Here it is, finally, after
two years: the finale of Seiren. Two years, that's how long ago the original version's penultimate chapter was posted, and it never received its conclusion - until now!
I need to say, however, that this isn't really the end, as I'm intending to still write a short epilogue tying up some loose ends. Yep, even after the near 8k words of this there are things left to do. (And of course Red returns in other stories, such as the
infamous
Hunter, Haunted!) But for now, here is the finale. I hope it's worth the wait.
Rated
teen as always, for violence, language and mentions of sexual content. Enjoy.
---
CHAPTER TWELVE
Calamari on The Rocks
---
The pidgeot’s golden eyes stare deep into mine, unblinking.
For five deafening beats of my heart, nothing happens. I don’t move, Jess doesn’t move, the ball doesn’t move, everything is silent. But on the sixth thump, his beak cracks open.
“What’s going on?” he asks. Quietly, voice wavering. He’s afraid. He might even be as afraid as me.
I should respond. When people ask questions, you’re supposed to respond. That’s how you let them know you’re normal. That’s what keeps them satisfied.
But I don’t think there’s anything I could say that would satisfy Jess. No convenient string of words that could get me out of this mess. Instead, I have to focus on salvaging what I can. Nullifying the immediate danger.
I lunge at the ball in his grasp. He lifts the foot, shit! Another try, but he hops back!
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jess says. “Not until you explain. A-and maybe not even then.”
Explain. I can’t explain. But I need the ball, she might get out. ‘Give me the ball’, should I say that? No, that won’t change a thing. I need… some level of reasoning. Some common goal.
“She’s crazy,” I say. “She needs to stay in. She tried to kill me! Y-you saw that, right?”
Jess’s digits tense around the ball. He recognized a truth. So he did see her attack me. Then why isn’t he giving it? She still hasn’t come out, there’s still time, but there might not be much more. Unless she’s already passed out…? I did use two spikes, but she’s a malamar now, much larger… I need to be prepared for the worst.
Jess moves -- I flinch, but calm down as I realize he’s simply sitting down. On top of the ball, like it was an egg.
“There,” he says, shielding the front with his talons. “She can’t get out now, r-right?”
I don’t know. That seems pretty flimsy. I feel like a ball could still transport past that. But that agitated look in Jess’s eyes tells me he’d claw my hands off if I tried to take the ball by force. This will have to do. I just need to hope that, in the case of Shirlee actually getting out, he’ll agree to recall her as fast as possible.
Some kind of stability now reached, I can slowly get up to my knees. I catch whatever’s left uncaught of my breath. Shirlee’s still not coming out.
“You still gotta tell me what’s going on,” says Jess.
Right. This problem. Jess knows something’s up. And if I can’t convince him everything’s alright, he won’t give me the ball. And even if I do convince him, he’s still going to have more questions. Especially when Shirlee’s evolution goes public.
But… I can make him forget. Just like Shirlee. I just need to find a way to knock him out. Quietly. If he screams or screeches or squawks, whatever noise he would make, the house would wake up, and they’d have questions of their own. Like ‘where’s Jess?’ Well, he’d be scattered across Viridian forest in small bloody chunks if I got to do what I really wanted, but he needs to stay alive. Just ignorant.
“Like, who was that?” Jess asks. “And what were you doing down there?”
I take a deep breath. “It’s… complicated.” That much is true.
“Give me the gist.”
“Well...”
Think quickly. What can you say? Why would you be downstairs with a malamar, hidden from everyone?
...I can’t believe I’m going to use this excuse again.
I sigh. “It’s a sex thing.”
Jess blinks. “What?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know this, but… I’m sexually attracted to the inkay line.”
Jess’s beak hangs ajar. He looks at the basement stairs. “So you two were...”
“Yeah.”
He looks at the ball.
“C-consensually!” I add. “That was just… to spice things up. We’re both kind of… different...”
“When did this all happen? Where did you...”
Uhh… wait, of course! “Y-you remember how you saw me texting someone named ‘Shirlee’ the other day?”
“...Uh-huh?”
“Well, that was a… ‘performer’ of a kind. She can play roles when she’s… um...” I clear my throat. “Anyway, she ended up accidentally evolving in the middle, at the heat of the moment, I guess, and freaked out...”
“And tried to strangle you?”
I clench my teeth. Can’t you just buy this story? You’d make it so much easier for the both of us. “Yes. She freaked out pretty hard.”
“And you had those… spikes on you?”
He saw that too, did he? “Qwilfish spikes. They were close by, and she really needed to calm down...”
He glances away, then back at the ball. “We should call the cops.”
“No!” Shit, that came out unfiltered. Too panicked, and Jess has noticed it. He jumps up and hops backwards on his free leg, eyes wide with fear.
“W-why not, Red?” he demands, voice wavering. “What can’t the cops know?”
“No, it’s not like that! I swear! Just -- please, put her back down...” If he accidentally released her, the consequences could still be dire.
Jess stops with a flinch, remembering the hazard in his claws, and reluctantly sits back down. I can breathe a bit easier.
“I just don’t want this to blow up,” I explain. “And neither would she… we can settle this without any authority. So we shouldn’t waste their time.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Listen, just..” I reach out my palm. “Just give me the ball. She needs to be put in a safe place for the night. Somewhere she can rest and get back to her senses. Where she can’t hurt anyone, or herself...”
He looks into my eyes. I stare as deep into his as I can. Please. Accept the terms. Let me free you of your mental burden.
He takes a deep breath - but he isn't giving the ball.
“Look, you can watch me do it,” I add. That’s how I’ll lead him downstairs. There I can knock him out.
“I-I don’t know...” He stares at the floor, tucking the ball deeper into his plumage.
Son of a bitch. This whole operation's going to shit just because of this nosy little pidgey. Isn't he supposed to be helping me? He was my teammate. A kind of friend, even. And he's been wanting to reconnect. Give me advice.
Maybe I can use that?
“Jess...” I start. “Please. This is important to me. That girl… it’s not just business between us. She might actually be someone I can… be with. Someone outside Him.”
He raises his gaze.
“You said I needed something else in my life,” I continue, “and this could finally be something like that. I really don’t want to fuck this up… any worse than I already have. So… please, just let me put her somewhere safe. For everyone’s sake.”
For a while, he sits still. The ticking of a nearby clock underlines each additional second he’s spent quiet.
“...Okay,” he sighs.
Yes! I suppress my delight, toning it down to a sensible level before letting it shine through. “Thanks, Jess.”
“Carry me there,” he says. “I wanna see where you put her.”
I smile. “Of course.”
Carefully, I draw close to Jess and shuffle my hands underneath him. Part of me expects him to tear my fingers to shreds after all - his eyes are still wide as plates from stress, looking better fit for a noctowl - but fortunately, he doesn’t.
I lift him up, holding him against my chest to cover the weak points of our fleshy barrier for the ball. Like any flying creature, he’s light for his size. I can feel his heart pound against my chest, way faster than mine, fast even for a bird. I should still be careful not to make quick motions.
Keeping an eye on each step, I descend the stairs. He’s going to see the bookcase soon... I better load up an explanation on the tip of my tongue. But not fire it too fast.
“Huh…?” leaves his beak. There it is. He tries to twist his neck for a better view. “Why is… has that room always been there?”
“Yeah,” I start slowly. “My mom lost the key for it and so figured the door was basically as good as a wall. I found the key some time ago, but decided to keep it a secret. Sometimes I like being alone. And, well... it was the only place private enough for our… affairs.”
He isn’t ripping his way out of my hold, so he must be buying it well enough. Good. I hope that trust stays long enough for me to trap him…
I reach the floor and soon the end of the hallway. Well, here comes the plunge. Once I enter the room, I'll need to deposit Shirlee very quickly so that Jess doesn't have too long to realize I'm not planning on letting him leave. Oh, hold on.
"Can you minimize her?" I ask Jess. Probably should've done that sooner, would've made her easier to cover.
"Ah, sure." He clicks a button, and the ball shrinks. I take the moment for a deep breath. Alright.
I open the cracked door and slip in, shutting it behind me. Jess already swivels his head around, taking in all the sights, but I march straight for the wooden toolbox on the desk. Still open. Still has the pack of spikes, along with the key to the room. I pick out the key to pocket it and lift the bag.
"Put her here," I say, nudging Jess. “And do it quickly, so she can’t break free.”
“R-right,” he responds. I quickly turn him around and he extends his foot, the ball nested within. But he isn’t dropping it. Why aren’t you dropping it, you moron?
Gods, he’s too hesitant. Looks like I may need to resort to plan B.
“Right here,” I say, gently pushing down his talons down with the plastic until it meets the tools. I let go and lower the lid of the toolbox onto his foot. “Come on, let go, she might get out.”
“Listen, I-I don’t know about this...”
He’s made his choice, then.
I slam down onto the lid, catching his ankle between it and the edge. Startled by pain, his claws open up, and I yank him back by the neck - leaving the ball in the box and throwing him onto the floor.
He screeches harshly as he lands on his back, but I can't let it distract me. I leap to the door and lock it as fast as I can, while he's still struggling to upright himself.
"What the fuck?" he yells, and I finish right on that cue. I turn around just in time to see him charge at me. A kick will protect me! I raise my foot, but his reflexes have quickened with his confusion subsiding. He hops back, but then lunges again for a snap at my toes, which I barely avoid. Dammit, I really wish I had shoes right now!
"What the hell's going on?" he demands, wings open in a threat display.
"I'm keeping things simple for the both of us," I say, tense. Maybe he can be reasoned with. "You don't want to find out the truth, and I don't want anyone to know. Let me wipe your memory."
"What are you talking about? How would you even --"
He stops to set his eyes on the toolbox. I know what he's going to do, and I slide over to the desk right as he takes flight. Grab the box -- no, his talons are out, instead wait for him to land and -- there!
His claws on the box, his chest is open for a strike, and I take the chance. My fist collides hard with his chest, specifically the crop, and he recoils enough for me to snatch the box. But I can't keep it from him like this, he'll tear my arms apart. And I can't keep fighting him - he's a battler, after all, even if six years have passed. I need the drug. The rag. And it's on the floor, still in the spot where it fell when I tried to throw it before. But will it have enough juice? I have to try.
I duck and set the box on the floor, sliding it right where the wall meets the side of the desk. I grab the rag and -- augh!
Cold claws grasp my shoulders as a weight lowers onto my back. Their tips pinch the skin, and I fear something sharper is to come - his beak. I shake my body to get him off, but he's balancing too well. Well, how about this?
I stand up straight, turn around and slam onto the wall. His wing bends wrong against my back.
Crunch.
"Gaaahh!" Jess cries, dropping down to the floor. Wait, how badly did I...
My survival instincts block that question for now. I grab onto Jess's beak with the rag and onto his neck with the right.
He wriggles in my hold, clawing at my arms, but his reach isn't enough -- ow, nevermind, though that didn't sting too bad… all I need to do now is wait. He’s getting sluggish already.
But this rag is pretty dry… I should soak it again just in case. It won't take long, and Jess won't be able to move very fast if I really injured his wing, or even… yeah.
I move my hand from his neck to grab his feet instead and lift him up. The rest of his body dangles limply save for faint motions accompanied by whines as I carry him to the base of the altar, away from the toolbox. He's definitely not in the shape to fight anymore.
Eager to get this over with, I take the rag from his beak and grab the vial on the altar for a new dousing.
"P-please..."
He can still talk?
"Please don't hurt me…" Jess whimpers.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," I tell him, and it's actually true. "I'm putting you under, in fact. You won't feel a thing when I wipe your memory. So…" I pop open the vial's cap, sighing. "Just relax. You don't wanna make your wing even worse."
Having wetted the rag with more spore-liquid, I close the vial and crouch down to Jess. He flinches with the little strength he has left. As I'm about to cover his beak again, he says something more.
"Why… are you like this…?"
Like this?
I was always like this. Cold-hearted, as someone might say. But what brought me to this situation, the events leading up to this, my obsession over Him… that wasn't inside me before.
So this'll be your answer.
"You should know," I mutter. "You were there."
With that, I muzzle the beak of my beloved former ace, and don't let go until he's gone completely limp.
---
I didn't sleep well that night.
Things had gone smoothly after Jess was knocked out, yes. I’d released Shirlee to check whether she was still awake or not, rag drenched and ready to pacify her, and to my great relief, the spikes had done their job. Wanting to play it safe, I kept the rag on her beak for a little longer before moving on to carving the seals.
Nothing had gone wrong there, either. While the carving was far more difficult for Jess given his plumage, I managed to draw on the skin between his feathers. After finishing the sigil with no slips of my hand, the symbol had glowed to let me know the erasure had been successful. The same went for Shirlee - though in her case, I of course set the time frame to be several hours instead of simply one. She needed to forget the end of our alley meetup as well, after all.
But all this luck couldn't shelter me from the storm of worry that ravaged my brain each moment spent lying awake. The fact stood that I'd injured Jess's wing somehow, possibly even broken it, and something like that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Sure, there was nothing tying me to that injury - I even checked for stray hairs of mine on his body - but it's guaranteed to cause a stir. And stirs put everyone on high alert. That's never good.
There's also the risk of them finding the wounds on their bodies and getting curious. Like I said, nothing ties those to me - unless Jess and Shirlee were to somehow meet up and tell each other about their similar wounds and connect them to me since I'm the only contact they share - but it'll still make them look for answers. I just have to hope that the numbing gel masks the sting long enough and that Shirlee doesn't find a way to clearly look at what's inside of her mantle lining. Same for Jess, but with the back of his head. At least the feathers cover it. Though if his wing really is broken or otherwise hurts enough to warrant a hospital visit, someone there might examine him thoroughly and find the seal for him...
But I guess I can ruminate on all this later. Right now, I have one last step to take in my plan.
I approach the toolbox sitting on the training room's floor. Well, training-slash-storage. One half of the room is dedicated to random crap never moved, while the other half actually sees use - its training mats and weights are what I use to keep up this toned body of mine. HE would settle for nothing less, but I have to admit that I do take pride and pleasure in looking so damn good.
Maybe that's what kept Shirlee coming back, too. It's strange that a cephalopod would have human notions of attractiveness, but maybe commercials and movies really are that powerful. For fools like her, at least.
I frown. It's that same culture that makes her think this new form of hers is abhorrent. While her suffering does not bother me, the misguided basis for it does.
But I can't convince her out of it. I need her to believe this lie. Otherwise she might spread the truth to the masses, and then her career wouldn't sink after all - it might reach new heights, in fact.
Oh well. It's no news to me that this world is upside down. Before I get the power to rectify it, I just have to play along.
I crouch and open the toolbox. The ultra ball lies within like before, but the spikes and key I've moved elsewhere for the time being. Careful not to accidentally put my hand over the ball mid-release, I slowly grab it and lift it out. It doesn’t seem like she’s coming out, though. She might still be knocked out - or asleep. Last night was rough on her, and evolution likely takes a good amount of energy out of you in general.
I de-minimize the ball, aim it at the mattress in front of me and click the button for release. Not
full release, though, as I’ll later have to smuggle her out of the house unnoticed. I can unregister her after that.
The ball opens and, through a stream of light, a malamar appears on the mattress. Limp. Guess I was right and she wasn’t staying in just to sulk or something. Unfortunately this means I’ll have to sit through more of it. But maybe I’ll get some trademark sadistic joy of mine from it, who knows?
I sigh. Let’s just get this over with.
I pick up the container of smelling salts I’d stashed in the toolbox as well and hover the open container near her beak. Soon enough, her eyelids start twitching. Okay, this is it. Remember the story.
I clear my throat and take a seat on the nearby stool. Shirlee’s motions start getting stronger. She knots her brow… or is it more like her chin? She’s using it like a brow, but she’s upside down, right? Or is this form actually the one that’s right side up? This really is a strange family of mon.
She grunts in discomfort, eyes still closed. She squirms just a bit.
“Shirlee?” I quietly ask.
“Mrmhh...” The tentacles atop her head coil. Her eyelids waver, then separate. “Wait… where...”
My wrist tingles, and the reason soon becomes clear - she’s trying to lift herself up, though with poor success. Her puzzled expression shows that she knows something’s off. She struggles for a while, maybe hoping it’ll ward off… until her squinted eyes widen in horror.
She splats right down onto the mattress and brings her clubs to her face. “Oh Gods, am I… did I...”
“Yeah.” I pause. I guess I should say it. “I'm sorry.”
She stays still, only staring at her clubs with eyes like vinyl discs. Her brain must be collapsing on itself.
“What did you do?” she snaps, catching me off guard.
“I -- whoa, I didn’t do anything,” I respond, scrambling to enter the story I’ve weaved. “I found you like this.”
“What do you mean, ‘found me’?”
Oh, this is a quick pace. I better keep up. “You were near passed out on a street. How much do you remember?”
Shirlee looks pissed, but she’s not trying to break my neck, so I guess she’s trusting me to some extent. “I… I remember you were an asshole,” she says. “And I left you…”
Left me? That’s what you say about boyfriends. Did she really think we were an item?
“B-but then you texted me and I saw your a-apology to your friend and I agreed to see you...” she continues. “And then I don’t remember.”
The seal did its job. I knew it would, but it’s still relieving to have it confirmed.
“Wh-what happened?” she asks, voice now weaker.
“Well...” I sigh, avoiding her looks. “We did meet up, and you did look into my mind… but I guess you didn’t like what you saw. So you left, still pissed at me, but you didn’t head back towards the hotel. I asked you where you were going, and you said you needed a drink. I didn’t follow, but I did stick around in the city to get more out of my trip, and an hour or two later I spotted someone with a coat just like yours struggling to hover outside a bar. I decided to check, and… it
was you, since you recognized me. Just…” I gesture at her and sigh. “Different. I guess that’d happened to you somehow.”
She looks at her clubs again and whimpers. “Oh Gods, this can’t be real...”
Then her eyes sharpen again. They glare at me. What?
“Where the hell am I now, then?” she demands.
“Uhh, my house.”
“How did you bring me here? Did you carry me, or -- you better have carried me --”
“Uhh, I...” Yeah, I didn’t expect her to find the idea that comfortable. I produce the ultra ball from my pocket, feigning shame. “Sorry.”
“You…!”
My wrist tingles again. Oh shit, is she gonna throw something? I need to calm her down.
I drop the ball and raise my palms. “I-I figured you didn’t wanna be seen like that by the public or some paparazzo! And… well, your new form is a lot bigger. I wouldn’t be able to carry that.”
“How the fuck would they have even known it was me?” she screams, prompting more suppressing gestures from me - this room isn’t soundproof like its hidden neighbor. “I'm a malamar! A big, ugly…” She sniffs, tears forming in her eyes. “I'm so fucking ugly.”
You’re not. You’re beautiful, mesmerizing, terrifying. A masterpiece sculpted by the currents of the deep sea. I would be thrilled to have a body as powerful and deadly as that.
But I just can't tell you that. I have to look away in second-hand shame. It feels slimy, even for me.
“Where’s my phone?” she mumbles.
“Oh, that's in your coat.” I fetch the coat I'd left on the floor and bring it to her. She digs out the phone, turns it on and soon begins to tap.
“That's a lot of missed calls…” she sighs. “Anders is gonna fuckin’ lose it when he hears about this…”
Nevertheless, she starts a call. After a few doots of no response, the other end picks up.
“Where the hell are you?” snaps a male voice.
“Pallet, but --”
She can't even finish the sentence before a tidal wave of expletives rolls her way. What a lovely person that manager is. Somehow, though, she manages to cleave through the continuous mass of insults and complaints with one quickly uttered pair of words.
“I evolved.”
The line goes dead silent. So does the whole room. The only motion seen are the tears inching down along Shirlee's cheek.
“You evolved?” the voice finally asks. It's eerily calm.
“Yeah.” She sniffles.
A pause.
“You said you were in Pallet, right?” the voice says.
Shirlee blinks. “Uh-huh.”
“Koratta Row 13 again?”
“Fourteen,” I correct.
“Fourteen,” Shirlee repeats. “But yeah.”
“Okay. Someone'll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay.”
“...Don't be seen.”
The call ended before Shirlee could reply.
Her tentacle goes limp, flopping down onto the bed along with the phone.
“I guess that's it,” she sighs. “My career's over.”
She stares blankly at the floor. But then, without warning, she looks at me.
“Listen, um...” she begins. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You were just trying to help."
Accepting the story? Good. "It's alright," I say. "You were just upset."
"And…" She sighs. "Sorry for doubting you, too. Regarding your past. It's clear that you've changed from whatever you were years ago… and I can understand you wanting to hide your past."
Oh. Well, that's nice. But it's a little too late. "Thanks," I reply anyway.
"So, with all that cleared up…" Her eyes light up, just a little, and she gives me a pleading gaze. "Could we… still be friends?"
Oof. Yeah. About that.
"Listen…" I start.
She already winces.
"I've been thinking, and I don't think it's gonna work out."
"What… do you mean?" she asks faintly, almost whispering.
Her wanting to patch things up will make this a little harder, but I'm sure I can still make this work. "I mean… when you read my mind last night, you rejected me. You couldn't accept my past. You saw that I'd changed, but you didn't forgive me. I don't think I can be friends with someone who can't see past my former self."
"But I…" Her eyes water again. "I-I want to forgive you now! I don't care about your past! I'm sure I-I made a mistake --"
“No,” I interrupt, “you showed me how you really feel. And even here, the first thing you did when you woke up was to yell at me. It’s clear that you don’t like me.”
She leans forward on her tentacles, as if she was begging on hands and knees. “No! I-I was just upset at being evolved! I'm sorry I snapped at you!”
Hmph. Of course she’s trying her hardest to win me back now. Crawling back to the only one that saw beyond her fame. Predictable.
I cross my arms, shaking my head. “Don't bother. I’ve made up my mind. It’s better for us both to go our separate ways.”
“No, please --”
This isn’t going anywhere. I need to put my foot down. “I’ve made up my mind,” I say, voice raised. “As soon as your ride gets here, I want you out.”
Her expression freezes. Wide eyes, beak ajar. If she had a lower lip, it would be quivering.
But then, a scowl. A face befitting of her body. Maybe too much. Too much like last night.
A buzz in the wrist, oh fuck!
She recoils a bit at my sudden motion to cover my throat. In confusion. She wasn't going for the neck? Then what?
As her glower regains its strength, my question is answered - a rectangle slides out of my pocket.
"Wh- hey!" I'm relieved she's not trying to kill me, but what the hell, that's mine!
She levitates the phone to her faster than I can catch it. Face still wrinkled in anger, she begins to tap.
"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, getting up, but a firm push knocks me back. Not that I let it keep me down for long, but dammit, she does it again!
"Payback," she says. "Of course your passcode is still the same," she adds in a mutter.
Payback? What does she mean by that? I'd love to stop it, whatever it is, but she's… making sure I stay in my seat with… these damn shoves!
Oh fuck, I really hope she isn't planning on sending my lord anything bad -- wait, no, I don't have His number on there. It never came up. Well, that's good… but I still want that phone back. I was starting to make progress with it. It might actually help me overcome my fear, open up whole new opportunities, give me more substance to my life --
"Ugh!" she groans. "Where the fuck is your Chatter? Do you not have one?" She taps and swipes some more, then --
"Knew it, isn't even downloaded. Are you some kind of fossil?"
I can't answer her question, whatever it was, because I'm frozen by the screen she's showing. White.
"What, what's with that look?" she asks, then sneers. "Oh, what, light theme hurting your poor little eyeballs?"
Icons on the screen. Zubat, gastly, drowzee, omastar, nidoking, pidgeot, lapras, more, more, they're all there. Everybody. They're all in there. Trapped. I have to get them out, get Him out, before something happens, but to get them out, I have to…
But I can't move. I can't decide how I move and when, that's what
they do. The ones screaming, laughing, demanding. The ones making me do all this, just for their entertainment. Or I don't know what they want. There's too many of them to listen, too much noise to think.
The hand raises, and it reaches for the mouse. No, no -- or yes? This is how I can get them out -- but maybe they'd be safer inside, inside no one can touch them, though even if someone did it wouldn't matter because this only happens to me, it only happens to me and no one else sees, they -- the demons, these monsters, they make it so no one sees, no one hears, no one remembers unless they want them to and they allow it to… to progress on my path, but then they're also the ones always holding me back, walking the same steps over and over, going to these… hell-machines and --
Doing this, doing exactly this. The mouse has hit my hand, my trembling hand. The cursor shakes, approaches the omastar, enters His area -- oh Gods, no, or yes, I need Him out but what if I...
Click.
Oh Gods. There it is, low on the menu that's popped up.
Release. It looks so innocent, that word, but it's a liar. It's death. It means death.
But there's also
Withdraw, higher up. Withdraw means freedom. Or not directly, but it's a necessary part. Withdraw and log off. Take the balls and walk away. That's how you can save them. That's how no one dies, and that's how you can progress.
The cursor's moving down, towards Withdraw. Soon… there! It's on Withdraw! Click! Click now! Please…
They aren't clicking.
They're dragging the cursor down. No. Not there. Not to Release. Not Him, please, not Him, anyone else, don't go closer, no, no!
This was a mistake. I shouldn't try to get Him out. I should let Him stay in. We should let them all stay in, please! We can find other teammates! Please, listen to me! Just let me leave! I-I don't want Him to --
Click.
“No!” I scream. The word burns my throat, but it’s nothing compared to the pit in my stomach, the endless void that just keeps getting deeper with every moment of consciousness, of understanding what’s happening. The surreality being reality. Him being, Him being…
No, I can’t, I can’t accept it, I have to do something! I can scream, so I can do something, I still have some control, if I just try… and I have to try, I’ll try to break the fucking thing, it can’t kill if it’s broken!
Under every restraint, every ton weighing down on my body from all directions to keep it in place, the rage and the will and the despair boils over and the miracle happens -- the hand flies forth for the monitor, fist clenched -- and smashes onto the glass.
The glass gives way. The monitor flies back.
What? That doesn’t make sense. It would be too heavy. It should have broken, or it should have broken my hand…
It smacks into the wall -
crack - and falls to the floor with a shattered screen. Flat, small, wrong shape. Wrong things on the screen…
What’s going on?
Shirlee’s staring at me. Since when is Shirlee here? Where is… here? Grays, browns, blue mattresses…
...right, this is…
“What the fuck was that?” yells Shirlee. “Are you, like, five? Can’t solve your problems with words, you just punch right at them?”
She… caused that. She just caused that nightmare. That plunge into the worst time of my life…
“You’re gonna pay me back for that phone, by the way!” she continues. “If you’re just gonna fucking dump me like this, I want back the money I spent on you!”
I want her out. Now.
“Get out,” I rasp.
“Cough up the money first!” she screeches. “I’m not leaving without it!”
I nearly snap back, but realize there’s a better way. A much better, much faster way.
I swipe the ultra ball off the floor and click it.
Shirlee’s eyes widen. “You motherf-”
The light gets to her before she can finish. With a flash, she’s back inside.
I grab her coat and shove the ball within, shortly joined by her phone off the mattress. The two items wrapped in the thick garment, I bolt out of the room, up the stairs, into the first floor, through that, and out the front door.
Leaping down the steps, I shove the coat to the ground. The ball rolls out, and soon the malamar emerges again.
She reorients herself, then turns to me with a glare. “How fucking dare y-”
“Leave,” I growl, drilling my eyes into hers.
She pauses, but soon recovers. “I’m not leaving without --”
“Leave, or I’ll
fucking kill you.”
She flinches.
It shouldn’t mean anything to a beast like her, a threat from a human. A human with no weapons, no less.
But she’s seen what’s inside. The hatred pouring out of my eye sockets. The intent to hurt. To kill.
Not in self defense, not from a primal gut reaction, but out of conscious, crystal clear malice.
She doesn't dare to move. She simply floats in place, bringing that steady hum to my fading wounds, until she says just three quiet words.
"You never changed."
I don't feel the need to respond. She's gone now, and that's all that matters.
Sparing her no more space in my vision, I turn around and walk back inside.
As the door closes behind me, I can let myself breathe. It's finally over. I never have to see her again.
But there's still that gaping hollow where my guts should be. Something feels wrong. Dangerous. Unstable. The world isn't how it should be…
Eager for some change, I walk deeper into the house. The snow stuck to my socks is starting to melt, that's a little annoying…
"Red?"
I look to my right. Fonz stares back over the couch.
"What was that all about?" he asks.
I blink to gather my thoughts. I guess I still have some lies to weave.
But my mind's drawing a blank… it doesn't seem to want to think while that strange dread is still there…
Maybe I need to see Him. He always made me feel better, before this whole Shirlee thing, at least… but that should be over now. I shouldn't care anymore, knowing for a fact that His distraction will soon disappear. I just need to see Him, and it'll all be okay…
I say nothing while I approach the couch. Fonz looks a little offended, but he'll get his answer as soon as I feel better. Just a few more steps, and I'll see Him again - I know He's there, He's always hanging out there.
One more step, and I'll see His wonderful form. His shell, His smooth sandy-brown shell. I love the touch of it. His shiny arms, vivid blue, lined with little suckers He loves to stick to me with. And I love to be stuck to. It's like little kisses.
I should tell Him. I should tell Him how much I care. How much joy I get just from seeing Him. How ecstatic I feel when I get to hold Him. Maybe even how incredible it is I can even feel that way, given how much hate I have for the rest of the world, how readily I hurt and kill the others… no, He shouldn't know that. He's too naive. He'd think that's bad, that I'm bad...
But nevermind that. My adoration is still true. Maybe I’ll tell Him about that right now as I see Him.
I take the final step.
There He sits. But He’s holding…
No!
I plunge my hand for the screen, the white screen, the blinding window to the virtual hell. I feel its surface meet my palm, and I clutch it with fingers like talons, tear it from His hold, fling it as hard as I can!
It flops down, screen up, still glowing, the danger isn’t gone. I need to protect Him.
“Wh-hey, what --” He tries, but I grab Him by His shell - His lovely shell - and lift Him to my arms, clutching Him tight. Where do I take Him? Where will He be safe? Dammit, stop squirming, please, this is for Your own safety--
“Red, what’s going on?”
Fonz has gotten up. Confused. Why is he confused? Doesn’t he know what that thing can do? Why did he let Him near it in the first place? Why did
I let Him use it? How could I have forgotten? What kind of guardian am I…?
No, I can’t dwell on that now! I have to get Him somewhere safe! But where? Downstairs? No, the other phone's in there! Upstairs? No, Jess's computer is there, that's even worse! Outside? No, it's too cold out there for Him, and any passerby is gonna have another screen on them! Oh Gods, what does that leave?
"Lemme go!" groans my lord, tentacles flailing about or trying to pry off my arms in vain, only tugging on my sleeves.
Now Fonz is approaching, claws held out. He wants to take Him away from me. From safety.
"No!" I growl and step back.
"What are you doing?" the nidoking asks, tense.
“I’m keeping Him safe!”
“From wh-” he starts, but cuts himself off as he looks over his shoulder, staring at the phone in realization. Is he finally getting it?
He turns back to me with… how do I describe those eyes? Disappointed? He should be disappointed, yeah, in himself. But there’s also fear. Fear of what might have happened if he didn’t get this refresher, right?
“Phones can’t hurt Him,” he says. No, I had it all wrong. He’s still deluded!
“What are you two talking about?” yells my lord. What are we… doesn’t
He know?
Does He really not remember?
I turn around, shielding Him from Fonz’s grabby claws, and look into His eyes. He winces and draws halfway into His shell. What… why? I’m Your guardian, why would You… no, He’s just startled, confused. He’ll understand soon.
“Don’t You remember?” I ask, voice softer and quieter. “Don’t You remember how dangerous those things are?”
“Red --” tries Fonz behind me, but I step further away, ignoring him.
“What things?” my lord asks. He’s quiet too.
“Screens… computers, phones, they’re just smaller computers… they’re not safe, my lord, don’t You remember what they do?”
No recognition in those eyes. Just fear. He doesn’t… how could He not…
Suppressed, maybe it’s suppressed, or He’s denying it. But He has to acknowledge it. It might hurt, but He has to stay safe. This is for His own good…
“They trap You in, and they kill You! Th-they force You in Your ball and lock You in and i-if Release is pressed, it breaks in some way and You, Y-You --”
“Red!”
Thick claws grab my shoulder and force me to meet Fonz’s eyes. I try to turn back, but now he’s got both shoulders, and his grip is way too tight. No!
“You gotta stop this,” he says, leaning in. His horn almost touches my forehead, even as I’m hunching myself over my lord.
“No, I won’t let you take Him! He won’t be safe!”
“It’s been six years! He’s been safe ever since! There’s no danger anymore!”
“No, it's -- we've just been careless! It could’ve happened again at any time --”
“It couldn’t have! And it still can’t! Especially not with a regular phone, where would the ball even go?”
I… I don’t know! But it’d do it somehow!
“And what ball, even? He hasn’t had a ball in years! We unregistered it, remember? We sold it away, just like all the other ones!”
We did, but...
“And even if it was a center PC, the only thing it could happen with, it was only the Voices! They made it happen! And they’ve been gone for years!”
The Voices… the distortions...
Fonz exhales heavily. "Please. Snap out of it. You're scaring Him."
Him…
I look down at Him.
He’s fully retracted into His shell, tentacles shielding His face. They’re shifting nervously, and I think even… trembling.
It hurts, seeing Him like that. I want to hurt whoever’s responsible, but that person is me.
Why did I do that? Why did I yell at Him? For His safety? From… a phone, just a phone? What could it possibly do?
Fonz is right… it’s just a phone. Just a glowy little rectangle. It can’t do anything.
There was no reason for me to yell at Him. Scare Him, hurt Him. I just… hurt Him.
The coils of that realization wrap around my organs and constrict like a serpent. It makes it hard to speak, but I have to say this, I have to try and save at least some face…
“I… I’m sorry...”
I feel Fonz’s grip loosen. But he’s not letting go. Right, I… I should just…
I pry Him out of my own embrace and offer Him to Fonz, hands shaking. Eyes now understanding, he cautiously takes Him and steps back.
The emptiness in my palms is freezing yet burning. But I can’t hold Him anymore. I don’t want to hurt Him anymore…
I lower my hands and tuck them into my armpits. I should just get out of here.
The basement, that's where I should go. Away from everyone. Maybe hide in my hidden room until I… get the energy to emerge again.
I take some steps back, then turn around properly to circle the kitchen table... I feel like the long way is warranted. I reach the door to the staircase - still open from my previous storming out - and stop.
I look at Fonz. He looks back with a heavy gaze. The shell in his claws still has no blue coming out.
That’s my fault. That’s my fault.
As if it was a reflex, the words come out again.
“I’m sorry...”
But I know I could say it a thousand times and it wouldn’t make it any better. That’s why it’s better for me to just leave.
I step down a stair and close the door behind me. My legs don’t want to go further, but I force them to, and eventually I reach the bottom floor. I keep going, approaching the bookcase, but as I pass the training room, I stop.
The phone that Shirlee gave me is still lying down next to the wall, screen cracked. It’s gone dark since.
Before I can stop myself, I walk to it and crouch. But nothing happens anyway. Because it’s just a phone. It can’t do anything.
And yet, it just made me ruin everything I’ve spent the last few weeks on. Hell, months. I raised Him. Well, Fonz did a lot too, but I fed Him, played with Him, took care of His hygiene… I wanted to, sure, but I did that with the belief I’d have Him for the rest of my life. Mortal life, anyway. And His life.
I’d love to conquer this fear just out of spite. Get rid of this ball and chain on my leg. But if this is what’s gonna happen, if it’s gonna push Him further away, and hurt like a bitch in the process…
I’m never bothering with this shit again. It just wasn’t meant to be.
I pick up the phone and throw it against another wall. It clacks and falls. I let it be for now and lie down on the mattress.
What an idiot I’ve been. Stupid, impatient. Couldn't just let this Shirlee thing run its course, no, had to try and meddle with it. And look where that got me - worse off than it ever was.
Maybe this can be repaired. Maybe He can still accept me in His life. But He'll never trust me the way He used to. And it's sure as hell gonna be a while before He even lets me touch Him again.
My face is burning. Water prickles at the edges of my eyes. I sigh. I’m so tired… I just want to rest.
I try to close my eyes, but the moment the eyelids meet, I see Him again. Quivering in my arms. It shocks me fully awake. If that’s gonna keep happening, I definitely won’t sleep well tonight. Or for a long time.
I guess I should just accept it.
I was simply never meant to have love.
---
