The air I breathe in is strangely heavy, like water. But I’m not drowning.
It’s dark blue all around, like water. But I’m not drowning.
I float in place, the air supporting my weight, like water. But I’m not drowning.
I guess I must have gills.
I have gills, and I can’t feel my limbs. Am I a fish?
More like an Omanyte considering the meta behind this story.
I curve my spine - it’s become much longer - to see my body beneath me. A scaly tail, flattened to function as a paddle, and two amber gems embedded in its flesh.
I’m much better than a fish. I’m a dragonair. A deepsea dragonair.
Huh, I wasn’t expecting that one. Though are the ‘
amber’ gems deliberate? Since I can’t say I can think of any Dragonair sprites canonically that
have yel-
Right, that’s a thing. It might have also been worth mentioning the pink scales as well somewhere in that description, unless “blue Dragonair with yellow orbs” is just a HH-exclusive subspecies.
I try to fold what used to be my ears, and they’re indeed now fins. I lick my teeth. Sharp, conical. I glance around the dark blue around me and realize that human eyes would never see anything but black.
So this is what it’s like. Color me jealous! I can feel the raw power in this body, the form and musculature that allows a lightning-fast lunge at unsuspecting prey, the aura in my jewels… ugh, phrasing. Either way, this is a killing machine. Perhaps the brain isn’t as sophisticated, but what need for complex thought is there when my purpose is clear and unobstructed? Speaking of…
I’m surprised that Red is feeling this cheery about being hot pink at the moment, since you’d think that would clash with his whole “Houndoom is my spirit animal” shtick that he’s had in past chapters.
Red: “Hey,
shut up. Nobody said that killing machines weren’t allowed to be fabulous.”
I sniff the air. Water. There’s a scent that’s very familiar on the right, very appetizing. Invited to hunt by the trail of blood, I follow it, slithering through the abyss - oh, how wonderful the water feels, flowing past my scales. This is nature celebrating its design.
The scent grows stronger - the wounded prey is nearby. In just moments, I see it. A magikarp. A fateful gash in its tail. It has no idea I’m here. Better strike before it does.
I whip my tail against the waters, springing forth. I open my mouth and bite down hard the moment I feel scales against my tongue.
I take it that we’re not following the anime portrayal of Magikarp and its scales, since that sounds
painful if so. ^^;
An explosion of blood. Overwhelming to my sense of taste and smell. The magikarp flails in vain - my teeth have hooked deep into its flesh. I feel its muscles repeatedly flex and relax. The panic of a dying animal. Finally, it stops moving.
Some remaining streak of human thought ponders how I’ll fillet this without hands and cook it underwater, but my instincts soon override it, prompting me to swallow and only chew if I choke. I wince, expecting the scales and fins to rasp my throat bleeding, but all I feel are harmless scratches. A dragonair’s throat must be made of stronger stuff than a human’s.
Can’t tell if this is a dream sequence, or if Red’s having some sort of out of body experience at the moment. Though how often does he
have these sorts of moments anyways? .-.
With that first meal, as counterintuitive as it seems, awakens more hunger. This body is much larger than a human’s, after all, and all these muscles need plenty of energy. One small fry won’t fill my belly. I need the entire shoal.
Careful there, Red. Serpents in general slow down considerably after big meals since they’re quite literally weighted down.
Guided by my nose, I find more prey to lunge at and devour. A remoraid, a goldeen, another magikarp. A qwilfish I avoided, for obvious reasons. But I’m still hungry - and honestly, I could use something other than fish now. Maybe a shellder. Though will I be able to break the shell? Maybe I’d be better off finding a staryu.
That sounds like a terrible idea if Staryu are like actual starfish since much of their mass is the equivalent of a skeleton.
I smell my surroundings once again, this time ignoring the scents of fish. There’s a faint aroma unlike any of the ones before. That’s it, that’s what I want. I chase the odd but alluring fragrance through the waters, scattering a few schools of little fish in my path.
Oh, if HE could see me now, HE would be so proud. A beautiful, deadly predator hunting to sate his hunger, an image so ancient yet always so elegant. I’m doing my part in the ecosystem, culling the weak to keep the species healthy. Removing the inadequate and fueling myself in the process. Destroying life to perpetuate mine.
Red, just saying, you sound like you’re
heavily tempting fate into this ending in a bad trip in like 30 seconds.
The scent grows stronger. My target is close. What’s it going to be? A shining staryu? A diving psyduck? A chubby seel cub separated from its mother? Whatever it is, my teeth will tear it apart. With a smell like this, it must taste amazing. I can’t wait…
Well,
that’s totally not a concerning thought process at all there. .-.
Oh, it’s coming from the bottom. From that rock, the little cave within it. Soon I’ll feel that creature’s soft flesh between my jaws, its useless struggles for survival. I slither closer and closer, all the way to the entrance. I’m ready to strike. I plunge my head in, teeth bared. What will I be eating?
Eyes wide as plates stare back. Eyes I know, framed by blue arms and a spiral shell.
Ohai, Helix.
What’s He doing here? It’s not safe out here. If any predator found Him, He’d stand no chance.
A predator like… me.
So I should...
I should. I have no reason not to. I should –
Yes. Go right ahead, Red. Eat.
Red: “
I’m sorry, but I
did hear that correctly, right-?”
Helix:
[ ] I… I’m gonna. Just in a second, I’m gonna, I’m just… just getting ready.
Haven’t you been ready your whole life?
I, well, I mean...
Are you saying that there’s something stopping you? That’s not how the Bringer, the Bringer, the Bringer, the Bringer. The Bringer cannot --
Ah yes, time for that bad trip right about now. Though I feel that it might’ve been worth setting the scene a bit more in terms of showing the whole “wait, he’s
really here, for the taking, and he
wants me to?” sinking in for him.
Something yanks me back. It’s loud, so loud. Around, around, dizzy, there’s a deep, deep darkness in the middle. A whirlpool? The current grabs me and drags me into the abyss --
I gasp. Light. Light blue. Sky. Grass, chairs, people, wind, hands, legs. I’m a human. What?
Oh, I woke up. That was a dream. Okay. So... where am I?
In bed? Or…?
I’m sitting among a crowd, it seems - a crowd of people in black suits seated on an array of lawn chairs. Some guy is standing at a wooden podium before us, speaking. He’s in black as well. Looks old, sad. Everyone looks sad, actually. What is this, a funeral?
...Actually, yeah. I think it is a funeral.
… He’s at Michi’s funeral right now, isn’t he?
But no one I know has died. I don’t recognize these people…
Oh, don’t tell me... Mom dragged me here, didn’t she? Yeah, some distant relative I’d never even met kicked the bucket and still she made me come.
So where is she, then? The seat next to me is empty. Did she ditch me? Ugh, that bitch. Well, guess what? I’m eighteen. I’m a grown man and I get to decide where I go and what I do, and what I’m gonna do now is get the hell outta here.
Red: “Seriously, since when did I ever go to funerals on my own? How on earth did I even get roped into this?” >_>;
Stealthily, I get up, lucky to have the second seat in the row. I let the crowd keep their attention on the current speaker while I scan my surroundings for an exit. This is a rather nice-looking graveyard, fancier than the one I live near, with less moss on the tombstones and walkways and robust deciduous trees in place of common evergreens…
Wait. Tombstones? Western tombstones, placed so far apart that there must be entire bodies buried underneath? I guess this must be a Western-style graveyard. I didn’t know I had Western relatives…
Well, anyway… it looks like the metal fencing around the around the area is rather high and equipped with a spiked tips, making it between extremely difficult and impossible to climb over. I don’t want to accidentally neuter myself, so I keep looking for a gate, but just can’t seem to find one…
You have a couple of superfluous words here at the moment.
“And now, a speech from one of her close friends, Ichiro Akai.”
...I’m sorry, what did the old guy just say?
I turn around. Everyone’s eyes are on me. He really did just say my name.
Ah yes, Red really
is having one hell of a bad trip at the moment.
Now… normally, I wouldn’t have any issue with being rude to a bunch of whoevers, but something about these people’s faces is telling me that bailing right in front of them is going to lead to consequences. Of the angry mob kind. And with no easy escape in sight, that would not be pleasant to deal with.
“Mr Akai?” asks the old man.
I guess I should just give the speech. It can’t be that hard if I just stay vague and overwhelmingly positive. That should satisfy the crowd enough.
I nod to the man, and we exchange positions. I can see more people’s faces now. A lot of pale folk. This really is a Western funeral. Or… wait.
That young Tohjoan guy in the front row, with the long face and short black hair, isn’t that… oh Gods.
This isn’t any relative’s funeral. This is Joanna’s funeral.
Wait, what the hell are you even
doing at her funeral, Red? .-.
Okay. Shit, uhh. How do you start a speech? I need to make it good, or at least believable. If Joanna really is the deceased and all of her family is here, I can’t have even a single one get the idea that I wasn’t on terms that great with her, as that would make me a suspect in the case of her disappearance. Although it’s not like I can do that now, can I, having told her brother over there that I didn’t know her at all. Fuck! Where did they even get the idea we were close? Did someone spot me stalking? No, enough thinking! I need to start the speech!
“So, uhh...” Not like that, dumbass! You’re not holding a presentation in front of your classmates, you’re calming a herd of angry tauros pawing at the ground!
I sniffle a bit. “I-I’m sorry, I’m just still so devastated...” I hang my head. “But we all are, aren’t we? She was such a sweet woman, kind to all, and so beautiful, too...”
I hear a whisper from the crowd. “Why’s he wearing white?”
Ah yes,
that’s definitely something that you’ll only see in Eastern funerals IRL. Cute little culture clash moment there.
What? I’m not… I am?
Yes, this suit is just like those of all the other men, except for the color. Pure white. White coat, white shirt, white tie. Even the shoes are white. Shit. Do you think I could pretend to be colorblind? No, that’s not how that works. Oh Gods. Well, alright, this is a thing. But I can’t let it distract me. I need to make up for this with my speech.
Red: “Um… I was expecting this funeral to be conducted per local norms? Since in Kanto, traditionally
white is a color of mourning, and-”
Minister: “Mr. Akai, kindly continue on with your speech.”
“She was a bright young woman, independent, supportive of her friends and family…” I try to remember some real life example that I’d witnessed while stalking her, but the only thing I can think of at the moment is her lying on the floor eating cheese snacks while watching some weird, weird anime on her TV. Uhh.
“She was a girl who knew how to have a good time.”
Red: “... That came out wrong, didn’t it?”
Whispers. Agitated ones. A commotion! Wh-what did I do wrong? “Oh Gods, I didn’t mean that she slept around or --”
One word keeps popping up. ‘Pocket’.
I look down, and the left pocket of my pants - it’s stained red. Blood red.
Yup, this is another dream sequence, I can already tell.
The crowd stares at me with wide eyes, expecting an explanation, but I’m just as lost as them. I haven’t hurt myself. I haven’t put anything in there. I can only reach my fingers in and pull out…
A lock of hair. Covered in sticky, slimy blood, but its original color can still somewhat be seen.
Pink. Michi’s hair.
Red: “What the hell, why is this even here?! I
strangled her!”
Audience:
Red: “Um… did I say ‘strangled’? What I meant to say was-”
But why would it bleed? No, why would it be there in any case? Why would I bring evidence of a murder to a funeral? No, why would I be at the funeral of the woman I killed in the first place?
“Get him.”
Red:
Who said that? It made everyone stand up. And now they’re approaching. Oh Gods, I gotta get out of here. No, doesn’t running incriminate me further? They still don’t have anything to actually prove I killed Joanna. Do they? They shouldn’t, but they walk like they do and the wild, furious gleam in their eyes sure says they want blood for blood! I need to run! I turn around and --
Smack right into a surface of some kind. Dark, wooden, hollow. That wasn’t there before. It’s a little taller than me -- it’s a coffin, standing upright. I try to move past it, but something’s got me by the arm. Something with a chilling touch. I struggle, but it holds me in place. Look back. It’s a shadow, a hand. A ghost mon’s hand. Why is it this strong? It’s basically cutting off my circulation!
Oh,
hello Cofagrigus. I take it that’s a sign that Joanna’s a bit less dead than expected.
“Let… let go,” I growl, but it falls on deaf ears. If it has ears.
More touches - warm ones, human ones. They grab me. The mob has caught up. A sea of black suits.
“Th-this isn’t legal!” I shout as a last, desperate attempt to sway their minds. Trouble from the cops - it’s what keeps me from killing blindly. But not for these people, it seems. They’re animals. Animals trampling me.
Oh, the
irony of a serial killer attempting to hide behind the law for trying to shield themselves from consequences.
They tighten their hold and pull me back. For what? A pummeling? A public execution?
The coffin before me creaks, its cover slowly opening. The crowd watches, still. What’s in there? It can’t be Joanna’s body. There’s nothing left of that. And if there was, they certainly wouldn’t show it.
Crimson velvet lines the coffin’s interior. How royal. But that’s not what we’re looking for. Something glimmers on the inside of the cover. Metal. Sharp. And then the cover opens fully and I see it clear as day.
Needles. Thousands of thin, long needles sticking out.
Ah yes,
that’ll bring out the inner trypanophobe in just about anybody.
No. No, they can’t. I scream that at them, but the crowd pushes me forward, right towards the velvet lining. I wriggle, flail, resist as strongly as this body can allow, but they’ve got hold of so many places that any movement left possible is absolutely pathetic.
I’m shoved. Velvet on my face, palms. Yet they’ve let go. Can I still run? I turn around to leap out, but the ghostly hand awaits me, slamming its freezing palm right at my heart and pushing me back. Wrists, ankles - frozen too, held to the back of the coffin. The crowd, all of them smile. In the front, Joanna’s brother. He grabs the edge of the cover. No. No, don’t --
He slams the lid onto me.
Joanna’s Brother:
Every needle, each and every one, punctures my skin, eyes, teeth, rips through the flesh and crushes the bone as instinct tears one final, ear-splitting scream from my bleeding lungs.
You have some pluralization errors here, since the verb talks about what each individual needle does as to opposed to what ‘the needles’ in plural do.
Pain. Purest pain I’ve ever felt. Every nerve blaring at the brain of the hell brought upon the body, unobstructed by any other signals as I go blind and deaf.
No pain.
No pain now. Only black, empty, silent, cold, wet. Any darkness from before - nothing compared to this.
Red: “Did. Did I just
die?”
Am I… dead? Is this the afterlife?
Will it be like this forever?
Thump, thump, thump, thump --
No, this isn’t nothingness, something’s coming!
Golden light rips a hole in the darkness -- it’s coming for me!
“Red?”
Time for him to shoot up in his bed for real.
Red…? Human… speech? There’s a human figure in that light…
And where I am, it’s not empty. Something’s beneath me. Soft. It warms my hands. And my heart beats. If I have a heartbeat, I live. I have my body. So where am I?
Oh. [ ]
I hide my left arm behind me. Abe can’t see the bandage.
I think that it probably makes sense to explicitly say something along the lines of “I’m at home / I’m in bed” as Red snaps back to reality here.
“Are you okay?” Abe asks, shaggy hair hanging in front of his eyes. The absence of his glasses, as always, makes his eyes seem weirdly small.
I take a moment to catch my breath. My lungs are intact and well. Thank the Gods.
“It’s okay,” I reply. “Just had a bad dream.”
[ ]
“...You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright...” The boy in the frame hesitantly backs away and closes the door. “Good night,” he still says from outside before leaving for his own room with quiet steps.
I think it might be worth showing off either Abe or Red’s reaction, or both in this sequence. Even if it’s something as simple as Red
not being able to make out Abe’s reaction clearly but noticing that he’s pausing or something like that.
I pull my left arm back from hiding and sigh. As the exhaled air hits my bare chest, I realize how wet I am from my own cold sweat. My heart still beats at record pace. Otherwise, though, I seem to be fine.
Maybe washing my face and a quick walk around will calm me down, convince my brain the danger is gone. I pry myself out of my bed. Ugh, my underwear’s glued to my skin. Maybe I should just sleep in the nude for the rest of the night.
Just how much were you
sweating earlier, Red? .-.
I make my way to the bathroom and turn on the lights. The brightness smacks me in the face, stripping away most of my drowsiness. My steps are sticky on the tiles beneath my feet, but soon I reach the warmer, softer carpet in front of the sink. I turn on the tap and splash some lukewarm water to my face, neck and chest. Feels good. Well, pretty average, but after that dream, I’m just glad not to be in pain anymore. You know, I never did believe those people that say you couldn’t feel pain in your dreams. I guess they just get off easy and can’t comprehend other people going through something worse. Assholes.
Ah yes, priorities™.
I take off my underwear and toss it into the laundry basket. After cleaning away the worst of the sweat, I close the tap and grab a towel, the pecha-colored one. I dry myself off - oh, it’s warm, fuzzy, dry… sticky… red?
That’s... blood. That’s blood on the towel. Where did it…
I glance at the mirror above the sink to see my body, but my body, it’s -- red too. Bloody. Full of holes. So many small, deep, black holes. Puncture wounds. No skin is left. Only torn muscle, shattered teeth, deflated eyes, dripping vitreous humour, blood, that’s really bad, that’s really fucking bad, I’m gonna go blind, what will I do without my sight, I’ll be helpless, useless -- but wait a second now, wait a second, how am I seeing all this if my eyes are…
It’s called that it’s not really happening, Red.
...Oh, oh, I’m still dreaming. That’s obvious. The jagged mess of teeth of the reflection twists into a smile. This isn’t real. I must’ve fallen asleep again after Abe left. Haha. It’s just… it’s just my mind again.
I look down at my chest, the sight matching the man in the mirror. Gods, I’m so fucked up right now. I hope that goes away soon, I don’t want to have to clean this blood.
How often has Red
had dreams like this given that his reaction is basically “oh, this again”? .-.
I reach my mangled hand into my chest cavity underneath my ribs, grabbing the thing that beats and pulling it out with little resistance. I hold out a disembodied heart that still pulsates, but now without blood. The torn edges of the thick blood vessels that leave it - aorta, superior vena cava, pulmonary artery, so on - are a sad sight. Vessels as diligent as these deserve clean cuts.
Well, whatever. Since it’s certainly not going to stick to my insides anymore, I leave it in the sink. I head back to my own room and climb back in my bed, hoping to sleep off the dream.
Small missing word in the first paragraph of this block here.
I’m sorry, what?
I already knew before that the dream was bizarre, but now it's really dawning on me. A coffin coming to life and killing me… I guess my mind took some inspiration from that evolved form of yamask, cof… cofagrigus, I think. Hmh. And then the dream progressed to a fake wakeup...
Hold on. I don’t have my underwear on. But I took them off inside the dream, not outside it. Did they slide off somehow?
Red: “... How on earth does that even
happen anyways?”
After a brief search of my bed, it seems they didn’t. So maybe some of the dream was real and I was sleepwalking? Eh, must have been something like that. Can’t have all been real, given I’m still alive and not bloody all over.
Are you sure those were all
dreams and you weren’t hallucinating some of it?
At least there was that other dream before the funeral, the one where I was a dragonair. It felt so good to get to kill things again. Makes me hungry for some fish, actually. But then it had to go and transition to the funeral… how did that happen again? I was tracking something new and then I found…
Fuck. No. It was… dammit. So much for fond memories of that dream.
I take it that killing Helix is some sort of high blasphemy or something in Helixian religion from the way that Red is reacting to “oh yeah, Helix commanded me to eat him”.
But it's alright - it was precisely a dream and nothing else. In real life, I would've…
In real life I wouldn't end up in such a situation to begin with. HE wouldn't have me kill the omanyte, that's directly against HIS interests. My job is to protect the omanyte as it's a valuable asset. Not killing it in my dream was only wise! It needs to stay alive…
Red: “Ugh. I suppose that’s a sign that I should go and see that therapist again.” >_>;
Oh, screw thinking about this. It's pointless. I should get my day started instead. It's a big day, too. First day of exposure therapy. I can get a fresh look at my problems and begin to systematically work them out. Yes, this is the day I really turn my course for the better. It's gonna be tough, but rewarding. When I get home at the end of the day, I'll feel like my lounging around is really earned. That things are how they should be.
Red, don’t make me post that gif of Bender again. Since you and I both know that this isn’t going to go anywhere fast.
That synthetic excitement injected into my veins, I march off to my morning chores. They transpire the same way as usual with perhaps a little more care put into washing my hair - but as I approach my cupboard, I realize I must diverge from the known path.
‘Clothes make the man’ is what many people say, and to an extent even the Helixians agreed. It’s clear from the visions HE gave me that Kohath dressed like the king he was, which was admittedly more modest back in the Bronze Age, but still involved more impressive clothing than the everyman.
So we’re going to see Red in a suit this chapter, or…?
I recall being described as ‘looking like a rapist’ back in my high school days in some overheard girl talk, so it would probably be smart to dress a little nicer if I am to go out and socialize without getting the cops called on me. But that brings up a problem…
I dig through my wardrobe and my suspicion is confirmed. All the fancier clothes I can find are too small for me. Makes sense as my mother stopped forcing me to shop for clothes with her years ago, and the ones I’ve bought since have all prioritized comfort. So will I actually have to go shopping for clothes today? Or maybe…
Red: “... Maybe I could buy them online? They sell clothes online nowadays, right?” ^^;
I’m surprised that I’ve never gone through my mother’s drawers before looking for clothes that could have belonged to my father, but I suppose there’s no time like the present. If he had a frame like mine, they might just fit.
I make my way downstairs and head for the main bedroom. Crossing the floor to the cupboards, I keep an eye out for any quills Fonz may have shed. I restrain myself from looking at the omanyte’s aquarium. I’m too busy for those thoughts.
That sounds like a prime reason to maintain a set of indoor slippers for going around the house, just saying, Red.
Finding men’s clothes turns out to be easy - not because there’s many of them, but because there aren’t that many clothes in the first place. I suppose it makes sense for my mother to have taken most of the clothes she uses to where she actually lives. How she’s managed to fit them all in that apartment is beyond me.
Oh, so Red’s parents no longer live in Pallet Town, huh? Since I distinctly remember the games being set in a detached house there.
Either way, this confirms that she lived together with my father for some amount of time, which in turn means she knows his identity and how he exited the picture but just refuses to tell me. The presence of these clothes would primarily suggest his death, but it’s also possible for the breakup to have been so stormy that he decided going back for his clothes wasn’t worth it. But then she would have also had a reason to keep them. Maybe she wanted to sell them and never got around to it or guessed correctly that I would grow into them.
Oh, so Red just straight-up
doesn’t know who his father is. I wonder how on earth he managed that in an age when there’s casual internet access at minimum in public libraries.
Let’s not kid ourselves, though. He’s probably dead, a box of ashes and bones in the ground. Which is a shame - I would’ve liked to know which of my traits I inherited from him. There’s a possibility he was a predator, too, a very clever one at that to be able to manipulate my mother into a relationship and having a child with him. I haven’t felt that need to spread my genes myself, but I hear it’s very common, and it only makes sense when thinking from a biological standpoint.
inb4 he fell off the face of the planet because of something to do with Helix, since clearly
something happened such that finding any trace of him is apparently very hard for Red to manage.
But no matter how great he could have been, he’s the reason I’m here. That alone makes me want to deck the fucker.
Ah yes, clearly Red has a complicated™ relationship with life considering how he resents his father for granting him life.
I shake those thoughts and try on one button-up shirt. To my surprise, it fits like a glove. Guess my old man worked out, too. Bet my mom liked that.
Wait, is this the same shirt as in that one art of HH!Red in more formal clothes, or am I tripping?
I move to the bathroom and check myself out in the mirror. Damn, looking good -- well, the hair’s still a mess. I rinse my fingers and swipe back my hair. My widow’s peak is exposed. More like widowmaker’s peak… is what I would say, had I ever killed married men.
Yeah, don’t hold your breath on that one, Red. Since I
saw what you said internally about how your high school classmates used to talk about the way you looked.
I grab a hairbrush from the mirror cabinet. It’s covered in loose brown hair - practically every tooth has a strand wrapped around it. Does Abe use this on his hair or a tangela? Ugh. I find a comb instead and run it through my hair until I run out of tangles. Finally, I comb my bangs to the sides and close the cabinet to see my reflection again.
Wait, Tangela have
hair in this setting? ^^;
Wow. Now that’s a metamorphosis. The man in the mirror has transformed from an under-bridge raticate to a street-strutting, show-stopping ninetales. No one would guess that this stand-up citizen killed women, took their tongues and stored them in jars in his basement.
I mean, just saying, you’re not exactly an impartial judge there, Red.
Of course, there’s something still missing - the thing that everyone says is the most important. It’s never been that natural to me, but if I am to become a social butterfree, it’s something I have to master.
I give the mirror my most amiable, benevolent, tame smile.
There it is. Peak deception.
inb4 it still looks like a transparent slasher smile
“Morning, Abe.”
In the split second after he had turned to me, I saw fear in his eyes - the very primal fear we feel after witnessing something we consider impossible. Then, as his brain came up with multiple scenarios that could indeed lead to an event like this, the fear was replaced by curiosity, but it waited just long enough to let him smile and greet me back before he had to spit out the question burning in his throat.
“What are you all dressed up for?”
You
sure you’ve got that ‘gentle’ shtick down if you’re freaking out your roommates, Red?
“Well, nothing in particular,” I hum as I make my way to the kitchen table where he sits. “Just decided to try it out. What do you think?”
[ ]
“You look great.”
Damn straight I do. “Thanks,” I answer as etiquette demands, then head for the door. “I’m going out. Might still be out by the time you get back from school, so don’t be surprised.”
“Alright,” Abe says, “have fun.”
Unless the idea is that Red didn’t pick up on Abe’s reaction since he’s too busy being off in his own world where he’s dapper and suave, it might have been worth him noticing Abe’s reaction, even if it was obviously through a very biased lens.
“Bye,” I shout and exit - but right after I've closed the door, I freeze in realization.
I took my knife with me. I didn't even think twice about it. It felt so natural, so right, but having a weapon like that on my hip… won't it scare people away? Shouldn't I leave it at home?
Leaving aside any legality issues that would crop up IRL, this screams “guy who goes into the boonies” and not the sort of dapper and suave vibe that you are trying to go for here.
It sounds like the smart thing to do, but the thought of walking around without anything to defend me sends shivers all around my body. What if I accidentally piss off someone bigger and stronger than me? A group of people? Someone with a weapon of his own? I could end up dead. Or get seriously injured in a way that disqualifies me from the position of Bringer.
I can't let that happen! Everyone else will just have to learn to deal with my blade. I'm allowed to carry it, dammit. I'm allowed to protect myself. The knife stays and that's that.
I do wonder though if the paragraph here is dense enough that it ought to be split into two parts.
That settled, I step down to the front yard and take in the weather. It's sunny and warm with only a few puffy clouds in the vivid blue sky - but a refreshing wind makes sure no traveller gets too hot. Wonderful weather for a walk. If the water wasn't still cold, it'd be a fantastic day to go out to the beach.
Actually… maybe a few people have decided to go out and test the waters. There might be a considerable crowd over there, which means plenty of opportunities to strike up conversations.
That's where I'll head, then! It's been quite a while since I went to the beach, anyway. Maybe I'll spot some wildlife while I'm there, too. Something I'm actually interested in.
So much for going to the beach to go and chat, since I can already tell that Red’s going to go spotting Pokémon and get into more predator fantasies. ^^;
I navigate my way to the southward shore with the help of familiar knowledge and street signs, making sure to maintain perfect posture on every street regardless of the amount of onlookers. The scent of the sea fills the air. Soon enough, the building and trees make way for the big blue and sandy brown.
Nobody’s there. The beach is empty. This, of course, makes sense very quickly as I remember that it’s the morning of a weekday.
Well, whatever. I can still hang out for a while. It’s nice here.
Red: “...
Prooobably would’ve dressed more casual if I knew this place was going to be deserted, though.”
I step off the road and make my way past the grass and onto the wooden walkways, not wanting to drag my pant legs through the sand. Each step makes a nice clack. I look around to focus on the people that are there - yes, there are some people, it’s just that there was basically no one at first glance. Like that woman in a blue uniform over there.
Would recommend italicizing the SFX of Red’s footsteps.
Wait. Blue uniform. A policewoman. What’s one doing here? Maybe she’s looking for me? But I left no evidence…
Yes, that's right! I left no evidence. That means she can’t be here for me. Or if she is, she can't do anything.
This right here... this is actually the perfect opportunity for me. What better way to prove my calm than by confronting my worst threat face to face?
Red, do you have any idea how much you’re tempting fate right now?
I set my course for the woman in blue leaning against the wooden railing. Next to her sits a large pile of cream-colored fuzz - an RK9 unit. As I approach, it’s the one to pick me up first, perking up its ears and then turning to me with a reserved look. The human, having noticed her partner’s motion, faces me as well. I study her Unovan features, gray-green eyes and auburn ponytail and imprint them onto my memory. Now that I’m being social, I’ll have to get good at remembering faces.
Oh, so if you’re not connected to Red’s kill list or in his immediate monkeysphere, you’re basically a background NPC. Since he sure seemed to remember the face of Joanna’s brother well… probably. Maybe. Might have just been an imagined face.
“Good day, officers,” I greet, hands out of pockets and relaxed at my sides even if the right one keeps wanting to touch the scabbard.
“Good day to you too,” says the woman, smiling, adjusting her cap. The arcanine gives a brief wag of its tail.
“Making sure the beach is safe?” I ask her, walking over to the railing and leaning on it.
“No, they’ve got life guards for that,” she chuckles. “We’re just spending our break here.”
That actually makes me wonder given his whole Houndoom motif, how Red sees
Arcanine. Since they’re bigger, stronger, and also associated with his one-time rival back in his stint getting TPP-ed around Kanto.
I nod, then look the arcanine in its deep brown, alert eyes. Its black nostrils quiver. What are you smelling there, sweetheart? Nothing but wool? Thought so...
“Brave of a fire type to venture so close to the sea,” I remark. Its expression loses a bit of kindness.
I take it that’s a sign that the Arcanine understood that remark and is busy
-ing over it.
“If she wasn’t brave, she wouldn’t be a cop,” responds the woman, ruffling her partner’s neck fur, the fluff engulfing her entire hand. “Ain’t that right, Wendy?”
“Yeah,” the mon mumbles. I guess she was offended somehow? Whatever.
Just saying, this isn’t boding well for your planned experiment in being a socialite given how you’re already striking out with this woman’s doggo.
A second of silence passes. Another. I should say something.
“Is it busy over at your station right now?” Better than nothing.
“A bit, yeah.” The woman looks at the sea. “Have you bumped into those people walking around showing a picture of their missing relative?”
Oh? Now this is interesting. “Once, yes.”
I can already tell what
that was like.
“We keep telling them we’re doing everything we can, but I guess it’s hard for them to just stand around and wait. Can’t blame them for trying, even if it’s very unlikely they’ll get any kind of clue so late...”
“I hope they do.” Because I’m a person who loves happy endings. I wish no one would ever have to suffer or die. The thinking process of a sadist absolutely eludes me.
Lol. Lmao. I like how Red can be so completely devoid of self-awareness sometimes.
“Either that, or that they accept defeat. It sounds cruel, but keeping alive false hope isn’t good for the mind.”
“I can get that.” I place my hands onto the railing, one clasping the other. “What do you think happened to her?”
Is that
deliberate there? Since the officer didn’t say anything about the missing person being
female yet.
[ ]
“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to go into that much detail.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
I suppose that’s as far as I can follow that path. I better ask about something broader that she can yap her gums off about, then.
I feel that it is probably worth slotting in some sort of reaction here, either from the officer, or from Red internally realizing “wait, why did I
say that?”
“So, there’s something I’ve been wondering...” I begin. “There’s that show on TV, Celadon Police. You’ve probably seen it. How much of that would you say accurately depicts what it’s like to be part of a police force?”
She throws her head back with a groan, and that’s how I know I’ve struck gold. “Ugh, that show -- I hope you’re not too much of a fan, because I hate that show. Well, it’s not like I hate hate it - I don’t wake up each morning and shake my fist at the gods for it existing - but...”
I’m guessing that this is their in-setting equivalent to CSI. :V
Her rant continues from there, and by the amount of tangents, it seems that it won’t be ending anytime soon. I smile and throw generic remarks every now and then to keep her going while my real focus lies elsewhere.
Shining hair. Clear skin. Elegant shape of skull. Her looks and her profession contrast as much as her red locks and the teal sea. How does one keep their appearance that pleasing to the eye while chasing down and wrestling criminals each day? Did I merely catch her at a fortunate moment in time?
… Not sure if I like where this is going, Red… .-.
Though it’s not as if there aren’t details bridging the gap between white and blue collar. I can tell through her uniform that her arms are firm, and a healing scar runs across the back of her right hand.
I get the feeling that she knows I’m eyeing her up. She likely thinks that I’m checking her out. It would fit a narrative, sure - why else would a random person come up to a police officer on their break to simply chat? Little does she know, what I’m wondering is how it’d feel like to grab her by the jaw, unsheathe my knife, drive it through her suit and skin, cleave open her abdominal cavity and rip out her intestines like the stuffing of a teddi plush.
Arcanine:
Red: “... Right, you’re still here. (Good thing all of that stayed safely in my head…)” >_>;
But I won’t do that. I have the weapon and I have the element of surprise and by the Gods I have the will, but I won’t do it. I know it’d doom my future and probably present as the arcanine would burn me to a crisp. I’ll just keep standing on the edge of this bottomless chasm, smiling at the pit and receiving a smile in return. So go on, honey, keep talking. I can’t get enough of this feeling of control…
Yeah, I figured that that would be a damper on Red’s eagerness to take a swing. To say nothing about how the officer is likely trained to subdue armed assailants.
“Ronnie?”
Oh fuck, what was that?
I find the source of the voice near the road - some guy, also Unovan, coming here. Blond, bulky, pretty tall. Another cop, but off duty and out of uniform? Wait. That necklace. Is that...
The woman gasps. “Samson!” She nearly frolics to him, but the man beats her to it. As he approaches, I see the golden pendant hanging from his neck more clearly, and yes, it’s the Wheel of Arceus.
Ah,
that’s Samson. I can already see how he’s going to be a headache for Red here.
A fucking Arcean.
“So it is you!” he says, reaching the walkway and hopping on the planks. Some sand flings onto my shoes, and I quickly kick it off - but it doesn’t seem like the man noticed. Fine, I guess I won’t bring it up, since I’m supposed to be all sociable and shit.
Red:
“And is this Wendy?” he asks the arcanine, who nods, leisurely wagging her tail. “Oh my goodness, you’ve grown so much!”
“A hundred and fifty kilos of fluff and fury,” says Ronnie, ruffling Wendy’s fur again, now more aggressively.
Big pupper is big. I can already see Red subconsciously inching away right now.
“You were just a growlithe when I last saw you, weren’t you?” said Samson, scratching behind the arcanine’s ear. “When was that, anyway? Shaymin’s Grove?”
“Shaymin’s Grove, yeah! We were assistants there.”
“Right!”
Wonder if that’s a beat location or some sort of restaurant.
I ponder whether I should chime in to remind them of my presence, but fortunately that proves needless.
"Oh, sorry," says Samson, directing his gray-blue eyes at me. "Who's your friend?"
Ronnie waves her hand. "Oh, just a stranger that came up for a chat. I don't know him any more than that."
Red: “Well, she’s not
wrong... (though did she need to say it like
that?)” >_>;
“Oh, sorry to have interrupted you.” His tone is enragingly earnest. This guy’s a real people pleaser. A mareep among mareep. What every mother would want their son to act like. I hate him, hate him, hate him.
“It’s fine,” I say anyway. He can still redeem himself by fucking off.
But, of course, Ronnie doesn’t allow him that choice. “So, I heard you’ve become a full-fledged priest, is that right?”
He nods excitedly, and I nearly gag. Not just an Arcean, but an Arcean priest. Not just a believer of nonsense, but a preacher of it.
I can already tell that any conversations about religion between these two, if they happen, are going to get quite contentious.
“That’s so cool!” Ronnie says. “You know, I’ve been meaning to catch a sermon of yours, but, eh… I never remember it when I’m free. My cousin says they’re great, though!”
Samson chuckles and waves a hand. “Give your cousin my thanks, and don’t sweat it. You’re always welcome, though!”
I suppress a sigh and gaze off at the sea instead. It’s alright. This guy’s got to realize his rudeness soon and piss off. I’ll just wait until then --
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Oh, you motherfucker.
Phone call? That sounds like a phone call, there.
Ronnie digs out her phone and turns off the alarm. “Sorry,” she says, “break’s ending. But it was great to see you! Oh, and, um...” She glances at me. “Nice talking to you, too.”
I nod with a forced smile, and she goes back to Samson. “I’ll make it a point to come to a sermon of yours, and we can talk after, okay?”
“I’ll come too,” says Wendy. I guess I wasn’t alone in being ignored, at least.
Maybe it’s just an artifact of when I was reading this, but I didn’t realize until
just now that Wendy was speaking in human tongue herself. I suppose that it makes sense that given that that is a thing that Pokémon can be capable of in this setting, that a police dog would be conversant.
“Sounds good! See you then.”
“Yeah, see ya!”
They wave each other goodbye, and the police duo head back to their car further down the road. Samson steps up to the railing, taking Ronnie’s spot, a wide smile on his face. As he leans on the railing, I get off it.
“Sorry again for cutting you off like that,” he says. “You know how it is with seeing old friends, though.”
Red:
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
No, I don’t. “Sure,” I mutter.
I can already tell that this conversation is going to get nice and awkward.
He leans his other arm on the railing as well. "So, not to get all missionary, but are you acquainted with Arceism?"
[ ] No. No, no way. I am not letting this guy preach his fairy tales to me. That's where I draw the line.
I think that it might make sense to describe a bit more of Red’s thought process before he goes full “that’s it, I draw the line at being proselytized”.
I look him right in the eye, unflinching. "I don't want to hear a word about your hokey religion, pony boy."
Stupefied. That’s his face right now. He just could not expect that I’d say such a thing. Oh, poor man. Reality hit him hard.
What will he do now? Will he get mad? He has to get mad. I insulted his entire world view, trivialized it to animal worship. Go on. Get mad. Escalate this. Show me how your rage overtakes your senses. Show me the evil within that you deny --
He sighs. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Red: “What? But I just
insulted your religion! You’re just going to take that?”
Samson: “Kid, if people are mocking my religion, it’s a day ending in ‘y’. Trust me, I get this a lot as a priest.”
Oh my Gods. Oh my Gods. He really just pulled the ‘bigger man’ shit. I hate him. I hate him so much. Kill. Kill him. Knife. The hilt is cool to the touch.
Ah yes, trying to stab the guy who was explicitly described as ‘tall and bulky’. That sure sounds like it’s not a disaster waiting to happen.
Stop!
I freeze. I pull my hand away from the hilt and tuck it in my pocket instead.
I breathe in and breathe out. Time seems to stand still between us, at least. I can take a few seconds to choose my next move.
It ends up being rather unimpressive.
Samson: “Um… are you okay right now?”
"Whatever," I mutter and turn away. Walking off, I worry he might still yell something, something that could threaten my self-control again.
After hearing nothing for fifteen seconds, though, I conclude that the situation has come to an end. I breathe a little more easily.
I don't quite dare look over my shoulder to see if he's left, so I keep my course until I'm off the beach entirely. Only then can I stop at a roadside bench, sit down and fully process what just happened.
You got friendzoned by a guy who made you feel completely inadequate? :V
Okay. That could’ve gone better. I mean, I did just fine with the cop, which is the part that I consciously got into, but I still shouldn’t have almost shanked that Samson guy. Maybe bringing along the knife was a mistake after all. I should have realized my volatility… it’s like I’d forgotten all about the supermarket incident yesterday.
Well, what’s done is done. I should just avoid the beach for a while now in case that guy likes to frequent the place. I don’t think I should face him again before I’ve practiced with more people and gotten my hatred under control. Though I don’t even know how I’d want myself to handle things if he bumped into me again. Really only two ways about it - what I ended up doing this time or apologizing. And I do not want to apologize to an Arcean. If anything, they should apologize to me. For what, I’m not sure, but they should.
He’s going to get forced into doing this in a future chapter, isn’t he? :p
Alright. I guess I should just get right back on the rapidash despite getting singed. Just… stick to less aggravating types of people. Find a giratinist, maybe. We might have something in common.
With a sigh, I force myself to stand up and continue walking.
Red: “Thank Helix that’s the last that I’ll ever see of-
Oh
come on! Seriously?!”
