the beast now. Forever.

A breathy growl exits the pit of the throat, coating me in the stench of its innards. The jaws open wider.

A crushing grip - the beast’s hand - takes hold of me, squeezing my limbs against my body, crackling the bones. I’m unable to even struggle. The tendrils release my neck, only for the beast’s jaws to pinch around my skull. My primitive side takes full control, and I screech.

The pinch gets tighter. The teeth cut into my scalp with burning pain. Hot blood trickles down my forehead and temples, circles my nose and ears. The teeth reach the bone.

The beast bites down.

Crack!

---​

 

[canisaries]

posting here to say that the midquel oneshot vivarium has been uploaded in another thread! it takes place between chapters 13 and 14. find it here.

thank you for your attention, and stay tuned for the final chapter of hunter, haunted next week!

 

[canisaries]

ladies, gents, enbies, here we are. after two years, we have reached the end of the story. this is the final chapter of hunter, haunted.

i will still be back next week to upload the extra chapter that's from samson's POV, but the main story ends here. though red's story will continue in the sequel, the bringer, which i have started writing already! i hope youll move on to that, too, when it's up.

this chapter is rated teen for brief descriptions of violence. now, without futher ado - enjoy.

---

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Black Wool

---​

Maybe she’s still there. Maybe she’s not there. Either way, I find myself wishing she was in front of me right now so that I could grab that mask of hers and stomp it into scrap metal.

Of course, I’d vastly prefer it if she was still human. Humans have all sorts of tissue to tear out and shove down their throats. I’d kill her over and over again, painfully and brutally, and finally get the satisfaction of ripping her apart that I missed the first time around.

That nightmare I had - the one with the cube and the beast - put me in a sour mood for the rest of my twenty-four hours in the hospital, not that I’d been in a good one to begin with. Thankfully, though, none of the staff picked up on my bloodlust, and my time there came to a close without further problems.

As I stepped out of the hospital doors, a wave of relief came over me. I was finally free again. Well, I would still have to show up for court when the day came, but free enough. The sun was setting and the evening breeze was shuffling the leaves of the birch trees planted alongside the street, and I took in the serenity of it all. I really needed it after everything that’s happened.

Half an hour prior, Abe had arrived at the hospital to escort me home, but I declined. Said that I wanted to take a walk in the woods to get away from buildings and people for a while. It wasn’t untrue, but it was leaving out my main motivation - making sure I hadn’t left anything behind at the cabin that could incriminate me. Either way, Abe reluctantly agreed. As he left, I got a feeling that he still wanted that hug. Weird kid.

I continue on my way, walking deeper into the forest from the graveyard. There was actually someone else beside me there this time - some old man bringing flowers to a grave. He didn’t seem to pay me any mind, though, which was good.

I wonder if they'll give Joanna a grave in that yard once they've realized she's not coming back. Her family was from Pallet, after all, and her brother was at the supermarket nearby. But they could live on the opposite end of town for all I know. Would I even be able to find her grave?

No, I wouldn't be looking for graves that far in the future, anyway. I'd be too busy being a god --

I stop.

...Right. I don't know what I'll be doing. Because, given all that's happened… I don't even think I’ll be the Bringer.

Does that mean that I’m gonna die? Oh Gods --

No, don’t jump to conclusions. You’re still useful to HIM. Even if you’re not the Bringer, you can still become immortal. Someone else can be the Bringer, and you can be among the other predators. Someone high-ranking. I’ve done enough for HIM to get a favor like that, right?

But I’ve failed HIM. I gave into my fear during that incident with the spiders, and in that chapel illusion… I thought of Him. It. No, Him. I’m through pretending. I can’t deny my bond with Him anymore, even if HE told me to break it off. That much is clear.

Though… it’ll mean HE will be angry. Oh Gods. HE will want to punish me, and it’ll be far worse than whatever Joanna put me through. Maybe HE will force me to bring him back to that cave I found him in after all. Then I would actually die. I’d live a mortal life fearing that emptiness to come for decades before it comes and takes me. And then it’s nothing, forever.

My breath and steps become shaky. I don’t want to die, no. I have to plead with HIM to spare my life. I have to make HIM understand that my bond with Him isn’t something I’m holding on to to defy HIM, but something I’m just unable to erase. Have HIM see it as a wound, a disability, and not a problem with obedience. Because that’s what it is, right? And if that’s what it is, HE will see the truth, and HE will know that I’m not lying. And HE will spare me.

I’m not fully convincing myself here, but I should hold on to that hope for now. I need to do what I came here to do anyway - if I do end up staying mortal, I’d at least like to spend my remaining time as a free man rather than behind bars.

The rest of the walk to the cabin proves uneventful. No mon sighted outside a few birds, no people save for myself. Most importantly, no pink-haired girls. But the cabin itself may be another story.

I step into the opening, careful not to rustle the surrounding ferns too loudly. No signs of life around or in the cabin, visible or audible… yet. Keeping my caution, I circle to the opposite side, then approach the old red shack slowly. I reach the window and peek in.

Nothing in this secondary room. I move on to the door, finding it cracked open. It's unlikely that she'd leave it open like that. Me, however… I think the last time I was here, I rushed out in some kind of… bloodlust-induced haze, so I very likely didn't properly close it after myself.

I open the door and look inside. No one’s there. Judging by the mattresses thrown on the floor, no one’s been here after my last visit. That’s good.

Alright, that’s one out of three things off my to-do list. I should get to the second before it gets dark.

I exit the cabin and retrace my path back from when I first chased Michi. Nothing off on the way there, not that I expected anything. I took a brief detour to check out the spot where I made her corpse disappear - the mold was kicked around thoroughly, leaving no sign of the disintegration circle. Anyone coming across it will either fail to notice it or blow it off as the result of a wild mon scuffle. Perfect for me.

Finally, I arrive at the murder scene.

The dirt of the ground appears naturally distributed. No blood can be spotted off the bat, but I take a closer look. I'm especially careful in checking the patch I knew she died on. I search even for hairs, but nothing’s there. It’s clean.

I circle each tree within a two-meter radius, carefully inspecting their bark for markings. I'm shocked to find the nuclear launch codes carved into one. Just kidding. There's nothing here, either. That's two out of three. And just in time - the sun appears to have set by now.

Only one thing left to check. It isn't as simple as the others, though - I have to wait for it to come to me.

I sit down by one of the pines and lean onto its trunk, sighing. I draw my lungs full of the pure forest air. My eyes close by themselves.

Michi… either she's dead, or she's long gone from here. I'm considering the first option more likely, as I would've expected to hear something from her by now had she escaped. So, I have good reason to believe that I really did kill a child. I am a child murderer. Not just any child, but an orphan. Although, isn't that less bad in a way? She's got no parents to mourn her.

No one to mourn her…

Well, that's not right. Michi was a clever, resourceful girl. She had promise. She deserves mourning far more than the annoying little brats I usually see stumbling about. But they'd get it if they died, she doesn't. Why do their memories get to live on when she becomes forgotten?

I know I felt hatred towards her. I know I wanted to make her suffer. But those feelings were really for Joanna, weren't they? She was the one controlling Michi in those illusions, the hand behind the puppet. It's really her that deserved the pain. What Michi got… it wasn't personal. It was just what my hunter's instinct told me to do.

I should've hunted someone who had it coming. Kill one of those worthless brats, not rob the world of a prodigy. If raised right, she may have even become a predator. A packmate. On the other side of the teeth.

But now she's gone. And I'm the reason why.

So I should be the one to bear her memory.

I open my eyes. The twilit woods welcome me back. I eye the patch on which she died, the whole area. There's nothing really special about this spot - there are hundreds more just like it. But I think there should be something. Even just a little something.

I get up and search for… anything pretty or peculiar, really. Smooth rocks, flowers… I think I see some white over there. Could be what I want.

Yeah, they're flowers. Rawstberry, actually. That'll do just fine.

I pick a few of the flowers, find a smooth rock about the size of my palm and return to the scene of her death. I place the flowers on the dirt and pin them down with the rock.

It's a very modest grave, but a grave nonetheless. Now there's something left of her that everyone can see. They won't understand it, but they'll know it must have some meaning. As did her existence.

Yes, this and the lock of hair in my basement will preserve her. Maybe the flowers of this grave will wilt and the rock be knocked around, but this memory will last. She'll continue to exist in my mind, my mind alone…

...wait, didn't she mention something about ghost friends?

Yeah, when I was following her for the first time, she spoke to Joanna about some other ghosts. I totally forgot. She was friends with all of them, right? I just never saw them because, like she said, they were used to leaving her alone with new ghosts for a while…

I guess she won't be forgotten, then. Essentially ever. Ghosts are practically immortal. I got worried all for nothing.

I guess that also means this grave is kind of useless… should I take it apart, to erase my tracks completely?

...No. I'll let it stay. It's a nice thought.

"Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi…"

Birdcall. There's what I need for the final item on my to-do list.

I sit back down to make it easier to stay still, and return the pidgey's call. "Pi-pi-pi-pi."

I hope the birds aren't too afraid of me after last time. If that really happened. That's what I'm trying to find out, actually.

Fortunately, after a few more calls and a couple of coos, a small brown bird emerges from hiding. It jumps from one branch to another, each a bit lower than the last, ever so slightly pushing them down upon landing. Its tail flicks to help it balance itself. Birds are such acrobats...

“Prrruuuu...” I coo softly, encouraging it to come even closer. It flutters down onto the ground in front of me, good.

“Hey, birdie,” I whisper. “Say the words.”

It stares at me, beady eyes innocent and curious. “Pi-pi-pi?” it chirps, pacing about on its scrawny feet.

“Complete the sentence. ‘Ichiro Akai…’”

Its bulky, pink beak stays shut this time.

“‘Ichiro Akai…’” I try again, breathing a bit more easily now as optimism creeps into my brain.

The pidgey runs a circle, then hops onto the tip of my shoe. It twirls in place, studying the odd material it’s on, then ruffles its feathers and sits still.

It doesn’t seem to care about these words. I sigh, relieved. So either Joanna never actually taught them the words or they’ve been forgotten. Both are good. I could leave now, but… I like this little pidgey. I may as well stay until it gets bored of me, which I can’t imagine taking too long.

The pidgey has started preening. It’s pretty. Its wing feathers are neatly placed side by side. Its neck is twisting to impressive positions as it tidies its plumage. Its markings are simple but iconic…

...wait, why’d you stop?

The bird has raised its head and is staring through me. Its feathers are now tightly kept against its body. It’s become as still as a sculpture. Is it… scared?

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

It opens its beak. Nothing’s coming out. What giv-

“He’s coming.”

What?

The bird just spoke, but that wasn’t my voice, that wasn’t even Joanna’s voice - I’ve never heard that voice before. It was female and young, but it wasn’t Michi. It was older.

“He’s coming,” the bird repeats, the voice now distressed.

“...Who is?” I ask quietly. Who taught it to speak that way, and what kind of situation was she in? It’s not related to me, is it?

“He’s coming!” the bird whispers. The speaker sounds like she’s about to cry.

“Who is?” I repeat.

Thump.

...What was that? Was that a tree falling down or --

Thump.

“He’s coming!”

Thump!

This thump was much louder, loud enough for the pidgey to take flight, wings frantically beating against the air. It disappears into the treetops.

Okay, what the hell’s going on? I get up and turn around. The thumping’s coming from over there, right?

But there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just more trees and their swaying branches.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

It’s getting louder. What is it? What’s making this noise?

No… no, no, don’t tell me…

Crrrr-rack!

A big, low branch in the distance breaks. It reveals…

Not you. Not you!

Almost as if it’s heard my thoughts, its lips pull back into that horrible grin. Its blazing yellow eyes stay nailed onto my face, never once blinking as the pitch-black monster approaches. Every step is a quake.

It’s one thing to be afraid of a monster. It’s entirely another to know that it means you’re insane.

Joanna never left.

My hands draw to my head, nails digging into the scalp. No, don’t let this happen again. I’m so done with this. I want to be free.

The beast comes closer. A hungry growl leaks out between its teeth along with strings of sticky spit. It wants me shove me into itself just like I did to Michi. Though not before it pulls off each limb and chews them clean. Tears out and slurps in my organs. It loves blood, it loves flesh, it loves violence. I know because it was born from me.

Well, what do I do now? Do I follow my instincts and run even though I have no chance of getting away? Do I stay and try to fight? Neither will end well. I’m gonna be torn to shreds, feel that pain, then wake up knowing it’ll just keep happening. I’ll just keep on seeing things that aren’t there until people notice and I’m thrown into some white cube to spend the rest of my days in. Unhappy, fearing my inevitable death - and still seeing things, if Joanna manages to fuck my brain up that badly before leaving.

Or, even worse… she already did.

So that’s it, then? All of that shit’s gonna happen to me and there’s nothing I can do about it? All those years predetermined, and I just have to simply sit through them until death comes to take me?

Feet unable to carry me, my knees meet the ground. I slouch to save myself the sight of the beast’s blinding eyes. The earth shakes, and my body dreads the crushing teeth soon to pierce it, but my mind can’t escape the thought of who’s really responsible.

If Joanna’s there, she’s listening. If she’s not… shouting at nothing will just suit a lunatic like me.

All the strength that’s left my limbs gathers at my vocal cords. I fill my lungs for the desperate cries to come.

“I can’t give you what you want!”

It echoes from tree to tree. The beast’s steps don’t waver. Not that I expected them to.

“I can’t give any of it!” I continue, having found some shred of solace in the yelling. “Confession? Killing myself? Being sorry?”

I grimace. “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t be sorry! I just can’t! I’ve never been able to! You may as well be screaming at a deaf man!”’

The beast stops. Probably just to plan more carnage, though, so who cares.

“And I can’t tell them,” I say, no longer shouting. The strength I had has already begun to run out, I see. Every word seems to be quieter than the last. But if I’m already talking, I may as well keep going...

“And I can’t kill myself. Because I wanna live. I wanna be happy. At least content. And it just happens that the only way that can be is if I do these things. Trust me, I’ve tried to live like you, but it just doesn’t work, because there’s something… different about me. Wrong with me. I'm not…”

...And, just like that, I don’t know what to say.

The words, of which I had heaps just a moment ago, have run out. Whichever part of my brain was feeding them to my mouth has jammed. All I can do is breathe, face burning, eyes watering.

I think it's because… I just admitted something I've been avoiding for a long time.

That there's something wrong with me.

“...Dude.”

What? Who?

I look up. Purple. Purple smoke. Big white eyes, tiny pupils. Fanged mouth. Gastly. What? Why?

“There’s no monster,” it says quietly, tonelessly.

And… it’s right, the beast is nowhere to be seen. But… what…?

“It was a fake,” it continues, its crimson-bordered eyes staring at the ground. “I was just messin’ with you, dude...”

Its voice is female and somehow familiar… was it the one from the pidgey?

Wait, it’s saying it was messing with me. That was all… set up by this gastly? But that makes no… or does it?

“Y-you made --” I try, but the voice is weak and phlegmatic. I clear my throat. “You made that monster?”

The gastly nods.

“How did you make it… look like that?” I ask. “Like that, in particular?” How does it know how the beast that’s been terrorizing me looks? Has it read my mind? Fuck, does it know what I did?

“Uhh… I mean… I don’t really control the details,” it says. “Like, the way it works is that I show people something vague and make them scared in a way that they fill in the blanks themselves… I mean, that’s how my friend describes it. She knows a lot about ghosts, like, book stuff.”

Friend…?

The gastly makes eye contact again. “Right, yeah. Speaking of my friend, have you seen her around? She’s a human, pretty young. Pink haired girl. Answers to Michi.”

Hearing about the pink hair gave me a zap and the name a full-on thunderbolt. I hope I didn’t show it too much. Looking at the gastly, I don’t think it noticed.

“No, sorry,” I say. “Haven’t seen anyone like that.”

“Oh. Okay. If you see her, though, tell her Gabby’s getting impatient. The new guy can’t take this long to break in.” The gastly hovers a bit further. “Uh, and sorry about the scare. You looked like you could handle it, but I guess I touched on something personal, like drama with an ex or… whatever. Bye.”

“...Bye,” I respond as the ghost floats away, disappearing into the trees. I swear I could’ve heard it call me a ‘weirdo’ under its breath on its way out.

I get up, dust off my clothes and stagger back onto the path. I just wanna go home now. This week’s been too much. As if one ghost wasn’t enough, now I had to meet another…

Well, I guess that settles the Michi thing, at least. She’ll definitely be remembered, with or without a grave, and fondly so.

Good, because I’m sure as fuck never coming to these woods again.

---​

Something wrong with me…

I can’t shake that thought. Haven’t been able to since I left the woods. It keeps echoing, never fading, no matter how many times it bounces off the walls of my skull.

I always knew I was different. That others would think something’s wrong. But to say it really is wrong, the opposite of right…

I thought everyone else was wrong. HE thinks so. HE says us predators are what humans should be. Further evolved.

But is it really so? Maybe for the other predators, but I… I don’t know how it’s so hard for me to just live. The prey seem happy enough, and the predators blend in… I definitely don’t blend in. From the perspective of both prey and predator, something is off about me.

So… what am I?

Faced with my house’s front door, I have to stop walking. I wonder if it’ll put a halt to these thoughts. I’d sure like that - I’m so tired from all that’s happened, today or this entire week… I just wanna rest. Physically and mentally.

I twist the key and open the door.

“Red?” asks Abe’s voice from deeper in the house. Rushed steps come, and the boy appears in the hall, shaken. “Red!”

I sigh. Is something going on? I’d really not deal with anything more today. “What is it?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Heavier steps following Abe stop at the hall’s frame. A nidoking peeks in, big ears perked. Fonz. He seems interested as well, but not as worried as Abe.

Abe sighs. “You were out so late, and there was an ursa warning in the area...”

“Oh.”

“B-but you’re fine,” he breathes. “So I guess...”

He trails off, unsure how to continue, only looking down with his hands grasping one another.

I get the craziest idea.

“Hey.”

He looks up to see me approach. His right leg wavers, considering a step back, but freezes as he realizes what I’m doing.

I set my arm on his back and draw him close. “I’m fine,” I say. I don’t know how true it is.

Abe’s tension deflates, though not entirely. He leans into me. His arm twitches, but he decides against raising it. We stay like this for a few seconds.

Well, there you go. There’s your hug. I don’t know why it matters to you so much, but now that you’ve got it, you better not beg for it anymore. The only people I allow to touch me any more than this are doctors, you know.

I let go of Abe and walk past him, then Fonz. Fonz looks surprised. Yeah, same. But I’m really too tired to care. Right now I just want a spot to crash and lie on like the animated corpse I am.

The couch is the closest. Guess I’ll take that. I walk over and --

Oh. Right. You. You exist. You with your shell and your tentacles and your big, innocent eyes.

The couch occupied, I go for the armchair instead. I reach it and collapse. Something’s softly poking my left arm, probably a quill of Fonz’s, but I really can’t be asked to care about it right now. It’s not like he’s the poison-point variant.

“Hi.”

That clear, bright, young voice…

Listen. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’ve already lost the position of Bringer, the thing I’ve been struggling to achieve for years. I might not even be worthy of being a predator anymore. How much of a sin can it be if I, at this moment of weakness, let my true feelings be?

“...Hi,” I exhale, and look at Him.

Him. His vibrant blue. His many soft arms. His spiraling shell.

Oh, how I’ve missed You.

He’s not looking at me right now, but focusing on a notebook He holds. One tentacle wraps around a pen and taps it against the shell absentmindedly. I guess He’s used to me giving Him the cold shoulder by now, so He returns the favor.

Fonz enters the living room and sits down next to Him with an encouraging smile. The omanyte prods at Fonz’ leg with a tentacle, and he lifts Him onto his lap, beginning to stroke His shell.

The affection is clear. They obviously care for each other. They’re like family, honestly.

Family… that’s not a concept unique to humans or human-like minds. It’s everywhere in the animal kingdom.

A mother ursa will fiercely protect her cubs. A feraligatr will use her crushing jaws to gently carry her hatchlings to water. Houndoom pack members will care for the alphas’ pups. Houndoom, the very symbol of predator.

Why shouldn’t I be allowed to care for Him? All those predators care on instinct, and it doesn’t make them any less deadly. I’m already supposed to make sure He stays healthy and alive, to help HIS powers grow faster. Won’t an attachment only motivate me further? Make me feel better, help me stay in control? It won’t stop me from stalking and killing. It’ll only enhance my performance, if anything.

Maybe it could even help me patch up my other faults. Maybe that’s exactly how I could be a predator.

“Red?”

Fonz. Our eyes meet. I guess he saw me staring at Him.

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” he asks quietly.

Well… you know what? I think there is.

I take a deep breath and --

Say nothing.

The omanyte has stared back. So vulnerable. Wants answers, but tries to hide it. He’s… scared. Scared of me. That’s what I’ve caused to happen.

My mouth is paralyzed. Even a simple ‘yes’ is too hard. I feel like I don’t even have the right to speak to Him anymore.

As my lips still refuse to cooperate, I let my gaze wander on the nidoking. Fearsome horns. Thick, armor-like skin. Powerful claws, intimidating tusks. Quills on the nape of his neck and his back. Robust tail, a well-timed swing of which could surely break every bone in a human’s body.

But the horns are filed to be dull and the quills are cut to be mere stubs. The claws rest immobile on the creature’s thighs, walling in the tiny omanyte, protecting Him from any harm. The tail is lying limp by the mon’s side like an ekans enjoying the first sunshine after its long hibernation. The tusks have barely seen any use in years.

Most of the mon’s trimmed back spikes are even safely contained within an extra large leather jacket in order not to have his needles stick in the furniture he uses or the occasional human that bumps into him in a crowd. A jacket. On a nidoking. It's ridiculous if you think about it. This mon is an armored killing machine, yet here he is, sitting on a couch made for humans, in human clothing, with the most human concern on his bestial face.

For a moment, I just see a chubby thirty-something guy in a mascot outfit in front of me. The thought makes me snicker.

Fonz’s ears rise in curiosity. “What's funny?” he asks, unaware of the complete absurdity of his own existence. My teeth are dull and my nails couldn't cut through anything, yet he's the one holding the omanyte and I’m the one drinking orphan blood.

My eyes heat up, gathering water. I sniffle. Gods, this is a weird feeling. I lean my face into my palms, patchy breathing echoing back at me. The hands hide a wavering grimace.

To regain even an ounce of control, I blink to clear my eyes, squeezing out a tear or two. I need to keep talking. When I’ve said what I need to say, I can leave and ruminate on how much of a freak of nature I am somewhere else.

I take the hands away, letting my head support itself again, and look straight at the omanyte. He’s curious, but still so scared, scared because I’m being so strange right now, and have been strange for weeks and weeks...

“It’s okay,” comes out of me. I don’t know if I’m telling Him or myself, it just felt right to say. Fonz moves his claws onto His shell, for emotional support, I suppose.

I clear my throat. I just need to get it over with. The words don’t matter - as long as I get my message across, it’ll be fine.

“I need to apologize.”

That’s a start. Keep going. Breath in, Breath out. Talk.

“I’ve been really weird lately,” I finally manage to get out. “Especially towards you, my lord. But I-I… I don’t want to be like that anymore. I don’t want to be away from You. I can’t keep ignoring You, no matter how much...”

No, I can’t mention HIM. As much as it would lighten my burden, it needs to stay secret. If He knew what these hands have done, He’d never let me hold Him again.

Come on. Breathe in, breathe out. Let’s continue. Where was I? I forgot. Shit.

“I’m sorry for getting You the wrong kind of shrimp,” I bumble, not coming up with anything else to say. Fonz’s shoulders relax and a slight smile appears on his face. I laugh, just a little. The motion speeds up the tears on their way down my cheeks.

Right. Now I remember where I was going.

I get up, slog my way to the couch and sit right next to the two. “My lord...” I start. “There’s something I need to tell You.”

“...What is it?” the omanyte finally speaks. It's a punch to my heart. His voice is so feeble. And so young - He’s still just a juvenile, even if He’s growing up so fast.

“I...” I try, barely able to speak through my constricted throat. How does He manage to have this effect on me? His mere vicinity overwhelms me, bringing forth enough passion to rival the thrill of a sacrifice. But instead of feeling tremendous power rush through my very being, I feel… so weak. Incomplete. Unless I get closer.

I guess that means the verb I’m going to use really is the right one.

“I love You.”

The words silence everything. The ticking of the clock, the beating of my heart, any traffic or wind outside. Well, they’re still there, but they’re nothing after that deafening blast. The world has frozen in response. I guess only I can melt it now, start time again.

“I’ve loved You since the day I first met You,” I continue. My larynx is opening up. It’s easier to speak now that the main bomb has been dropped. “I trust You remember it too. You’ve died twice since then, but I imagine that moment’s important enough to be included in the things H... Your spirit allows You to remember even across different bodies.”

He doesn’t respond, He still just stares.

“You do remember, don’t You?“ Fear accelerates my pulse. Surely He can’t have forgotten?

“I do,” He peeps, calming me down again. I guess He was just dazed by my confession.

“Okay, good...”

I allow my eyes to close. They need a bit of a break.

“S-so...” the omanyte begins. My lids open in an instant. The fear comes back. Oh fuck. I didn’t even prepare myself for His response. What if He thinks it’s creepy? What if He doesn’t want to be around me anymore? Have I just robbed myself of the very thing I finally allowed myself to have?

“Do you… love me as, like...” He continues. It's clear that the word doesn't quite fit His beak either, but I doubt it's even a fraction as terrifying as it is for me. “...a friend, or family, or a…” He leaves the last one unspoken.

“I’d say family,” I say, smiling. But I don’t know for sure at all. I don’t love anyone in my family. I don’t love anyone, period, aside from Him. Or, well, there’s HIM. But that’s complicated.

I inch even closer to Fonz, eliminating the last centimeters of distance between us as my leg touches his. He doesn’t flinch… much. Good enough.

“But the most important thing is that I do,” I add, “and that’ll never change.”

Never? What about when Judgment comes?

My smile wilts. The omanyte sees it. Fuck, no. I need a lie now.

“Well, I’ll die one day, but… You know what I mean.” I grin. His tension leaves. Bullet dodged.

A droplet taps down on Fonz’s claw, making it twitch. I realize my face is burning and soaking wet, and briefly look away to wipe away the excess fluid with my sleeve. When I’m done and turn back, it's drenched. I haven't cried this much since His last death.

I sigh. I haven't even held Him in such a long time. I’d love to go ahead and just do it right now, but I don't want to startle Him any more than I already have.

Still, I really, really just need to feel His touch again. To know He doesn't hate me. To show Him I mean only well.

Cautiously, I raise my dry hand and rest it palm up on top of Fonz’s claw. The omanyte looks at it, then me. Then He unfurls one of His tiny tentacles and touches it.

Contact is made on just two fingers, but my whole body feels it. The gentle cold. The richest azure. The intricate sculpture of the sea, each one of the dozen suckers. Now I’m the one frozen and the world moves too fast around me.

His eyes flick back to me. So much trust, hope, belief in them. So fragile He is. He can never, never be allowed to see my inhumanity.

Slowly, my fingers curl, encasing the little limb with the most minimal of pressure. I’m afraid to use any more, lest He be hurt or startled. Now that I have Him back, I should never have to lose Him again.

But it's going to be inevitable, isn't it? One day HE will rise, and from that day on, there'll be nothing but misery for the prey.

If I’m going to be happy then no matter what, will I even care enough to want to protect Him? And if I did, who's to say HE or another one of HIS houndoom won't get to Him first?

“What's wrong?”

The omanyte’s voice awakens me back to the present. The beautiful present which I shouldn’t leave and waste - this is something that should be enjoyed now. While I still can.

“Nothing,” I assure Him. “I just thought again about what a jerk I’ve been to You lately. I feel awful about it.”

“Well, I forgive you,” He responds. It came so easily to Him. Like He… was ready to forgive me even from the moment I first ignored Him. A vessel bound by spirit to the very god of cruelty, and He’s the kindest mon I’ve ever known.

“Th-thanks,” I breathe.

I suddenly remember there’s a third member in this discussion, too. I look up at Fonz’s face. He's smiling. Right. He’s used to being ignored by me. That's how we work. But I guess I might as well shake things up a bit now, I’m being sentimental anyway and that rarely happens.

“I don't tell you this enough, but you've taken great care of Him.”

He’s absolutely shocked. Heh.

But soon enough, he smiles again. “It's nothing, pal,” he chuckles and raises his arm to grab my shoulder. His claws, although dulled, are still very sturdy. Good thing he’s not my enemy.

He takes away his hand and the room returns to silence. Save for the clock and outside noises, of course.

“So… yeah. That's all,” I say. “You can just go back to what you were doing. I think I’m gonna go and take a shower now.”

Both mon nod, if a bit awkwardly. The omanyte’s tentacle slowly draws away. On some instinctive level, it hurts, but I know I’ll feel His touch again later, many times. Because I don’t have to avoid Him any longer. I don’t have to keep killing myself on the inside anymore. I can allow myself to feel how I feel.

I can't know what the future will bring. I can't foresee the pain that may one day come. But there's one thing I can say for certain about this moment right now.

It’s real, and I’m so glad it is.

---

“You seem tired.”

I look at her, trace her red-rimmed glasses with my gaze. Dr Jordan Marsh. I didn't think I'd ever be glad to see her, but here I am, happy that she accepted my request to meet her here at the café, outside a clinical setting. She takes a sip of her coffee.

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “Nightmares.”

Yeah, it would’ve been great if all my problems had vanished along letting Him back into my life, but reality had other plans. The Judgment question wasn’t enough - I needed to get nightmares, too. As if I hadn’t already suffered through plenty during the possession.

"What kind?" she asks.

"I'd… rather not get into it," I say. Nightmares about being imprisoned in a white cube doesn't sound like something an innocent man would have.

"Nightmares are a common post-possession symptom," she says. "Not surprising you'd have them."

"I see." I pause for a moment, but then remember why I'm here. "Right. I should get to the point." I clear my throat. "First of all, thanks for agreeing to meet me."

Dr Marsh nods, seating herself opposite me and lowering her coffee on the table. "I don't normally meet my clients outside work, but I can't deny that I'm curious as to what you have to say."

"Well," I sigh, "the first thing I want to say is an apology. I must have given you quite a scare with the way I was acting."

Dr Marsh waves a hand. "It's alright. You were under possession at the time. You can hardly be blamed."

You'd be surprised. Still, I nod. "I just hope the court will see it the same way."

She leans onto her elbow. "What exactly happened?"

"Well, I'm fuzzy on the details, too, but I took a hostage, apparently," I say, "at knifepoint."

"I see," she says. "Attempted murder."

The words still sound wrong. I guess when I've committed murders with such thorough consideration the one I hastily threaten to do doesn't feel like it should count.

"I can see why you're so worried," she adds. I flinch until I remember she's a master at reading people. I should expect no less.

"I was told I could be locked up for up to ten years," I say. "So, yeah, I'm worried."

"At least you're in Kanto," she points out. "In Unova, you could have been looking at life."

"Or the needle," I mutter. I'd be considerably more freaked out if that was a possibility.

I clear my throat. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something about that whole thing." I grab my palm. "I got a psych eval done by another psychiatrist, and that went without a hitch, but considering you met me while I was under possession, I feel like they'd ask you, too. If that's the case… what are you going to tell them?"

Dr Marsh lowers her cup, having just taken a sip. "I'm under no obligation to tell you, but I'll do you a favor," she says. "I'll tell them that you were on edge and that you seemed like you wanted to hide something. Mainly the fact that you have antisocial tendencies. But also the fact that you seemed to be hallucinating spiders."

Shit. Them finding out I have antisocial tendencies can't be good. Some small part of me considers killing her to keep her quiet, but it doesn't take a second before the rational part of my brain gives me all the reasons why that would be a bad idea.

"Why were you so insistent on keeping that secret?" she asks.

I look at my hands. "Didn't want to get locked up for being a hazard."

She huffs, amused. "I hope you know by now that that's not how it works."

"But I have a legitimate reason to wish you hadn't figured it out now, right? If the court knows I'm antisocial, they'll have a stronger reason to believe I committed that crime of my own volition."

"Maybe," she says, "but you were still possessed. They have to consider the fact that you may have been seeing things that gave you no choice."

"But I don't remember," I lie. "And even if I did, who's to say they'd believe me? I could just as well just be lying to cover my ass."

"That's exactly why possession cases are so tricky," she says. "And in this case, there's no ghost to measure your words against, either."

I sigh. "I guess there's no way to know how this'll go before it happens."

"Afraid so." She takes another sip. After a pause, she speaks again. "You're better off with a professional knowing you're antisocial, you know."

Doubtful. "Why is that?"

"More context to your mental health," she says. "It's easier to see why you would be depressed, for example, if you find yourself unable to connect with others."

I blink. "Do you think I'm depressed?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, are you?"

"I… don't know."

"If you don't know, it probably means you are."

Depressed. I mean, maybe? A little? I don't like my life. But…

"I get out of bed each morning," I tell her. "I work out and I shower. If I had school or a job, I'd go there without trouble. Shouldn't I have trouble with those things if I was depressed?"

"You can be functional and still be suffering on the inside," she says. "And, well, you strike me as someone with a lot going on beneath the surface."

I tap my finger on the table. "Depressed," I repeat. "Maybe. I don't have a lot to be happy about."

"You really should consider therapy," she hums. "You might find out things about yourself. Things that'll answer why you don't feel happier."

I frown. Of course I know why I'm not happy. I'm a predator in a world run by prey. It's what HE was supposed to fix.

But… there's a chance I'm not even going to get that now. If that's so, I have to work with what I have. Find a way to be content. I'll still die, and that's terrible, but… I should make the most of what life I do get.

Dr Marsh leans closer. "There is help for you," she says. "You just have to accept it."

I look into her eyes. Dark, like mine. But instead of good staring down evil, I just see another human.

Our faces stay expressionless. Frozen.

Until mine thaws.

“I think I’d like that help.”

---

END​

 

[Minnachu]

Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out…

It’s a breath ;) of fresh air to see someone describing the scene, rather than just saying “I breathed”

...No, nothing hurts. Only smears. Can move rest of way. Ugh, sweat glues to floor, wet hair on neck, gross. Foot uncomfortable, move --

Okay this is actually a bit frightening O.o

Depth. Sharpen. See shapes. Recognize. Room of basement, the hidden room. My room, should be safe.

Sounds like a medieval torture chamber O.o

Lots of red on it. Glistening middle. Blotches of color. Matches the lumps, kind of. Behind the human, there’s a board. Wooden. Belts. I made that. I… put her on that.

Okay that took a turn. I’m wondering if the narrator is the aggressor or victim here.

Her. I remember. I brought her here, unconscious. Strapped her to the board. Lit the candles - the little lights are candles. Set up the fire and water bowl - big light and metal - like I always do. Always do when I… bring an offering for...

HIM.

Oh my god. Is the narrator in some kind of cult or? O.o

HE was, right. I started the ritual, HE was there. HE approved of my offering. But then… I can't remember. How did I go from that moment to this? Who killed the woman? Was it me, or…

Yup, maybe it’s an individual cult, but it’s still a cult alright.

HE took over! HE took over my body! HE entered it, HE used it, used it to kill her. Accept the offering. Eat her flesh. Beautiful, wonderful, yes! This means the time is near. The time of ascension. Soon, very soon, HE will merge with me fully, and then everything’s gonna be --

I’m scared… >.<

As my surroundings sharpen further, I can make out the details of the lumps on the floor. As one could have guessed, they’re parts of her. Muscle, skin, fat, all sorts of tissue. Wildly and savagely thrown about. Just like you’d expect from the god of predators. Oh, I have to take a closer look at her body now. Cleaning up can wait just a few minutes.

I give you immense credit here, as I don’t think I can write such a scene without feeling well disturbed to say the least. You did a great job at setting the mood and wanting the readers to know more.

Red, pink, yellow, gray, purple, dark green. A flesh-tinted rainbow nested in her ventral cavity. Her organs - the ones that still remain - glisten in the fires’ light, eager to show off their beauty after two decades of darkness. Many of them, though, have large chunks of them missing, the lungs especially. They still leak blood and other fluids. It looks sad in a way, as if they were crying. But they're at rest now, just like all the others. Enslaved no more by the brain.

Rainbow organs?

Ngh, what do I do now? Is this a hazard? I know eating flesh raw is something HE discourages, but is it something HE would want me to try and empty my entire stomach for? I know the offering's blood was clean, thanks to HIS pre-ritual check, but does that translate to the flesh? Ugh, I really don't want to have to vomit, it burns my throat and leaves an awful taste in there for the whole day, but...

Oh god salmonella waiting to happen :3

Sure, having a tarp set up in advance for the whole ritual would make cleaning easier, but I'm just not a fan of how it looks. Brings down the atmosphere. And if the Helixians didn't need tarps all those millennia ago, neither do I.

Wait Lord Helix? O.o

I grab it by the hair and, to humor myself, lift it up high like a Kalosian revolutionary.

Absolutely love the reference here, major props!

Ignoring the missing flesh around the mouth, she's rather good-looking. Symmetrical, aesthetically pleasing proportions rather typical for a Tohjoan female. Smoothly curved bridge of nose, deep-set eyes, widow’s peak. Pure and healthy skin, although discolored now by loss of blood. Thin, neatly shaped eyebrows. They feel silky to the touch. As much as I can tell with gloves on, anyway.

Imagining this person’s description made me cry a little, can’t explain why.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Okay, so I love how you emphasize the alarm clock’s noises. I think small details like this helps set the mood for an interactive fic!

I sigh and stare at the digits of the alarm. 9:00. The prime time to rise and shine. To get out of bed, do your morning chores and then set off for school to learn about all the wonders of the world. Or for work, to earn the bread to eat, to give a share to the government for all the nice services they provide.

AHHHH I like how this passage is so simple, yet it’s also effective because it’s something so many people can relate to. Just add a comma before “and then set off for school”.

But I don’t do either. I can’t do either. Because to do those human things, you'd have to be human.

Okay, woah, plot twist!

And so, time after time, I drag myself through the hours and reach the prize at the end - sleep. That well-deserved escape from reality. Not that I remember any dreams, save for the occasional nightmare. I just like the idea of being able to skip eight hours of further boredom.

Felt this

All of this is of course funded by my dear mother who cares just enough to give me food and shelter. And then, I suppose, some money comes indirectly from her husband, whose son is the only family that dares to share a house with me. And then whatever Fonz earns from his short time jobs to live here and provide for -- it.

This reminds me of a few years back, I can totally relate

No, that's not true. Daily exercise is required to keep this body in proper shape. To skip that would be betraying HIM. You don't want to do that, do you?

Oof throwing shade at me eh? :3 JK we all need exercise.

No! No, I shouldn't. I shouldn't interrupt HIM - HE must be hard at work, making preparations and gathering strength. And if I saw HIM, HE might ask for another offering, and I wouldn't be able to say no even if it's only been a few weeks and I should wait longer to let the trail cool down… and lastly, I don't want to come to HIM while I still don't have that… one thing under control.

What thing? O.o

As expected, the omanyte lies in his arms. Big bright eyes, little tentacles. Patiently waiting as the nidoking gathers all the things needed for His day at school.

Lord Helix confirmed!

Oh Gods, another mistake. I thought of Him as a Him again. It!

Pronouns are important :3

“Oh, Red!” Abe says, raising a finger. “I wanted to remind you earlier, but I forgot...”

Wow didn’t realize it was Red the entire time. WAIT RED ISN'T A HUMAN?

Laughter. Two men next to one of the cars. They’re smiling, they’re talking about their families. They’re doing great. Yeah, I bet they’re doing great. Doing great is so easy for everyone else, so easy when you’re just like everyone else. Gods. I force my eyes onto the automatic doors and don’t let myself blink until I’ve slipped through.

I felt this hard. Even a simple task is hard, and I can relate.

Not that it’s very far from one as is. Dozens of voices, beeps, shuffles and taps echo around the spacious hall to assault any lovers of solitude. It reminds the listener that yes, humans really are just ants scaled up, just as busy and erratic and unable to think for themselves...

Honestly, collectivism is a good thing.

How many times does it need to be repeated? When will you get it through your skull?

Ugh, reminds me of those that refuse to use the right pronouns.

What worthlessness! What thanklessness towards their ancestors! The ones that built their own shelters, hunted their own food, made their own rules, all for these meek mareep to take it for granted and worry about the utterly pointless instead! Humans used to struggle for survival, and now these overgrown infants take it on a silver platter. They’re domesticated. Inbred by good times to be harmless, lazy and stupid!

Oof the narrator is reactionary and edgy >.<

I know what I have to do, and I know how I’ll do it. I’ll unsheathe my knife in the blink of an eye and slash it across as many throats as I can. Blood will spray on my face, mark me as the danger. They’ll all see it, and they’ll all run. Run and scream. In blind panic, some will flee deeper into the store and doom themselves merely by shortsightedness. Those will become my prey. Prey I’ll chase into the aisles, prey I’ll catch and tear apart, consume. Inhale their fear, taste their agony as my as my claw makes outsides of their insides. Their blood will soak me, splash onto the shelves. Paint the rainbow red. Brilliant, authentic red to break up the phony, lifeless hues of capitalism. Warmth for this cold day.

Okay as glad as I am that he hates Capitalism, damn this is way too extreme. His mindset legit reminds me of Fascists >.<. Also I think you repeated as my twice.

I draw out my card and stick it in the reader. After inputting the code - 2778 - and submitting, the screen confirms my purchase. I take back the card, and the cashier hands me a receipt. I nod and move on to load the items in my backpack one by one.

All talk no action as typical edgy peeps :3

"Oh, she's, um, my sister," he says. "Joanna. Sh-she's been missing for the past few weeks… almost two months…" His voice wavers between pre- and postpubescent.

Okay at this point I’m wondering if him “killing” her was an illusional or not.

A freezing wind snatches away my warmth, both physical and mental. Right. Can't let that bastard Red have any merriment, that's against the rules.

Wait isn’t he Red? O.o

I have a reason to keep going. I can reach immortality, endless bliss. They can’t... or they could, but they’re not aware of that option.

Playing God has clearly gone so well for other historical figures! /s

My first guess is a meowth, but it doesn't seem to fit. The shape and size of the golden object was wrong. What else could it be… oh! A golden magnemite? That'd be a sight! Hell, anything would be a sight after these weeks of nothing...

Gholdengo? But this is Sparta Kanto.

Smoothly curved bridge of nose, deep-set eyes, everything else. It’s Joanna. That’s Joanna’s face on that mask.

YAMASK

Wait, those wails have meaning? And she can understand them? I guess this Michi isn't just any ordinary girl.

Is she a ghost? O.o

"Say…" starts Michi, grasping her arms, "it's pretty cold and windy out here. There's an abandoned cabin nearby I like to hang out at. Do you wanna come?"

O.o I don’t like where this is going. (Morally I mean, I’m intrigued to know how it all plays out).

Stalking a little girl. Doesn't sound very good when I put it like that, does it.

FBI open up >:)

"Aura?" She has aura powers, too?

Lucario? :O

"Yeah. I'm alive."

Oh my god

After carving the psychic nullifier into my wrist and patching up the wounds, I copy the memory-eraser's pattern to my notebook to make sure I don't get it wrong. Then I gather the supplies I think I'll need in my backpack… vial of spores, rag, duct tape, scissors, naturally the notebook… anything else?

Ouch

Sorry for the late review! I’m just a slow reader and some other things have been caught up in life.

So first off, I think you’re a much better writer than I am, so I’ll do my best to give an honest and constructive review, even though I feel it’s probably just going to be generic. I specifically put in my thoughts on individual passages that really caught my eye.

Overall I’d have to say this is a very well-written prologue and first two chapters. You were able to make things suspenseful and interesting from start to finish. I enjoyed the twists such as finding that the main character is Red, Lord Helix cult, and Joanna turning into a Yamask!

I found a few grammar errors, but they weren’t major and I pointed it out in the specific passages. Ultimately, because I feel you’re a more advanced writer than I am, and I still have much to learn and improve, the only “criticism” I can really give is this genre while interesting and hooks the reader in, is also not my preferred genre. I enjoy journey and isekai fics a lot more haha. I also think there were a few scenes where rather than explaining in detail through the characters thoughts, portraying it in speech form would have worked better. Overall though, I think this is a great fic, thus far, and I’ll gladly put another review once I’m done all chapters up to date (Which bare with me will take quite some time).

 

[canisaries]

hi all! here i am with the extra i promised. this is the first thing i wrote from samson's perspective, so i had to go back and tweak it a little according to how i wrote samson in judgment.

anyway, rated teen for some violent imagery. see you next week for the upload of the first chapter of the sequel.

---

EXTRA
The Woodsman

---​

Its breath stinks. It’s like the time Eli got sick in the car.

But I have to keep breathing in the reeking air. If I stopped, I’d have even less of a chance of keeping the beast’s jaws at bay. My hands already tremble against the monster’s bristly snout and chin.

The beast doesn’t care. Its yellow eyes have yet to look away, let alone blink. Slimy drool drips down its jagged teeth and pools in its mouth. Its lungs continue to pump out its stinking breath. Could it actually be toxic? As if this creature wasn’t deadly enough.

I'm not gonna win this battle of strength. I should run away before my arms give in and the beast sinks its teeth in me. I just need to find a place to --

Mary? Mary! What are you doing here? Get away!

She’s standing a few meters away, eyes wide in terror, which I can understand well - this thing is scary even for Dad. But she needs to get away now! I've seen what this monster likes to do to little girls, and I couldn't bear seeing that happen to Mary… Arceus, please, let us get out of this alive!

"Daddy…?"

The beast's ears perk from Mary's whimper. It pulls back and turns its head to her.

"No!" I yell. Mary, what have you gone and done? I would've run in just a moment and led the beast away! You should've waited and fled then! No, you're only a kid… I shouldn't demand strategy like that from you… but if only you'd…

The beast slides its tongue across its teeth and turns the rest of its body to Mary. Its tail whips, audibly splitting the air. No, you stay away from her!

"Hey! Over here!" I scream at the monster, desperate for it to face me again, but it's deaf to me. I have to get to Mary. I have to shield her --

A powerful strike of the beast's left horn to my chest throws me onto my back with a sizeable bruise. It hurts, a lot. It may have broken a rib. But that doesn't matter, no pain matters, I have to get to Mary, Mary --

I catch her in my sight. The beast already has her in its claws. She screams and it's terrifying - I can feel her fear and so much more on top because the beast opens its jaws and --

I'm somewhere else.

Dark. Soft. Blanket, pillow…

I sigh. It was just a nightmare.

I check on Laura. She’s still fast asleep, her long brown hair in a bedhead. Good, I didn't wake her up by thrashing in my sleep or anything…

I rub my forehead. It's sticky from cold sweat, just like the rest of my body.

Should I try falling back asleep? I don't want to sink back into that dream, and lying here feels uncomfortable… I think I'll get up for a bit. Dry off, maybe get some water… anything to calm down my racing heart.

As quietly as I can, I lift the blanket off myself and get off the bed. The alarm shows 3:54 in orange digits. Figures. I slip through the bedroom door into the upstairs hall. The bathroom's to my right, but there's something else I want to do first.

To calm my paranoia, I open the door to Mary’s room. She’s in bed, sleeping soundly like a shaymin in its grotto. See? She’s fine.

No need to bother her anymore. I don’t want to wake her up just because Daddy had a silly dream. I close the door as carefully as I opened it and enter the bathroom.

Having washed up, I consider going back to bed, but… I just don’t feel tired. I should tucker myself out. But how? I don’t want to wake anyone else up, including Eli, who is much more alert… maybe I should take a walk outside. Nights this time of year are pretty and pleasantly cool. Seeing the world blanketed in darkness might help my brain realize it’s sleepy time, who knows.

This plan requires sneaking past Eli, though… heck, I’ll try it anyway. He can’t hear everything, can he? And he falls asleep so easily, he can take naps on command. That settled, I creep downstairs, avoiding the worst of the squeaky steps. Each whimper under my feet makes me cringe, but I’d be surprised if they were loud enough to wake Eli.

Downstairs, all that remains is to sneak through the entrance hall and out of the door. Eli’s bed is nearby, in the living room. We've told him it looks like we’re treating him as a feral, but he insists on it to 'guard' the house… Eli, it's not a son's job to guard his family. That should be mine. Or rather the locks’.

Turning the corner, I catch sight of him. As expected, he lies motionless, curled up under the blanket. If it weren’t for the white crescents of his horns, I wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of him in this darkness. Behind him lies the fireplace, long unlit. I should light it again soon. It would delight everyone. We’d need firewood first, though, as the basket is nearly empty. I should chop some. Actually, why wait? Chopping wood is both tiring and productive.

I make it to the door without Eli stirring and lift the keys off their hook. To pocket them, and to keep off mosquitoes, I take a jacket from the coat rack as well. I slip my feet into a pair of worn rubber boots. Now comes the hardest part…

I twist the handle and nudge the door open. The hinges creak and the frame clacks, but slowly, slowly... I keep still and check Eli. He doesn’t move. Maybe this only seems louder in the silence. I open the door just enough to fit myself through and close it with equal care. Whew. Mission successful.

The air is cool and clear. The streetlights provide just enough light to see ahead with relative clarity, all I currently need. Gentle gusts swirl in the trees while wildlife of the night chatters and chirps, certain sounds less pleasant than others. But a croak is a poem to a murkrow, as the scripture says - there's beauty beyond human preference.

I circle to the back yard and unlock the shed without worry. There's much more room for noise out here. Even for chopping wood, though…? I'm starting to see a fatal flaw in this plan. Well… I guess I'll try to chop quietly, then? Is that possible?

Ah, no worries. It's not like I got anyone's hopes up. I only really need to give myself something to do.

The logs feel dry as I carry a few of them to the chopping block. Nice, much better than being damp and hard to cleave Now for the axe…

I lift it out from its usual crevice between the wall and a pile of boxes. As I bring the axe outside, the light hits its head and glimmers on its metal. I find my left hand on my throat.

I sigh and pry it away. My throat is left feeling vulnerable, but I can’t keep feeding that habit. It’ll go away slower that way.

I tried to keep yesterday’s events from my mind as best as I could, but now I’m just in too deep to escape. I can’t block the image of that kid and his knife so near my throat. I was so close to death. Everything could’ve ended with just one mistake. Not even a mistake. That kid was so unstable, so crazed that he may have done it without any reason…

At least I had the comfort of seeing him cured. After the exorcism, after he’d woken up, he was back to his senses and seemed alright. He didn’t remember anything, or so he said, so there was little hope of getting an apology, but it’s not like I needed one. I’ve already forgiven him.

I move back to the block, set up a log and do some practice hacks to see how quietly I could do it while still making progress. Settling for the best result, I keep hacking at a steady pace, replacing the log with a new one after finishing. That chopping as background music, the events of the exorcism replay in my head.

The chapel that appeared around me, regally decorated to a ridiculous extent. The bodies on the floor - the policewoman and a copy of myself, both robed in bloodstained white. The kid in front of me, on the board… he was only a head and a bloody blanket of skin dangling from his neck, but somehow still alive. And absolutely horrified.

Then I heard screaming. I turned around, and saw… that thing.

The Creator wants us to respect all mon, no matter how unsightly they may seem. I agree, but it simply couldn't have been a mon. Not even a kind I'd be unfamiliar with. It was a demon.

I hear the front door open. Shoot, did I wake someone up after all? There are steps… they sound like paws. Eli, it seems. Soon enough, the houndoom peeks his head around the corner of the house.

"Oh, there you are," he says, walking closer. "Knew it was you by the scent. What are you doing?"

I sigh. "Had a bad dream and couldn't fall back asleep. Thought I'd do something useful. Sorry for waking you up, tried my best not to."

"Nah, it's okay…" He sits down next to me and leans his neck against my leg. He's warm as always. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Eh…"

He stares up at me. "Was it about what happened yesterday?"

Looking back at his puppy eyes, I can't bring myself to lie. "Yeah…"

"You gotta talk about it, Dad. If you don't, we can't comfort you right."

"But I don't want to worry you. I don't want to give you nightmares, too…"

He playfully bumps me with a horn. "Hey, come on. I'm a big, bad houndoom. I'll burn any monsters right up."

“Alright,” I sigh. I set the axe aside and sit on the chopping block. “But you have to promise me you won’t get scared.”

“Pbbt. I promise.”

“Okay.” I pause. “So how much do you know about what happened to me yesterday?”

“Well, I know you met the guy who was rude to you the other day and that he held you hostage,” he says, voice lowered as he knows that must’ve been frightening to go through. “And that you figured he was possessed and then, after the police got you safe and arrested him, you performed an exorcism on him. That’s about the extent of what I know.” He shuffles closer. “But I can tell there’s stuff you aren’t telling, even if it’s just talking about how you felt...”

“Yeah... it’s true. There’s more to it.”

I pet Eli’s neck, feeling his silky fur, and position myself more comfortably. Which admittedly is hard on what's essentially a tree stump.

"He was trying to exorcise her," I tell him. "I told the police I couldn't remember, but I'm certain of it. The things he was saying…" I rub my chin. "It seemed like he was trying to read an exorcism from a book, but she had made the pages blank. He threatened me in order to get her to show them."

"Did it work?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "She appeared to show herself to him, and they talked for a bit. It sounded like she was giving herself up. You know, turning tangible. Letting him kill her. He swiped with his knife, but a magneton snatched it away. That's when I… well.” I chuckle. “I elbowed him in the chest. I hope there’s no hard feelings. If he remembers, that is. He said he didn’t remember much when I met him afterwards."

“Do you believe him?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. Memory loss in possession cases isn’t uncommon, but he could be lying to protect himself.”

Eli stares at his side, unmoving. Before I can ask, he spits a small flame onto himself, then blows something burnt off.

"Mosquito," he says. "Sorry. Keep going."

Well… alright, then. I clear my throat.

“The police then arrested him. He was struggling and screaming the whole time, about how this was a misunderstanding and the like. I came up to the police and explained to them that he was possessed, and I showed my exorcist license. We then took the kid to the hospital, to the spiritual operation room, where he was strapped down and I performed… the exorcism.”

Eli notices my troubled expression. “What happened during the exorcism?”

“He was a mess,” I tell him. “Yelling something unintelligible, convulsing, even screaming in pain. And then… something unsettling happened.”

“What was it?”

"Towards the end of the session, the room changed around me. It’s happened to me before - as you know, sometimes the exorcist can start to see whatever illusion is being shown at the moment - but the imagery I saw… was simply strange. Usually it’s pretty straightforward, just general scary stuff or replaying some past event, but this one was odd. And disturbing.”

I describe the scene to him - the chapel, the bodies, the kid on the board as just a head and a cloak of shed skin - though leave out the most brutal details. He’ll get the gist without them.

“Then I heard screaming. I turned around and I saw this… huge, monstrous creature,” I explain. The memory of its vicious stare still makes me shudder. “It was kind of like a mix between a tauros, an ursaring and…”

I sigh. I don’t want my son to think there’s anything wrong with him.

“A houndoom?” Eli completes for me. There’s no resentment in his voice, but my nod is still reluctant.

“It’s okay, Dad, I don’t mind,” he says. “I know humans just naturally think my kind is scary-looking. It’s not your fault for having instincts. At least yours doesn’t make you wanna smell others’ butts.”

I snort and give him a scratch behind the ear. “Yeah, yeah...”

“So, what happened then?”

“Well, there were more robed people in the room, and the monster was going all out on them,” I continue. “The were pretty much no match for it, and they all fell. There were some mon too, like the arcanine and the magneton of the police trying to protect the humans, but both ended up losing as well.

"And then there's the thing that really upset me… against the wall, there was this little girl, maybe twelve years old, and the beast went for her next. It..."

I pause. Eli can say he can handle whatever I say and look at me with those curious eyes all he wants, but I'm taking creative liberties with this part.

"The beast knocked the life out of her," I continue. "I'd finally had enough at that point and just closed my eyes and kept reciting the exorcism. I tried to block out any sounds around me, but one caught me off guard - someone yelling 'stop, stop'. I had to see what it was and opened my eyes. It was a ghost, a yamask, in the mouth of the beast. She was looking straight at me, terrified.

"But I couldn't stop. I had to go on to free the kid and to free the ghost, who probably was the one I was staring at. I figured she must have thought the exorcism I was doing was lethal - which it wasn't, of course, so I ignored her for the time being and kept speaking. But… she yelled something over it, right before the beast ate her whole. She said… 'he killed me'. Twice."

"Did… she not explain that before she left, then?" asks Eli, oblivious. His innocence really twists the knife in my heart.

"She…" The bitter squeeze on my throat makes it hard to speak. "She didn't make it," I finally get out. "Something interfered as she was leaving the body. Later on, someone suggested it was this marking carved on the kid's wrist. Looked like some witchcrafty stuff, apparently… I had no idea."

"...Oh." Eli leans onto me. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah…" I take a deep breath. "But, you know, I tried my best, and I couldn't have known, so…"

"Yeah, it's not your fault. You only tried to help."

“And she’s in a better place now. I’m praying for her.”

“I’ll pray for her too.”

I rub Eli’s neck, and we stay like that for a few seconds.

“So...” he starts, “what was the nightmare like?”

“Ah, well, not too complicated. The beast was there, and it was going for me and Mary… I woke up pretty quickly, but it still made me feel lousy. I mean… I think I’m kind of over it now. I know it was just a dream and that it couldn’t happen in real life since the beast was just an illusion. But the other stuff…”

“Like what the kid said and what the ghost said?”

“Yeah. And what I saw in the illusion. Like, where did it all come from? I was the only Arcean in the room in real life, but the illusion had an entire chapel with everyone in robes. And the possessed kid… why was he just a head? What was the beast all about? If it was made by the ghost, why did it eat her? And who was that little girl?”

“Did you ask the possessed kid?”

“No,” I sighed. “And I didn’t tell the police anything.”

Eli frowns. “Why not? This could be important.”

“I… I don’t want the kid to get in trouble based on just some illusion,” I get out. “It could ruin his life. I asked the police - they said he could get up to ten years. He’d lose his entire youth.”

Eli gets up. “But what if he did do something? What if he really did kill that ghost?”

I shrink. He did give off a troubling impression. I don’t know what he was seeing or believing at the time, but he did still keep me hostage. And he was pretty aggressive at the beach.

“But… what about the beast?” I ask. “It attacked the ghost, and it didn’t seem friendly to the kid, either…”

“Maybe she lost control of her illusion due to the exorcism,” Eli suggests. “Can that happen?”

“Well… the host can begin to mentally overpower their possessor, but the kid clearly wasn’t in control, either. He was dying.”

“Hmm…”

Eli stares at the ground in contemplation. I join him in his gravel-studying until he speaks up again.

“Are you sure there was only one ghost?”

“Huh?”

“What if there was another ghost?” he asks. “Like, another one possessing the kid.”

“Another...” I pause to think. I didn’t distinctly feel another presence, but… what would it even feel like? Would I be able to tell how many ghosts there are?

“It could’ve been the beast,” Eli suggests. “That’d explain where it came from.”

“I’ve never met anyone with multiple ghosts in them before...”

“But it should be possible, right? I mean, spiritomb exist.”

“Well, that’s a special keystone rather than a human body, but you’re on to something...”

It would make sense. The kid’s violent behavior, the beast, the yamask’s final words… all of those would’ve been caused by the malicious ghost, while the yamask could’ve been someone caught in the crossfire or even someone trying to help...

Or maybe there was no yamask in the first place? Maybe this hostile ghost created it to try and stop me from completing the exorcism so it could stay in the kid. If it knew that the seal would interfere, it would’ve been trying to stay alive. Maybe it’s like that one nurse suggested, maybe this ghost actually created the seal for… whatever powers it might give.

A flash of light snaps me from my thoughts. Eli has blown another flame.

“Do you wanna go inside?” he asks. “The mosquitos are annoying. You’ll get better firewood if you chop them during daylight, anyway.”

He’s right. I think I feel better by now, anyway. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Having returned the axe and logs to their original places, Eli and I walk to the front door. Still careful not to make too much noise, we slip in, and I put my keys and outdoor apparel back where they belong.

"You wanna talk on the couch?" asks Eli quietly.

I stop to think.

"You know what," I finally start, "I think I'm good. That double-ghost theory of yours explains a good bunch of things. I think I'm gonna be able to sleep now."

"Oh? You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks. It helped to talk about all this. But I think it's time we both headed back to bed."

"Well, alright," Eli says, returning to his bed in the living room and curling up comfortably. "If you ever need to talk more, though, I'm here for you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Eli lays his head down, and I quietly climb back up the stairs. I check on Mary one more time before entering my bedroom to make sure I didn't disturb her. I did not. Smiling, I climb back onto my bed and shuffle under the covers, which have dried from the sweat by now.

Just as I think I've succeeded in my sneaking, Laura stirs on her side of the bed. She opens her eyes and squints at me despite my attempts to stay as still as possible.

"Mark…?" she mumbles.

"Sorry, it's nothing, just had a nightmare," I whisper, defeated.

“Mhh...” She turns over and says nothing more.

There goes that… oh, well. It didn't seem to bother her too much, so I shouldn't let it bother me. I rest my head on the pillow and close my eyes.

Two ghosts… I don't know why I didn't think of that before. It explains so much that it now seems obvious.

I mean, it doesn't settle everything. It doesn't tell me what the story behind those two ghosts was or what that little girl in the illusion had to do with them.

Should I have told the police? I feel like I’ve lied to them. Stood in the way of the truth. I mean, they wouldn't put the kid in jail just for some imagery in an illusion, right?

Well, I do have the option of still telling them, either by calling or whenever we meet next. I don't want to bother them for something non-urgent, so I guess I'll wait for the next meeting. I'll have decided what to do by then.

I stare into the darkness of my eyelids, mind blank for a few seconds.

That other ghost… I really wonder what made it do all that. Ghosts may have their own views on morality, but they’re still motivated by things. And this one must have been very intelligent, able to speak and manipulate a complex illusion like that. What could have made it so angry? Unless… it wasn’t angry, and it was just having fun…

I shudder. I hope not. I’d like to believe the best of everyone, be they human or ghost.

Well, at least the ghost is in Arceus’ hands now. And so is that yamask. He’ll know what to do with them.

O Creator, take good care of them, I pray briefly. I feel better right away.

Yes… that’s right. Let Arceus handle it, that’s what I should do.

I wrap myself in my blanket and sink into sleep.

 

[canisaries]

hey everyone! just popping in to say the first chapter of the sequel story has been posted. have a good day!

 

[HelloYellow17]

Howdy! I’m here for (a very late) Catnip!

Wow, I definitely thought I had reviewed a whole lot more than just the prologue—I guess I’ve read up to chapter 5 or 6, but never reviewed them! It’s for the best, though, because I definitely needed the reread. I picked up on a few new things this time around.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Ah.

Morning.

My room. Gray walls. Light leaking in from the crevice between the curtain and the bottom of the window. Pale light. You know what that means - another cloudy day.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I suppose I should get up. Or at least turn that thing off.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Alright.

Man this is the biggest mood of all time. I hate mornings. So much. And the resigned, apathetic response from Red here is just so dang relatable.

Actually, this whole scene sets the mood really well. We get a very solid grasp on Red’s headspace and how he feels about…everything. Life. Other people. As someone currently in a little depression slump, this weary apathy strikes home for me. Some days really do just feel so painfully monotonous and pointless, and cloudy skies definitely don’t help, heh.

As expected, the omanyte lies in his arms. Big bright eyes, little tentacles. Patiently waiting as the nidoking gathers all the things needed for His day at school.

No, its!

Oh Gods, another mistake. I thought of Him as a Him again. It!

I slip a mental hand inside my ribcage and squeeze my heart. No feeling. No feeling of joy or affection or anything of the sort. You’re not allowed to see Him -- it in that light anymore. As far as you’re concerned, the omanyte is just an omanyte. An animal, a pile of flesh and organs. Not your lord, not your master. That role belongs only to HIM.

This made me sad. :( The one thing Red cares about, the one thing that brings him joy, and he is actively depriving himself from feeling those emotions. The internal struggle here feels so raw and it’s executed well. He’s so desperately trying to convince himself he doesn’t care.

“Good,” he says, like a parent, despite his young age of fifteen and lack of actual blood relation to me. “Oh, by the way, can you get some groceries if you’re not doing anything else by then?”

Two things to do today? Oh boy, I’m being spoiled. “Sure.”

“Oh boy, I’m being spoiled.” 😂 Red is such a brat, but I can’t help but find this a little amusing. The snark is so real.

What a waste of the late spring season. These days should have warm sunshine while the air is still cool and dry. Nature should be shaking its grogginess from March and April, fully awakening to blossom and celebrating life in all its forms - plants, animals, wild mon. But here I walk under a sheet of hazy clouds too thin to bring rain, but too thick to let the warmth of the sun through. What a disgrace.

ALSO a mood. I, too, get irrationally annoyed when spring weather stays cold for too long. Just give me the freaking sun already! This also checks out with the way Red identifies himself as a Houndoom—fire type, and all. Of course he prefers the sun. (And aren’t Helixians a desert people, as well?)

Laughter. Two men next to one of the cars. They’re smiling, they’re talking about their families. They’re doing great. Yeah, I bet they’re doing great. Doing great is so easy for everyone else, so easy when you’re just like everyone else. Gods. I force my eyes onto the automatic doors and don’t let myself blink until I’ve slipped through.

Interestingly enough, this paragraph is what stood out to me the most on this read. I think it may have to do with me being in a different (read: not the best) headspace right now, but I honestly felt for Red here.

When I read this chapter the first time, I chalked all of his attitude up to his beliefs and dedication to HELIX. Which, yes, that does play a role, but now I’m realizing it goes deeper than that. Does Red actually feel and believe these things with every fiber of his being? Or is he just…a scared, traumatized, severely depressed young adult trying to cope? I think the themes of depression were lost on me the first time, but they’re pretty darn clear this time. Makes me wonder how different things would have been if someone else had found Red and taken him in before HELIX. Would he have even been receptive to anyone else? It’s interesting to think about.

I shove can into the basket and head for the checkouts.

Missing a “the” in the sentence here.

Isn’t the mother doing anything? No, she isn’t. How can she bear this? If this was my kid, I’d have chucked it out the window a long time ago.

I’m sorry, I laughed. 😂 And this is coming from someone who actually wants kids, but boy, sometimes it do feel like that! Especially if you’re trapped on an airplane with a screaming child. Lawd help me.

These people… they so clearly want that screaming to stop, and yet they refuse to act. Why?

Okay, but to be fair…what would “choosing to act” look like in this scenario, Red? 😂 Yelling at the mom? Nobody can shut the baby up…unless they resort to violence, which is a Big Yikes, of course, but Red is so disconnected at this point that he doesn’t seem to understand why that is. His spiral that immediately follows this—the way a crying baby leads him to fantasize about murdering everyone in the store—really illustrates just how detached from reality he is. The logic doesn’t even stack up, but he’s too far in his own head to realize this.

That was close. Way too close. I was millimeters away from making that fantasy real.

Honestly, this was chilling, and I mean that in a good way. Like…it feels so real? I don’t know how serial killers think irl, but I imagine it’s pretty close to this. A slow decline into this way of thinking, getting worse over time, continually “othering” themselves from the rest of society and dehumanizing everyone else, to the point where they don’t even recognize how wrong and twisted their whole perspective is. It’s eerie and haunting and very vividly depicted here.

This is a great chapter—Red does very mundane, normal things here, which is used contrast how very not normal he is, himself. I enjoy that he ends up chasing after the Yamask at the end—I think the end of the chapter could pack a stronger punch if it’s revealed what he sees, which is Joanna’s face. Totally up to you, though!

Very good stuff, I love me a good psychological feast to pick apart, and that’s the whole point of this chapter!

 

[Joshthewriter]

The path before me winds and forks, leading astray the less familiar, but no hesitation plagues my steps. I know the way.

I love this slow intro to the chapter, you have such a way with scene-setting. I’ve noticed that you really excel at making these normal situations uncomfy through Red’s narration.

"Fuck you!" chirps the pidgey perched in a nearby rowan. Its beady black eyes radiate innocence, starkly contrasting its words. Why would…

The idea behind a pidgey cursing like a sailor has legs lol. I don’t typically like pokemon speaking, but this bit is gold. If nothing else, this is proof that there’s more to be mined from the “pokemon speak” idea than I thought.

There’s no satisfaction in destroying something like this. It doesn’t break beautifully. It’s only elegant if intact.

Oh geez, all this guy thinks about is killing or breaking things. At least he didn’t hurt the bird. I think that would have genuinely upset me.

I reset my face, then sprinkle on a little ignorance. Voice painted with innocence, I call out. “Hello?”

Oh Red, I don’t think you’re convincing anyone with that innocent voice. Especially if Michi is aura sensitive. She probably sees right through you.

Or… your precautions actually worked and hid your aura. Still, that’s gotta be suspiciou.

I'm not… good with people."

That might be the largest understatement I’ve ever seen in fic.

On the other hand, he does seem to understand how to work people better than most normies. I know you’ve been touching on this lately for the sequel, but Red does honestly seem like he knows his own limitations and strengths very very well. I know he’s a psycho, but he does know how people think.

”So you stole from her, too?”

Michi is such a fucking joy lol. Someone sassing Red back so readily is probably not a normal situation for him.

She’s like a squeaky toy, fun.

Oh no, that doesn’t bode well for our captive. Red’s enjoying this all too much, and I don’t trust that it’s not gonna go horribly.

I bring the mask to my face and press it on. The chill burns - I grit my teeth to help bear it. At least it fits well, surprisingly enough. Really well...

Ummmmmm… Red… What the hell made you think putting on a creepy ghost mask of a chick you killed and ate was a good idea?

No really, for someone who seems usually methodical and cautious, this is really a rash move. He’s barely done any research outside of one reading session. Wouldnt a better move be capturing the yamask and pitching the ball into the ocean or something?

Yes, she’s full of it - the warm, sticky, salty, wonderful red fluid. And flesh. She has flesh. She’s corporeal. She feels pain. She’s dying.

That… that’s probably not Joanna, is it. I have a sinking feeling that Michi is the target of Mr. “lemme put on a ghost mask” here. Makes sense, since he kinda already ate Joanna. I don’t really think that putting on a mask would bring her back.

It has been done.

I’ve got a feeling that you aren’t getting off that easily Red. Especially since you 10000000% just killed Michi instead of a ghost.

I want to again comment on the way you open scenes and chapters. You’re so efficient with your descriptions and prose. One sentence in and I already have a fantastically clear image in mind as Red walks through the forest.

Another fantastic chapter! Good luck writing, and I’m sure I’ll be back at some point to continue the fic!