Pokémon Hunter, Haunted

[canisaries]

Oh. Boy. That was one ride. What can I say, it was really really great. And so sad seeing him deteriorate. It started out like a simple enough story (objective: Kill ghost), but in the end, it went full American Psycho. And I love the movie.

AMERICAN PSYCHO MENTIONED HELL YEA

I think it’ll do great as an original work.

I'm so happy to hear this!!! I'm excited for the original version, but I've also been nervous, and words like this give me more confidence.

The original one is by far the most gory section of the entire narration.

This is pretty much true, and it is something that I feel a bit conflicted about. On one hand, I love what I've written for it and it clearly shows how Red loves gore instead of being repulsed by it like a regular person, but it can also give a false impression of the level of gore the story will have and unnecessarily scare away some more squeamish readers. But I do think the Alternate Prologue has helped a bit with that, even if I don't think it's as interesting or well written as the Original Prologue.

I liked your depiction of the mental health sector a lot. Very realistic and non-threatening.

I'm glad to hear it feels true to life, since it is something I used my own experiences for a lot. Even the entrance of the mental health clinic is inspired by the entrance to a place I went to for evaluation.

The only thing that was a bit off was that someone guided him out of the hospital. From my experience, when you find a person lying on the floor and scratching themselves in a psychiatric facility, clearly having a psychotic episode, you’d call a nurse. They then would call a doctor, who would send Red to the ER – if necessary with force. A hospital can contain a person against their will if they are a danger to themselves or others. And a psychotic break usually qualifies. If he can’t calm down on his own, he’d be given either tranquillisers or a strong antipsychotic. But then we wouldn’t get the last two scenes, and that would be a loss. But I was internally screaming ‘no! Go back!’ with every step Red went further away from the hospital.

Well, the idea was that the person did not arrive until after Red had stopped scratching himself and was only lying there quietly, though it is still a bit of a stretch. I think I did better than in the last version, though, where the guy only asks if Red is okay without escorting him out or anything.

(Other minor nitpicks here: only two weeks for an appointment?! And a doctor in a hospital treating non-hospitalised patients is rather rare. That’s usually what ambulant doctors do. At least over here)

I started replying to this with the fact that Dr. Marsh isn't "that kind of doctor" but rather a person with a doctorate, but now that I googled it, it seems you do have to be a medical doctor to be a psychiatrist, making her indeed "that kind of doctor". But she is a psychiatrist rather than a general practitioner or such, and I don't think the places I went to for my psychiatrist's appointments were hospitals but rather clinics, hence the setting of a mental health clinic here.

I'm trying to keep the healthcare system in this fic close to the Finnish one so that I can better utilize my personal experiences and don't have to do as much guesswork as I would with other systems. I also want to have the healthcare system of Kanto be affordable and accessible for the sake of this story since I want Red's reluctance to utilize mental healthcare to be primarily because of his own paranoia and pride rather than anything logistical.

Pacing in the beginning. Chapter 1 and 2 dragged imo. Or maybe it took these two chapters for me to get used to the narrative style. But for me, the story found it’s groove starting with Red in the waiting room of the clinic and encountering the spider. From there on, everything flows swiftly and there’s almost no room to decompress any more. I was a bit annoyed by the out of left field theatre references in the beginning of ch4, but starting with him setting Michi “free”, I wasn’t able to put the story down any longer.

I don’t really know why the first two chapters suffer a bit. My guesses are that ch1 has a lot of things happening. They all reveal certain aspects of Red’s character, but they are also hard to keep track of after a while. It feels like three chapters by the time he reaches the graveyard. Maybe shelving the breakfast scene would help? His distress about helix comes through in the supermarket quite a bit.

Chapter 2 I think only suffers from it being really awkward. Red listens to Michi’s and Joanna’s convo without a problem, and for a long period of time, but they just don’t take any notice. It’s almost like he becomes a 3rd person narrator at this point. And later, in the woods, he remembers his bags, which were completely dropped the entire chapter. I still don’t know if he stalked a girl with 100$ worth of groceries or if he left them at the graveyard.

Chapter 4, first half, has these theatre references that were not built up so far (Red doesn’t take specific interest in theatre). And him monologuing a lot felt a bit supervillain-y, to the point where I expected for something to go wrong. I was pleasantly surprised that actually nothing went wrong – well, at least not the things I expected. But overall, the pacing here was really nice. And from there it’s just a breeze.

Oh, yeah. The start being slow is something that's been a headache for me for a longer time. You're not the first person to point it out - in fact, it was pointed out in the very first version already. I wanna make them drag less, but then I look at the scenes and simply believe they all serve a purpose. I'm glad to hear the story picked up for you at the third chapter, though - the previous complaints, I think, still included 3 and 4.

I'll take a note of your opinions on chapter 4. The intention was to show Red as very into what he's doing now and putting this whole poetic spin on it, but it is thematically pretty out of the blue now that I think about it.

The twitch, which is never really explained. He talks about it in ch8 and that was really vital. But before, if I hadn’t known what the twitch is, I would have been at a total loss. When he opens up about it in ch8, it almost recontextualizes his behaviour. But then again, it seems to be a widely accepted phenomenon, so why doesn’t he get more help?

Now, none of that really made a ton of difference while reading. It’s just something to keep in mind for the original version I guess.

Yep, that's the big ol' ball and chain of this fic - the Twitch, inherited from the TPP origins. It's something I'm glad to be able to drop completely in the original version instead of trying to desperately explain the lore somehow in the middle of a plotline that has nothing to do with it.

I think my thought was that it's a very rare and not well understood thing, but it's something a lot of people have still heard of because it's a freaky mystery and people love those. Abe would also have mentioned the Twitch to the psychiatrist while reserving the time, and she would have researched it for this appointment. But I could make that clearer in the chapter.

A brief explanation about the Helixans would have also been nice. The fic only mentions that they are a bronze-age civilisation, and that being Helixan makes you better. Kinda like the spartans? But I know you have tons of wb on them, and I found none of it here. It wasn’t really necessary for understanding the story, but I think it would be nice to dive a bit deeper into Red’s delusions.

Worldbuilding unclear. Kiiinda ties into the point above, mainly with the twitch. If it is such a widely accepted phenomenon, why isn’t Red getting more help for what happened? And how come Red lives with his step-brother but not with his mother and Abe’s father?

But my main hiccup is with the pokemon. Fonz can talk and goes to work, helix goes to school and has a girlfriend over, but he can’t talk. The pidgey that “can” talk as well as the murkrow have bird-intellect. Generally, it was all over the place and I do not understand how the pokemon in this world work. Not that it is really important, but I can tell you that I was puzzled for way longer than healthy if Red’s mom had been turned into a Nidoking.

(lmaoing at mom nidoking) Both of these are unfortunate problems related to the scope of the fic. Other stories in the series go deeper into these topics (the oneshot HIM for Helixians and multichapter Seiren for the pokémon), but there's little space and time for them in HH, but continuity also means that they can't just disappear. The pokémon problem is something I can luckily nix from the original version, but I do have to think about how I'm gonna introduce the Helixians better there, as they're staying and will become much more relevant in HH2 which is also going to be originalized like HH1.

I think I've explained the pokémon thing a couple of times in other reviews, so I'm gonna find one of those explanations and put it under a spoiler here to give you better clarity on the world:

Spoiler: Pokémon in HHverse

The role of pokémon in this universe is pretty complicated. They are creatures which can go one of two ways - either they grow up wild and keep to an intelligence level similar to those of their animal counterparts, or they grow up intelligent and mentally become like human beings. Which path is taken depends on the upbringing they experience when young - wild mon rear wild mon, and intelligent mon rear intelligent mon (unless they're massively negligent).

Pokémon training and battling does exist, but it can range from being an animal trainer to something more like a sports coach depending on the fighting team. Intelligent Pokémon, upon proving their sapience in a standardized government test, are allowed citizenship that gives them rights practically equal to humans. In the history of the world, though, this is a rather new development as pokémon have been considered to be beneath humans due to being perceived as having "animal" as their "default".

There is strong opposition to trainership nowadays, though, by humans and mon alike that view the practice as having dangerous power dynamics - although nothing prevents an intelligent pokémon from becoming a trainer themselves. Many don't like that pokéballs are programmed not to be able to catch humans but not pokémon, either, or that they're even called pokéballs to begin with. Wild Pokémon are protected (though can be caught and trained as long as it's done with respect to the wild mon's legal rights), hunting is disallowed and the only meat most humans consider ethical to consume is the meat of non-pokémon creatures such as fish or other seafood (though this doesn't stop Red from occasional hunting). Mammalian, avian or reptilian non-pokémon do not exist as their corresponding pokémon have filled practically all their ecological niches.

The reason for all this CRAP you see here is that once upon a time I thought the pokémon characters of Twitch Plays Pokémon were Really Neat and I wanted to keep them, but then I had to address how training and wild mon could exist at the same time as walking talking human-intelligent mon. The answer is "poorly".

(link to the review reply this was pasted from)

Him struggling to find a reason to get out of bed hit really home for me. I can totally understand finding everything so deeply pointless and boring. And I hate calling that feeling “boredom” or “laziness”, but that’s what it boils down to, according to people I talk to at least. I totally get him there. On a very personal level. It’s probably a sign of depression, and considering how estranged he feels from a society and family that doesn’t understand or accept him, these feelings are understandable.

I'm definitely going for depression now, and I think I already did it without intending to in the first version of the story (I had only recently been diagnosed with depression).

He does however deeply care for Helix. At first I was a bit befuddled by this, but then I realised that he doesn’t empathise with Helix either. He does not consider his feelings. And when he does, he does so to gauge an outcome for himself.

I'm so glad someone noticed this! I recall googling resources about how whether sociopaths can "love" and a first-hand account described it as possible but as a selfish, obsessive kind of love, and I've since then tried to make Red's relationship with the omanyte Helix like that.

As to his schizophrenia — my theory is that the entire god-spiel is an early manifestation of that. He clearly has a lot of hallucinations and a very fleeting sense of self-worth. In comes a god that made him his chosen, explaining why he is so different, even stronger than other people. He is yet another defence mechanism he subconsciously came up with to deal with the trauma of the twitch and that perfectly fed into his schizophrenic predisposition. Since this is strongly genetic, maybe his dad’s disappearance wasn’t just simply him ditching his son.

This is a really interesting interpretation! I do have to say it's something I don't canonically intend, but it's a very intriguing theory nonetheless.

His fursona getting the better of him seems to also become more of a problem the less connected to his god he feels. The Houndoom might be a manifestation of his violent tendencies, but also seems to be a distinct part, separate from his personality. Possibly an image for his psychotic episode.

Ohhh holy shit you're so spot on. You'll know what I mean once the story progresses further.

Since we talked about criminal culpability a few days ago: Red be held responsible for Michi’s death. He knew right from wrong and clearly knew that his actions would end in her death. Especially since he snapped out of it and then made the conscious decision to kill her. He can be convicted in a court of law, but he is currently not able to start his sentence. He’d be sent to a mental facility until he gets better. His stay there may or may not count against his sentence.

Oh, the culpability question actually has to do with something else that hasn't happened yet - but this is still useful.

Also. Elliot Rodger, the supreme gentleman. I once took the four hours or so to listen to an audiobook version of his manifest (it’s on youtube, in case you don’t already know it). Red talks a LOT like him. The entire narcissism side of their characters, together with wanting to violently retort against society that has, in their eyes, wronged them is eerily similar. Even the time Red gave himself and society a last chance by exposing himself to and interacting with it is a thing that Rodger did quite often, actually. Though, Red is a lot more fun to listen to. Rodger is just miserable.

Interesting! I may listen to that myself.

The first two sentences are double.

ohh my god how did that happen lmao. fixing immediately

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Thank you so much for this absolutely massive review! (Like holy crap, I think writing this reply actually took me an hour.) I have a feeling that it's one I'm gonna be coming back to whenever I start feeling insecure about my works again. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the fic as I'll slowly, slowly manage to get through this revision.

 

[SparklingEspeon]

Hi this is me experimenting with a reviewing style that hopefully doesn’t take me three hours to put together a review from start to finish, so it’ll be less of my composed essay style and more me just spitballing things as I go along with a summary of things at the end.

Chapter six:

• Red’s dream (at least that’s what I assume it is) is very fascinating—definitely accurate to his ‘philosophies’
• Wait is this Helix’s version of testing him? Going from the italics, it didn’t seem like it was his mental monolgue…
• I feel like the funeral is part of a dream—it feels odd to me that Red would be at a funeral like this of his own accord, and also weird that his mother would just go to any funeral being held and drag him along. Also, it’s Johanna’s funeral. The type of thing Red would never willingly get within 5000 yards of.
• Oh. An Iron Maiden. Charming.
• Definitely a dream. Though… I’ll admit I’m not sure what the funeral part symbolizes; I don’t think Red would feel remorse over his killing, so it just reads like the ‘I lost my pants on show and tell day’ nightmare.
• Pretty sure that was more than a dream tbh…
• …Or it might still be one?
• So is him leaving his heart on the sink symbolism of some kind? That’s how I’m reading it.
• Omg he actually did have the ‘I lost my pants’ nightmare
• oh wait this is the real one, I think, not falling for that again
• We haven’t really covered the topic of Red’s parents yet, so it’s interesting to see it come up here. Though I do think the reveal of ‘oh this confirms something big about my dad that my mum was hiding from me’ felt like btw tacked on. He’s weirdly causal about it in general and that’s probably on-purpose, but it felt weirdly like a passing thought for something that would probably be significant.
• Red seems like he would get along with Yoshikage Kira from that metamorphosis comment
• Wait I’m confused—if Red couldn’t understand Yamask!Johanna, how come he can understand Wendy the Arcanine?
• wow red chill you cant just fantasize about killing someone like that
• Ah so this is Samson, and immediately he’s managed to piss Red off to the point where he nearly stabs him

Chapter Seven:

• Oh right, ‘mon just talk in this universe
• I do wanna say it’s a bit weird that the omanyte has basically acted like a cuttlefish pursedog this whole time, and only now it’s suddenly become a moving character in the story? Getting some mild whiplash here.
• Man Red is going downhill fast, that description of the guy’s face is pretty disturbing
• Red really out here thinking he can make himself into a time lord by stealing someone else's heart
• Yup called it, I had a feeling Red was going to cave and get meat
• …A body? In the middle of the supermarket?
• Wait whAT
• The heck, is this another dream? I get Red’s not mentally well, but… I dunno. Feels too trippy to be real. +how do you kill someone and envision it as buying fish :fearfullaugh:
• Oh okay a hallucination, that makes more sense
• More dreams…
• Huh, so is this actually Michi from beyond the dead in his dream right now? It could be his hallucinations, but this feels too composed (and also he feels like, no remorse/conflict for killing either of these two).
• Well this is some IT tier predatory fantasy
• Is this The Beast…?
• That was what he did to his pants last time, wasn’t it

Chapter Eight:

• Huh, that’s a very… interesting description of illness. I wonder what the cause is—food poisoning? But then from what…
• And now we see another example of Red unconsciously demonstrating while he’ll probably never merge with HELIX—remembering favors implies feeling gratitude, which is counteractive to what HELIX has asked.
• Get help… feels like Abe’s already condemned him.
• Feel the best you have in the weeks… while sick… x 2 doubt
• ~~he does at least own it~~
• Whoops caught
• Mmm coupling this scene with the spider really makes for good tensions
• Ah so the Twitch comes back… Feels like it’s not our Twitch, if it makes computers malfunction like that
• Wow that was a fantastic screwup :grohno:
• That scene just kept driving the nail in worse and worse—was the spider a hallucination? I’m guessing so, and it’s interesting symbolism that it’s both the thing he fears most and the thing that appears when he’s the most vulnerable. Anyways it looks like he really screwed up bad, so time to see what he ran into in—

Chapter Nine:

• Oh. More spiders.
• Well now I’m terrified
• These… aren’t real, right? I’m assuming they’re hallucinations given the therapy scene, so…
• Myep it was a hallucination, but I’m not sure if that’s better given what comes next.
• I guess this is the breakdown chapter—it had to happen at some point, given that the whole fic he’s been fundamentally at odds with what HELIX wants from him. Not sure if this is going to be the wake-up call or what sends him over the edge.
• Wait WHAT
• Is the apocalypse just causally happening? Doesn’t… HELIX need a vessel?
• Ah so now we see HELIX’s true colors… I wonder if this is a hallucination induced by HIM.
• Wait what
• Johanna?
• Yyyeah I’m pretty sure this is a hallucination. The houndoom/mareep thing feels a bit too fantastical for this story.
• Yup, called it
• Wait what
• Does he… think HELIX wants him to kill himself?

So in general I liked these chapters! One thing that’s kind of confusing to me is the sudden agency of pokemon in the story. Thus far we’ve barely seen them, aside from like the slaking bouncer. But now they’re here and they talk and it feels kind of weird? It’s like, there’s a whiplash where the story basically regulates them to objects/background pets, but then they talk like full characters and I get jarred—especially with the omanyte. I think some of this was Red training himself to see him as an object, but then suddenly he has full agency here and it’s jarring b/c he was basically a pursedog before this.

I do find myself wondering where the lines between hallucination and actual supernatural influence blur. It’s executed pretty well here—I’m not sure what the Twitch is in this universe, doesn’t sound like our Twitch, but I did like reading Red’s slow descent into insanity and what I’m guessing is the lines between reality and fantasy beginning to blur for him as his mental cornerstones begin to crumble. I’m still not sure whether HELIX is actually real or not. All signs seem to point to it being schizophrenia type illness and it probably is tbh, but it also feels methodical and predatory in a way that makes it feel like a bit more than one. Though that could be my love for The Monster Was Real All Along trope speaking.

You layered the tension here pretty well, especially in the supermarket, therapy, and HELIX scenes. It was done with a finesse on a level that I haven’t really seen from any other story recently, and really earns the thriller genre IMO. Every time it felt like the knife couldn’t twist any further, it somehow does, and even though half of it was basically probably one big hallucination, you manage to pull it off in a way that doesn’t make it feel like a horror movie funhouse. The scenes at the end of Chapters Eight and Nine are 100% great cliffhangers and had me clicking to the next one (or wanting to, in the case of chapter nine—pls update soon ): ) faster than I could even stop reading. Really well-done horror all around.

I believe there’s three more chapters to this, so I’ll be interested to see how you finally wrap it up. In particular I’m hoping we get to see Samson get back into the mix again, some answers for what HELIX and the Twitch are, and a resolution for Red that hopefully doesn’t end with him killing himself. But overall, really well-written! I’ll be back once you’ve posted the final three to see this cap off.

~SparklingEspeon

Listening to: Zordoom and Gloom – Mark Mothersbaugh

 

[Chibi Pika]

Chapter 9

hoooo boy this chapter

I've often said that the reason I like whump is because characters show you who they truly are when they're at their most vulnerable. When the fronts, the masks, the defense mechanisms all get peeled away, what's left behind?

This chapter is basically "Red has a meltdown over the realization of his mortality for 7k words" and I would not have it any other way. The previous chapters had laid the foundation for the way that fear is the driving motivator behind everything Red does, and how all his grandiose posturing is just a way of masking that fear and feeling powerful and in control. But man does this chapter put it out on full display. Red is freaking depressed, and the best illustration of that is the part where he looks around and just cannot comprehend how other people manage to exist. How do they go about their lives knowing that they're going to die? When he was high on the promise of immortality, he assumed they were just clueless, unthinking, too stupid to realize. But now that it's been stripped away, he comes so agonizingly close to realizing that they must have something to live for, something to give value to a temporary existence. He feels different than them; for the first time, he feels lesser than them.

And then HE appears. And even though the reader is primed to expect more hallucinations after the spider scene, it's just so, so easy to sink into what Red is feeling along with him. He feels utterly pathetic. Reduced to begging for his life from a being incapable of mercy. And in the end, even being a mareep is some small way an improvement over being human, even as he's fleeing for his life. (Side note, I now have the image of Red as a shiny dubwool stuck in my head.)

He's so close to figuring it out. There are a few moments where Red stumbles over some of the logistical oddities in HIS return. If I recall correctly, next chapter is the one where he figures out what's really causing all these hallucinations, which gives him a little bit more leverage to get some of his usual swagger back after this darkest hour.

Until next time~

 

[kyeugh]

4. life

interesting chapter title, considering.

this was an interesting chapter. so far, even when red has been at his most depraved, there's something holding him back. maybe it's that he's performing a ritual and has to observe the rites. maybe he's not in a position to actually act on his violent thoughts and has to beat them back in order to not get completely murked by the police. whatever the case, it has the effect of making him feel slightly neutered, to an extent. we know that he's a guy who's done some pretty sick shit, someone with violent impulses, but what we see of him is a guy who—despite his crowing about being a hunter and a predator and above the rest—is either following orders on the behalf of a greater power and must quash his own wishes or, more frequently, simply conforming, with the differences between him and the rest merely being internal.

here, to red's credit, he basically is all the things he's saying. his proclamations about his hunter's nature are actually realized. while i was reading the pidgey scene, i was initially a little confused as to its purpose, but in hindsight it's quite clear and i think it's a great addition. to me, it clearly demonstrated that red is someone who revels in power. it's not the actual act of killing that excites him, but simply the thought that he could—that he can hold someone in the palm of his hand, exerting full control. as he's walking through the forest, thinking about what he's about to do, he almost seems drunk with anticipation—not for the killing, but just for the chance to be fully in control and make his victims squirm. he claims to himself that he doesn't kill the pidgey because it wouldn't be right to kill something so beautiful, but i wonder. i was somewhat left with the impression that it was more because he had gotten what he wanted from it; he had held it in its hand, able to take its life at any moment, and that was enough.

anyway, maybe i'm wildly off base here. naturally this is your character, and perhaps i'm picking up on subtext that isn't really there. but it was the impression i got, and i found it really compelling.

onto more concrete details, i liked the action sequences here. the self-assuredness of red's narration makes the kinks in his plan feel more surprising. michi barely gets to talk but she feels packed with personality here and it's hard not to admire her guts. i liked the way red sort of respects her lifestyle and sees a bit of himself in her. not sure how much of his praise was facetious, but like, she's living in the woods separated from society, which seems like something red would approve of. i'm curious what role she'll play in the story to come. it seems like she's seen a bit too much to be left alive, and she's outlived her usefulness as a hostage.

it was interesting to see joanna again, although it seems that she doesn't really remember shit. i wonder if it was really necessary for red to go all this way, then, but i guess once he's there he's there. it felt like kind of a lot for him to villainous-monologue-style describe to her what he had done and what he was about to do, but he's cocky enough that i'm willing to believe he just wanted to bask in his own Genius there and wasn't considering the possibility that things might go awry.

Spoiler: line comments

The sun, the path and the trees - my spotlight, my red carpet and my crowd. They're all here to cheer me on, the star of the show, and guide me to the stage, wherever it may be. I have to keep a sharp eye out for it, lest it find me first. And that's not how the playwright wants it.

The sign of the stage, the mark to confirm its discovery, is fortunately unmistakable: pale pink hair. Yes, the location of my stage is wherever my antagonist --

loving how melodramatic and self-absorbed this is. it really illuminates a lot about his character i think—he sees himself as the main character, and he perceives his control over the situation to be so complete as to be scripted.

"Fuck you!" chirps the pidgey perched in a nearby rowan. Its beady black eyes radiate innocence, starkly contrasting its words. Why would…

Oh, I think I get why. Some young kid, maybe with a friend or two, had learned that some birds like to mimic speech, and taught this one to say this hilarious catchphrase. They must have encouraged it with treats, and now it wants me to reward its performance.

i love this. i know your wilds and domestics have physiological differences, but i wonder if in principle you could teach any pokémon to speak.

It wouldn’t be right to break those feathers, bend them funny, ruin that perfect array of quills. Possibly even snap one of its hollow, delicate bones whose light frame allow it its flight.

There’s no satisfaction in destroying something like this. It doesn’t break beautifully. It’s only elegant if intact.

this is pretty interesting. i think red's decisions would seem arbitrary from an outside perspective, but there's sort of an internal rule system here, something that makes it okay to rip the coin off a meowth but too far to mutilate a pidgey. ultimately what is and isn't beautiful is a subjective call, but it feels concrete here from his perspective.

The bird hops onto my palm and sits down almost immediately. I give its belly a gentle scratch with my thumb. The pidgey leans in, narrowing its eyes in enjoyment. Even through the glove, I can feel its softness and warmth.

i would die for this bird.

The touch of only denim pierces my heart - but the lance withdraws just as quickly as I remember my knife is in my backpack

it was a bit unclear what "the lance" was here, not sure the metaphor quite works as is. maybe: My fingers only brush denim, and a lance of fear pierces my heart. It withdraws just as quickly as I remember my knife is in my backpack.

I grab her knife with my left hand still covered by the scarf and shove the rag onto her face with the right. The force knocks her backwards, and I drop with her, pinning her down where she lands.

the master hunter has subdued a homeless child. all in a day's work.

I manage without trouble, because of course I do. I am a Helixian.

I chuckle, withdrawing. “I’m just kidding! I’m not that weird.”

omg lol. i'm laughing both because it's kind of funny that he did this but also because he says this as if it's going to matter to her whether he usually sniffs his victims or not.

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5. death

wow, despite what i said five seconds ago i did not expect michi just to evaporate like that.

this chapter was really sad. to me it felt like an encapsulation of the totality of red's mental state. he has soaring highs and plumeting lows, sometimes in rapid succession. what really stood out to me here was the moments of lucidity. red is capable of looking at his situation pretty objectively—he's not so far into his enthrallment or self-aggrandization that he can't see his position for what it is. he has violent urges he can't always control. he isn't good with people. he doesn't exactly have a future lined up. his family is broken. he doesn't fit in. he's afraid of death and seeks purpose. he's willing to admit these things, and he seeks solutions to them; he's crying out for help and even considers seeking it. you can almost hear the heartbeat of a different timeline here, where things go a little differently—he comes out of his trance upset and horrified by what he has done, seeks help, and gets on the road to recovery.

but red is being offered a better deal here, frankly, one that doesn't force him to come to terms with his shortcomings but rather erases them, and all it requires is the abandonment of a moral system that he already finds reprehensible. from his perspective, it really would be foolish to leave it behind, especially when he's in this deep and this close to ascension. that's the sad part; it's not as simple as him making a different choice here or there. he would have to completely overhaul his view of the entire world to arrive at any other outcome here, would have to adopt a new morality that recontextualizes his own actions as abhorrent rather than based and REDpilled. it's difficult to see a character who is skating on the edge of redemption but unable to ever fully embrace it.

i thought the sequence with kohath was effective, although it may have dragged a little bit. his chase of michi was cool. it was a dumb decision but it made sense for him to make it. he's kind of operating on horny brain except... it's for blood. stabbing a yamask to death wasn't enough, so he allows himself a little more, not realizing that the more he allows himself the more he'll want, and then oh no michi is in a disintegration circle now.

for better or worse this feels like a bit of a clean slate for red. he's... sort of cleanly solved all his problems here? it appears? something tells me it'll come back to Haunt him (lol!) but i'm not sure how yet. you mentioned this was the end of the arc so i'm looking forward to seeing what's next for him. i wanted to review the sixth chapter tonight but this has taken more time than expected, so i'll be back tomorrow to wrap up.

Spoiler: line comments

Something is forming onto it.

i wasn't sure what this meant.

...is my face… drying?

I can hear something… the wind!

in both of these cases, there's some weirdness related to capitalization around the ellipses. ellipses are sort of weird in that they can punctuate the end of a sentence or they can indicate a break within a sentence. in the former case, you want to capitalize afterwards to indicate that a new sentence has begun. i think you want to do that in "is" in the first quote and "the" in the second one. a rule of thumb i use is that if the sentence wouldn't make sense if the ellipsis was replaced with a space or comma, the following word should be capitalized.

I catch my reflection in the mirror and study it further. I’m tall. My shoulders, wide, while my waist is narrow… a silhouette so masculine, yet so graceful. And look at that pretty face, pretty hair! By the Gods, I’m beautiful! No wonder HE chose me! I’m perfect!

hahaha. omg. wish i had what he has.

But, yeah… I guess now I should get the spores and put her under so I can carve the memory erasing seal onto her skin. She’ll have a weird scar and maybe wonder what that is, but nothing should tie it to me.

oooh, so that's how he deals with this. clever, i forgot he had Squid Runes:tm:.

Man, it's so easy. Killing people is so easy!

i laughed

A scared little girl tied up and you feeling like a god. Your bloodthirst still unquenched. You need to get that out of your system. Killing a ghost didn't do it. But how about… a chase?

oh dear. this could not possibly go wrong in any way.

“Hey, Michi…” I start. My voice is deep. Intimidating. Masculine. I really hit the jackpot with this set of genes! “You know how I said I wouldn't hurt you?”

She recoils.

“No, don't worry, that still stands. I just want to… play a little before we say goodbye.”

well, if the sniff wasn't enough, she's definitely gonna be thinking he's some kind of weirdo now. i'm laughing at red continuing to exult about his own genes.

May it fuel her speed and guide her way in these dense woods.

i wasn't sure about "fuel her speed." i'm not sure speed is a thing that can be fueled. given, perhaps? maybe "May it quicken her steps"?

Like a day-old girafarig, she stumbles into a trot, then a gallop.

this was a cool simile, evokes a very specific image.

I dive into the woods, Michi’s signature pink hair in my sights.

"signature" felt oddly familiar/affectionate.

Teeth clamp around her neck with the force of a tyranitar. The predator flips her over, then seizes her throat again. She gags. Her limbs flail. In vain. The grip gets tighter. Her blue eyes lose focus. Consciousness is leaving her. The last thing she will feel is pain as the houndoom drains her life to fuel his own.

But houndoom don’t have hands, do they?

They don’t. Then why are there hands? Wasn’t it supposed to be teeth around her neck, not hands? Wasn’t she supposed to be a fuzzy little pichu?

She’s not. She’s human. I’m human.

Wait --

wow. this really drives home just how much red lives inside his own head.

Hand shaking, I bring two fingers to her neck.

Thump, thump

it felt a little weird to use sound to describe a sensation he's getting through touch, but that could just be me. i might i replace it with Yes, there was still a pulse or something.

Bruises. Bruises that perfectly fit my hands. Could they even have my fingerprints?

extremely paranoid thought. love it.

Her head rolls onto its cheek, exposing her neck again, and my teeth, my teeth want to bite into it…

"Her read rolls onto its cheek" was a bit confusing for me. maybe: Her head turns to the side, cheek to the ground,

The taste of blood... the salty taste of life, of pain, of death…

"salty" is interesting.

I wish that was as easily done as said. Just parting my eyelids, what’s the problem? Well, it’s the earthshaking terror that, when I do open those eyes, I see nothing. I see the woods and Michi’s body and myself on the ground and nothing else. That this’ll have been some kind of waking dream and nothing more. Another… another delusion like the one that left me strangling that girl against all my intentions. More proof that I’m not stable anymore. Not sane anymore. That I won’t make it until the real ascension, whenever that would come. If it would even come...

i really liked this. the thought of this must be terrifying for him, that all this super fucked shit he did was for nothing, that he's imagining it all, and that there is not going to be an exit ramp for him—no ascension, nothing. what could be worse for him?

"There is no longer need for that," the man says, his voice as deep as always. "WE shall soon be as equals."

i did not expect this to come so soon in the story, won't lie.

The man - in other words, HE in the form of the first Helixian king, Kohath - steps to me.

i like the way this kind of evokes the godhead. kohath and HELIX are definitely separate, and red perceives them that way, but here they aren't. they're distinct but one at the same time here.

Like a loving father. Or how I'd imagine one to feel, anyway.

yowza.

His hand slides down my cheek onto my neck and travels along my arm. Having reached my hand, he takes it into his own, fingers interlocked. His other hand he slips into my hair at the back of my head. His warmth draws me onto him like a magnet - and while I flinch at my loss of control, he makes no motions to reject me. I can hear the beating of his heart, and it’s perfectly calm. The exact opposite of the drumroll in my own chest.

"Now,” he whispers - his breath like wind rustling autumn leaves - “the moment has come to meld US into one."

feels somewhat sexual. it doesn't NOT make sense, i feel like he's had those thoughts before. but it's interesting.

I don't get it. Why would HE come all the way here just to…

Oh. No. I understand now. It wasn't real. None of it was.

oop.

But now I'm an adult and I know that what I am and what the world is don't mesh. I can't go to school, I can't get a job - I learned that years ago, and what happened at the supermarket today undeniably only highlights that. So all I can do is wait. Spend each day sitting at home, slowly drowning in the lack of things to do.

Maybe I was right to kill Michi. Kill her before she became miserable like me.

jeez. this is really, really sad.

I pull out my knife and slash it across the tip of my little finger without delay. A droplet of blood emerges slowly

a slash producing only a single, slowly-emerging droplet felt like a bit of a mismatch.

And if I’m poor enough, HE might even consider me unfit to be any kind of predator, and then… I’d be slaughtered like all the other mareep.

i wasn't sure specifically what was meant by "poor" here.

The psychiatrist. Could she possibly...

No, no, no! You can’t let anyone know. Are you honestly naive enough to believe them when they say what’s discussed is confidential? If you told that psychologist how much you want to cut people open and play with their organs, you’d be dragged over to the nuthouse before nightfall. In what world would a society of caterpie willingly keep a spearow around?

really sad. i wonder if it's true. i suspect no.

Why, had I the ability to fly to the clouds

i found "had I" a bit weird. i think "if I had" would flow better here.

 

[Namohysip]

And I'm here finally to read more! Picking up where I left off, it seems that I had left a review for the prologue and chapter 1 previously, so now I'll continue from there. At this point I feel like I know this Red from remarks about him more than the actual story, so we'll see what happens as I dive back into the "source material," so to speak.

And so Red sees Joanna, right. And as a ghost, so she's somehow come back to haunt the place, one way or another. And now he has to figure out how to exorcize someone, or at least 'kill them again' to get them away. Will that be his main goal here? Since he caught the name, I wonder if we're going to have a classic 'dude at the computer Googling some strange phenomena to research the cryptid' or something. I wonder what that's even like in the Pokemon world where such things are apparently as common as thunderstorms.

Did that twelve year old just look around as if to check for people, and then say, out loud, that there's an abandoned cabin they can go to hang out instead? Holy crap how many horror movies did you not watch. Meanwhile Red has to figure out how to be the antagonist that always gets away at the end of the movie to keep cashing in the big bucks at the box office.

I wonder how Red is able to keep up with all this chatter and not get detected after all that walking, when I think about it.

Oh right, Red's scared of the Internet. He can't really Google anything if that's the case, unless he asks his resources to do that. And then risk being discovered for 'why are you looking up ghosts, anyway?' I mean I guess he could come up with an excuse... but that seems like too big a risk for him.

"Your aura didn't lie" lmao he's fucked.

Or not. Still, if she was able to sense things with more detail, she would wind up becoming quite a danger to him. I wonder how commonplace aura readers are--clearly common enough that he understood the concept readily, but not common enough that he'd met one until now, perhaps.

Next chapter... I feel like a Slaking would be able to just one-hand grip Red's entire torso and haul him forward like a stick. I know he isn't scrawny or anything, but. Slaking.

Death glare as the opener for not losing your knife? So much for convincing Abe that you're totally fine I guess.

There's something unsettlingly familiar about Red's reasoning for why he should have some time to do something later, such as Michi and the Yamask being a problem. Predicting how they are, weighing possibilities, the risk and reward of each one--everything Red does is cold and calculated, always with the end goal in mind and with little else concerning him. Now the question is how much the psychologist will pick up on... and how far his knowledge and authority can take him. In a way, this is probably going to be a battle of wits.

Huh. Scared of bugs. That's an interesting one.

And I'd tell them to fuck off because I already have a cult.

That's some r/suicidebywords material right there.

Oh wow, Abe said a lot of things it seems. Now that I think about it, I do wonder how well known that sort of thing was, all things considered. Something about... the strange chaos wiped memories of it, or something, right? I don't recall the specifics behind the main lore premise of all this.

Oh right, books, those exist. What a sad state of affairs that I didn't realize he could just go to a library and read a book on the subject to get the proper information he needed. It seemed that now he had to figure out just how to get his goal...

Third chapter, that scene with the Pidgey... Something about that feels more significant than it's supposed to seem in the moment, but I can't quite place it. Maybe it's just me trying to get a grasp for what's going on in that crazy head of his.

Wow, and then the main other character is already taken care of, right there? Certainly misleading, which is what makes me think that might not be the whole story... The moment Red put on the mask, things got kind of strange. He can put the mask on, but once he pops it off, doesn't that end the possession? I wasn't clear on how that all worked... And all things considered, I feel like all of this is happening too easily for Red. But I guess you have to make a serial killer cultist somehow get this all working without being caught somehow.

But that's all I've got for now. Certainly wasn't expecting that to happen in chapter four of all places; where does it even go from here? Guess I'll find out eventually.

 

[canisaries]

here, to red's credit, he basically is all the things he's saying. his proclamations about his hunter's nature are actually realized. while i was reading the pidgey scene, i was initially a little confused as to its purpose, but in hindsight it's quite clear and i think it's a great addition. to me, it clearly demonstrated that red is someone who revels in power. it's not the actual act of killing that excites him, but simply the thought that he could—that he can hold someone in the palm of his hand, exerting full control. as he's walking through the forest, thinking about what he's about to do, he almost seems drunk with anticipation—not for the killing, but just for the chance to be fully in control and make his victims squirm. he claims to himself that he doesn't kill the pidgey because it wouldn't be right to kill something so beautiful, but i wonder. i was somewhat left with the impression that it was more because he had gotten what he wanted from it; he had held it in its hand, able to take its life at any moment, and that was enough.

anyway, maybe i'm wildly off base here. naturally this is your character, and perhaps i'm picking up on subtext that isn't really there. but it was the impression i got, and i found it really compelling.

Loving the analysis! I'd say it's accurate save for the part of Red not being excited for killing itself - the power is a big part of it, but so is the gore.

this chapter was really sad. to me it felt like an encapsulation of the totality of red's mental state. he has soaring highs and plumeting lows, sometimes in rapid succession. what really stood out to me here was the moments of lucidity. red is capable of looking at his situation pretty objectively—he's not so far into his enthrallment or self-aggrandization that he can't see his position for what it is. he has violent urges he can't always control. he isn't good with people. he doesn't exactly have a future lined up. his family is broken. he doesn't fit in. he's afraid of death and seeks purpose. he's willing to admit these things, and he seeks solutions to them; he's crying out for help and even considers seeking it. you can almost hear the heartbeat of a different timeline here, where things go a little differently—he comes out of his trance upset and horrified by what he has done, seeks help, and gets on the road to recovery.

but red is being offered a better deal here, frankly, one that doesn't force him to come to terms with his shortcomings but rather erases them, and all it requires is the abandonment of a moral system that he already finds reprehensible. from his perspective, it really would be foolish to leave it behind, especially when he's in this deep and this close to ascension. that's the sad part; it's not as simple as him making a different choice here or there. he would have to completely overhaul his view of the entire world to arrive at any other outcome here, would have to adopt a new morality that recontextualizes his own actions as abhorrent rather than based and REDpilled. it's difficult to see a character who is skating on the edge of redemption but unable to ever fully embrace it.

I'm very glad that Red's mental distress is coming across well - he talks shit and all, but he's actually miserable and afraid. While he isn't meant to be likable (in the the regular way, anyway) and he's done plenty of horrible things, I want the reader to feel sympathy or at least pity.

in both of these cases, there's some weirdness related to capitalization around the ellipses. ellipses are sort of weird in that they can punctuate the end of a sentence or they can indicate a break within a sentence. in the former case, you want to capitalize afterwards to indicate that a new sentence has begun. i think you want to do that in "is" in the first quote and "the" in the second one. a rule of thumb i use is that if the sentence wouldn't make sense if the ellipsis was replaced with a space or comma, the following word should be capitalized.

I actually used to do this some years ago but it got called inconsistent... and since then I've just always used lowercase, a bit with the idea of "this could technically be a run-on thought".

"salty" is interesting.

It is? I thought the flavor of blood just was salty. I do suck at recognizing flavors and smells though.

i wasn't sure specifically what was meant by "poor" here.

The sad thing is that someone already pointed this out before and I was like "no, it's not that confusing, I'm keeping it." Shows what I know.

Oh right, Red's scared of the Internet. He can't really Google anything if that's the case, unless he asks his resources to do that. And then risk being discovered for 'why are you looking up ghosts, anyway?' I mean I guess he could come up with an excuse... but that seems like too big a risk for him.

He's also paranoid enough to think his browsing history could be spied on.

Or not. Still, if she was able to sense things with more detail, she would wind up becoming quite a danger to him. I wonder how commonplace aura readers are--clearly common enough that he understood the concept readily, but not common enough that he'd met one until now, perhaps.

It doesn't really get defined in the story, but I think around one in a few hundred or so? Something that people clearly know is a thing but won't be relevant for vast majority of cases.

Oh right, books, those exist. What a sad state of affairs that I didn't realize he could just go to a library and read a book on the subject to get the proper information he needed.

for better or worse this feels like a bit of a clean slate for red. he's... sort of cleanly solved all his problems here? it appears? something tells me it'll come back to Haunt him (lol!) but i'm not sure how yet. you mentioned this was the end of the arc so i'm looking forward to seeing what's next for him.

Wow, and then the main other character is already taken care of, right there? Certainly misleading, which is what makes me think that might not be the whole story... The moment Red put on the mask, things got kind of strange. He can put the mask on, but once he pops it off, doesn't that end the possession? I wasn't clear on how that all worked... And all things considered, I feel like all of this is happening too easily for Red. But I guess you have to make a serial killer cultist somehow get this all working without being caught somehow.

i guess you both are just gonna have to find out :nyehehe:

Thank you so much for the reviews! Much appreciated.

 

[kyeugh]

6. rebirth

i like the theming with the chapter titles going on here, it's neat.

the dream sequences were really cool and very evocative. i liked the way he was like okay surely i'm awake this time, i've been there before lol. in each scenario, he feels that he's in full control at the beginning, only to get sucker punched with a fear or insecurity of his at the end, causing things to go rapidly downhill. the imagery was really cool too; it was exciting watching him dart around as a deep-sea dragonair, thrilling to watch him attempt to navigate the perilous social situation and the consequences of his actions, and downright creepy to see him walking around as a dead man, decomposing, pulling his heart out of his chest. i especially liked the escalation in the second dream, the way things just kind of got worse without leaving him time to question the absurdity of any of it. it felt very accurate to how my dreams tend to go, lol. as evocative as the third dream was, i'm not sure i understood the point of it as well as the other two—there was cool and creepy imagery, and it expanded on the pattern of "waking up" from dreams, but that's all i really got out of it.

it's sort of nice going back to restrained red after a couple chapters of him basically just going ape. red spends a good part of the middle of the chapter hyping himself up, making himself look nice and presentable, and generally just reveling in his self-satisfaction at his Transformation and deceptive abilities. you get the impression of a guy who feels like a million bucks and like he can take on the world; he's sort of just strutting around outside and makes a trip to the beach on a whim, something that's a bit surprising from someone usually so calculating. he's cocky to the point that he decides, you know what, i'm just going to go chat with this cop, which was a baffling decision but i guess it went well enough for him. i really enjoyed the way he feels he's asserting control over the situation and holding her in the palm of his hand even though he's like... basically just having a normal conversation. the only outstanding thing he's really doing here is withholding information, which she'd have no way of acquiring really, but he's super self-congratulatory about doing this. this sets up really well for his mental state to come crashing down when he's intruded upon by samson.

the way they bounce off each other is really nice. samson is earnest and genuine in a way red can't be and that infuriates him. he's someone whose natural, intuitive behavior is attractive to people in a way that red can't seem to manage even despite his best attempts and the use of his self-proclaimed Peak Deception powers. in a way, samson embodies everything red can't have. he's just a man who is happy and lived and, i assume, doesn't particularly fear death or consequences as a result of his faith. he's totally unburdened by the things that a few chapters ago drove red to the brink of suicidality, and of course that enrages red. what's worse, he did all this by being the exact type of standup, conformist guy that red hates so much. they're excellent foils and i loved the way that he tips red into wanting to stab stab kill kill death blood die just by being himself.

the line about red going to exposure therapy was interesting. i'm not sure what the problems are that he's seeking to get fixed. anxiety about getting caught, maybe? his paranoia? those are the only things i could see him bringing up to a therapist. this was surprising especially after just a bit ago he was musing about how he could never see a therapist, as they'd surely throw him in the nut house. i'm curious to see what he expects out of the appointment, as well as what he actually gets, because i'm quite certain they will not be the same things.

Spoiler: line comments

I blink and realize my eyes see much more than I thought - the eyes of a predator that hunts in the darkness.

"my eyes see much more than I thought" was a little weird to me. maybe: I blink and am able to see much more than I expected—the eyes of a predator that hunts in the darkness.

the aura in my jewels

aura is stored in the jewels

This is nature celebrating its design.

cool line.

The magikarp flails, but in vain

i think "The magikarp flails in vain" would flow better here.

Some remaining streak of human thought ponders how I’ll fillet this without hands and cook it underwater

A dragonair’s throat must be stronger stuff than a human’s.

maybe: "A dragonair's throat must be made of stronger stuff than a human's."

One small fry won’t fill my belly. I need the entire buffet.

i feel like "the entire school" or perhaps "shoal" would work better as a metaphor following up on "one small fry" here.

With a smell like this, it must taste amazing. Saliva pools in my mouth.

this is the most nitpicky thing imaginable but i'm not sure sea creatures produce saliva.

Eyes wide as plates stare back. Eyes I know, framed by blue arms and a spiral shell.

oh my gosh. i knew it.

...Actually, yeah. I think it is a funeral.

oh my god lol he fell asleep at a funeral

“And now, a speech from one of her close friends, Ichiro Akai.”

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.

oop. i'm not sure how he would have ended up there on accident, or why he would be called upon to give a speech, so i'm guessing this a dream, but coming off the heels of such a fantastical one it feels a lot more real.

Even the shoes are white.

swag. i like the symbolism of him wearing white here, though. where everyone else mourned the loss of a loved one, he had reveled and exulted.

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.

i'm laughing, this is such a good detail

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?

i like this. even in the last dream, he's a fucking fish man and is aware he has not always been a fish, but when he "wakes up" from it he's still like "oh wow ok so that was a dream." i like the way that he's sort of cognizant of the way none of this shit makes sense but doesn't quite get to it being a dream. feels true to life.

“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

loved this, it's very revealing and also kind of funny that he thinks they'd care, considering.

The coffin before me creaks. Its cover slowly opening.

i'd suggest either replacing the period here with a comma or changing the second sentence to "Its cover is slowly opening."

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…

...Oh, oh, I’m still dreaming. That’s obvious. The jagged mess of teeth of the reflection twists into a smile.

this is so fucking weird and unsettling. well done.

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.

interesting. very curious what he perceives his "problems" to be here.

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.

jesus christ lmfao

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.

Let’s not kid ourselves, though. He’s probably dead and buried. 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.

interesting, i wasn't expecting red's dad to really come up at all. i wonder if he's just musing here or if he'll actually come into play later on.

More like widowmaker’s peak… is what I would say, had I ever killed married men.

lmfao. dork

I give the mirror my most amiable, benevolent, tame smile.

There it is. Peak deception.

i can only imagine this was the most horrifying smile of all time

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.

american red would be a sight to behold i think.

If the waters weren't still cold, it'd be a fantastic day to go out to the beach.

i think "If the water wasn't still cold" would sound a bit more natural here.

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?

what the hell, lol. red is a weird guy.

“Yeah,” the mon mumbles. I guess she was offended somehow? Whatever.

oh my god, it makes sense for that headcanon but i did not expect that thing to be able to talk. maybe it was the way red was talking about it sort of patronizingly, as if it weren't right there.

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?

i found this a little strange from his perspective. obviously he's afraid of the police for the threat they pose to him, but—especially as he describes him here—they're basically the closest thing to his ideal of a Hunter or whatever that exists within sanctioned human society. shouldn't he see that as beautiful and respectable? shouldn't he think that her looks make sense considering her job as a pursuer?

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.

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...

man, this is unhinged. "I can't get enough of this feeling of control..." i bet you can't bud.

“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.

love this. red specifically hates that there's nothing to really hate about this guy. i love the way that red is sort of getting off on the control he's exerting only for it to come crashing down the moment a normal guy appears.

I look him right in the eye, unflinching. "I don't want to hear a word about your hokey religion, pony boy."

PONY BOY

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.

red is auto-saving

I guess I should just get right back on the rapidash despite getting singed.

i really liked this idiom.

 

[canisaries]

as evocative as the third dream was, i'm not sure i understood the point of it as well as the other two—there was cool and creepy imagery, and it expanded on the pattern of "waking up" from dreams, but that's all i really got out of it.

I don't think I can really say or even call attention to it without spoiling things... but it's there. It may be clearer in retrospect.

in a way, samson embodies everything red can't have. he's just a man who is happy and lived and, i assume, doesn't particularly fear death or consequences as a result of his faith. he's totally unburdened by the things that a few chapters ago drove red to the brink of suicidality, and of course that enrages red. what's worse, he did all this by being the exact type of standup, conformist guy that red hates so much. they're excellent foils and i loved the way that he tips red into wanting to stab stab kill kill death blood die just by being himself.

Totally! From the beginning, I designed Samson to be as much of an opposite of Red as possible - cheerful, sociable, altruistic, great relationship with family, worships a "good" god in an actual established religion rather than some weird eldritch squid god alone in his basement. In circles that don't know who he is, I sometimes refer to him as "chad mormon".

the line about red going to exposure therapy was interesting. i'm not sure what the problems are that he's seeking to get fixed. anxiety about getting caught, maybe? his paranoia? those are the only things i could see him bringing up to a therapist. this was surprising especially after just a bit ago he was musing about how he could never see a therapist, as they'd surely throw him in the nut house. i'm curious to see what he expects out of the appointment, as well as what he actually gets, because i'm quite certain they will not be the same things.

Oh, there seems to have been a misunderstanding here - he didn't literally mean going to therapy but rather applying the general principle of exposure therapy on his own, aka going out and socializing.

i'd suggest either replacing the period here with a comma or changing the second sentence to "Its cover is slowly opening."

oh hell that ones just straight up an embarrassing typo or something. will fix

american red would be a sight to behold i think.

reminded of this piece from 2017

oh my god, it makes sense for that headcanon but i did not expect that thing to be able to talk. maybe it was the way red was talking about it sort of patronizingly, as if it weren't right there.

She goes quiet because of that, yeah, but it doesn't show very well when she barely talked before that.

love this. red specifically hates that there's nothing to really hate about this guy. i love the way that red is sort of getting off on the control he's exerting only for it to come crashing down the moment a normal guy appears.

seething and coping

Thanks for the review!

 

[canisaries]

only two months for a new chapter this time! nature is healing.

anyway - welcome to act 3, the final one. thank you everyone who's read this far, special thanks to all reviewers, and i hope you enjoy reading until the end. (and the bonus chapter, too! and the sequel but it's way too early to talk about that lol.)

this chapter is rated mature for strong language, blood, wounds, self harm (as in harming oneself, but it is done for functional reasons rather than as a way of coping) threats of violence (some against a family member), body horror (focusing on the face, internal organs and fingers) and vomiting. it is also strongly recommended that you do NOT read this while eating. you'll know why. alright, enjoy!

---

CHAPTER TEN
Can't Remember

---​

“Don’t!” Abe yells, desperation all over his face and voice. But he doesn’t understand. This is how I’m gonna solve everything. This is how I’ll get everything back to normal.

Back at the cabin, all those days ago, I took the mask from Joanna and put it on my face to get her to possess me. It melded with my own face, nearly suffocating me in the process, but I managed to tear a hole for my mouth before any permanent damage could be done. As promised by the book I read, the possession made her yamask body tangible to me, allowing me to stab her to death. I saw her die right in front of my eyes, bleeding the same crimson that always leaked from her eyes before white flames came and ate away the rest of her body into nothingness.

Or so I thought.

In reality, she never died. I never managed to kill her in her ghost form. It was only an illusion she showed me. A damn convincing one at that, considering it took me this long to realize what it really was. What all of this really was. I get the feeling that wasn’t purely my own fault, either - she has to have influenced my mind somehow to keep me from coming to this conclusion before.

But now I know the truth, and I know how to fix things. Since the mask is what started the possession, and the possession is still going on… it has to mean that the mask never really came off. So now I have to take it off. No matter how much it’s gonna hurt.

I place the tip of the knife against the skin of my temple. It’s cold. I feel it tremble. Am I really gonna be able to do this?

“Please, don’t!” Abe tries again, tears forming in his eyes.

“Shut up!” I snap, and he recoils. “I… I have to do this. Go away! You’re distracting!”

“Why?” he cries. “Why do have to do it? What are you even doing?”

“Leave!” I yell, but he’s not leaving. Fuck. Annoying little shit… I just have to do it with him watching.

I close my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. On the next breath out, I’ll do it. Breathe in, breathe out. Dammit. I couldn’t do it. Just try again. Breathe in…

New noises. Abe is doing something. It sounds like --

I open my eyes and catch him in the act, phone in his hand. He sees that I see him. He freezes.

“Little shit!” I lower the knife temporarily and stand up to approach the boy. For the first second, he’s too scared to move, but then he begins backing away like the little rattata he is.

I extend my other hand. “Give me that,” I growl, but he won’t give me the phone. Gods. I didn’t want it to come to this, but he leaves me no choice.

Slowly, I point the knife at him. ”Give me the phone, or I’m gonna hurt you.”

Fear utterly paralyzes the boy. I can practically hear his pulse reach records. In some other situation, it’d give me pleasure, but right now, all I can focus on is my survival.

I reach the other hand again and slowly grab the phone. He eases his grip on it carefully but obediently.

I look at the screen. I flinch as I remember my phobia, but push aside the painful memories to check the only thing I need to check - whether he managed to start a call. It doesn’t look like he did. I lock the screen and nearly pocket the phone, but then remember it can be tracked. Instead, I throw it onto the couch.

Okay. Now I also have to keep Abe from fetching the phone while carving my own face off. That makes things even more difficult, but if I want the illusions to end, I have no other ch-

A blood-chilling noise familiar from my nightmares creeps into the soundscape. Sirens.

They’re coming for me. They have to be coming for me. I don’t know what got them on my trail, but surely Joanna is to blame, confusing me and tricking me so many times. Or maybe Abe did manage to make a call, even one second of silence, and there were cops nearby that thought to check it out. I don’t know if that’s how it works, but I have to take that possibility into consideration. In any case… the best option for me right now is to flee. But before I do that, there’s a chance I can give myself a little head start.

I raise the knife again. Abe raises his hands with a whimper.

“I was not here,” I say, slowly and clearly. “I was not here, and I didn’t do anything. Do you understand?”

He nods fervently, face wrinkled up in distress. Looks like he gets the picture.

I back away, open my jacket and shove the knife in the breast pocket. The tip of the blade rips through the bottom, but for a makeshift scabbard, it’s good enough. I rush up the stairs and open the door to my room --

“Where are you going?” Abe shouts after me.

I stop to think of a lie. “The beach,” I yell back. It’s not too far away, but it’s at least it’s somewhere I know I’m not going. Though Abe can be smart. He’ll probably realize my exact thought process. Shit. Shouldn’t have said anything.

I leap across the room to the window and open it. The sirens’ wailing becomes painful to the ears, but it doesn’t seem like the source is within view. Good.

I climb on the windowsill and focus on the old, sturdy oak growing right outside - specifically the branch closest to the window, extending right above me. I haven’t done this in a while… I hope I can still pull it off.

I jump and grab onto the branch. My grip on its rough-barked surface holds, but a screaming sting on my left wrist nearly makes me fall. Fuck! I forgot about the psychic nullifier. I hiss to help bear the pain and shimmy along the branch to the trunk, where I step down to another branch and climb my way down to the ground. I’d like to catch my breath, but red and blue lights begin to flash near the front of the house. Shit. No time to rest.

I run to the back yard and shove my way through the hedge - very glad it’s not any thorned bush - and emerge at the back of another house. Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, I circle to the front yard and step onto the street. From there, I can start walking in a regular, nonsuspicious manner.

But where am I gonna go? I know to head away from the house, but I can’t just keep walking forever. I need a place to hide. I guess the woods are better than the streets. The cabin? I guess it’s free now that --

Michi. I killed Michi after I got possessed. It might not have actually happened. She might still be alive. She might have told the cops what happened. She might be the reason they’re after me!

I want to run to the woods and kill her as fast as possible - but that doesn’t seem smart, no. I should keep her alive, but as a hostage, like last time. Last time didn’t really work out, granted… but now that I know what to look out for, my chances are better, right? And Joanna knows that. She has to be watching me, so she knows that. She wouldn’t risk Michi’s life again with a worse chance of success, would she?

I don’t think I have any options. I have to go for it. It’s the only shot I have of forcing her out of my head.

Or, no, wait. Wasn’t there another? Just before I left the house, I was going to do something, I was going to…

I was going to carve my own face off? Holy shit. Why did I think that? That’s insane. There’s no guarantee that would work. Even if it did, I’d probably bleed out very soon after and die. Did… did Joanna put that thought into my head? Or was it my own, and she blocked whatever part of my brain would have normally rejected the idea? How much control does she have over my mind? Or is her power limited only to causing hallucinations, and I’m actually just going insane on my own?

I shake my head. This is too confusing. Right now, I need to just focus on getting to the cabin. If Michi’s there, I can force Joanna to stop fucking with me. If she’s not there… at least I’ll have a place to hide out at for a while.

I stop my somewhat-aimless wandering and think about where I need to head. This area isn’t the most familiar to me, but I’m pretty sure that if I take a left at this crossing I’m about to reach, I can make it to a street that’ll take me near the graveyard. I wish I knew where exactly the cabin was so that I could maybe avoid crossing some big streets, but I only know how to get there through that graveyard.

Okay. I reach the crossing and take the left. Looks about the way I expected. Okay. Okay. Good. The situation’s under control. I’m gonna get through this. I just gotta --

I hiss at a small sting on my left palm. What the hell? I raise the hand to see a tiny, clean cut right below the base of the index finger. Where did that come from?

Another cut, another sting, right next to it, connecting to the end of the last. As soon as it’s done, another one comes, forming a kind of zig-zag, maybe a crude, angular S…

The invisible blade draws a box to its left. Or… an O. It’s… it’s writing.

SO YOU
FIGURED
IT OUT?

…Joanna. This has to be Joanna. Is this her way of communicating with me? Isn’t there any better way, like…

“Why don’t you just talk to me?” I growl, though keep my voice down. “Can’t you make me hear things?”

A wave of warmth passes over the palm, healing the wounds. But only to make space for more.

I GET TO
HURT YOU
THIS WAY.

"Drama queen."

Another cleaning swipe.

YOU HURT
ME. IT’S
ONLY FAIR.

I groan, closing my fist. I shouldn’t be reading what she’s saying. She’s probably just trying to distract me while she reroutes my walk straight to the police station or something.

I look around at the trees and the asphalt road and the pastel houses and their well-kept, idyllic yards separated by hedges. I've just arrived at the turn to the street I need to be on, and I take it. Everything seems all good and real. I just need to be alert…

My palm warms up again. More stings. Damn. No, don't look. Focus on walking. Even though it's terribly boring. Even though this walking pace is infuriatingly slow.

If it's slow, though, I can take a peek, right? She can't do any harm in that little time. Just a quick peek. It might even be something useful.

I open my hand and glance at it.

MADE YOU
LOOK.

And a drawing of a dick.

I shove the hand in my pocket and keep walking. "Fuck you," I mutter, but I realize I'm not done. Now that I know she's listening, I have a hell of a lot to say.

"You've got a lot of nerve," I begin, "putting me through all those illusions. What was the point of all that, anyway? Just to fuck with me?"

Another wave of heat and a few incisions. I don't even have to look to see that she wrote 'yes'.

I sigh. "Well, it's not gonna work anymore. If anything weird happens, I’ll know you’re to blame. And don’t even bother trying it just to shock me. You should know by now that I’ve seen far worse things than you could ever think of."

I don’t feel anything on my hand. I guess she had no retort to that. Just silence.

Silence…

The sirens have stopped.

No. Were they ever there to begin with?

The realization brings a grin to my face. The sirens were an illusion as well. Or, no, wait - my grin melts away. Do I know that for sure? They could’ve just turned them off. Do they turn them off if they don’t find the guy? Dammit. They still might be onto me. But at least now I know there’s a good possibility they aren’t. As long as there’s a possibility, I’m winning.

I pocket my other hand and adopt a cocky smile. ”What do you think, Joanna? Were those sirens real?”

There’s a low rumble beneath my feet, then sharp crackling ahead - the asphalt is breaking. But it’s… off. Just a bit short of real, like an effect in a movie. It’s only visible with careful scrutiny, but it is there. And now I can tell.

The cracks form letters. This is her new notepad.

THEY WERE.

With a dismissive humph, I march through the illusion. The cracks fade away as I step on them.

“Of course you’d say that,” I say. “You might even be telling the truth. But if you think I'm just gonna give up and turn myself in, you're dead wrong. I'm gonna keep fighting, and I'm gonna find a way out of this. I'm gonna come out winning, and I'm gonna get myself the life I deserve."

THE LIFE
YOU
DESERVE?

The message changes before I can respond.

YOU DON'T
EVEN DESERVE
TO BE ALIVE.

"Oh?" I tilt my head, taunting her. "What happened to every life being precious? What happened to human rights?"

The next cracks are noticeably thicker.

YOU ARE
NOT
HUMAN.

I smile at such satisfying words. "Damn right I'm not," I whisper. "I'm better."

YOU'RE
PATHETIC.

I shrug. I guess insults are all that she has left. I take a moment to check my surroundings to make sure I keep my upper hand - yep, everything looks the way it should. The field of gravel on my right tells me that the street by which the graveyard is pretty close by now. Soon enough, I'll get to slip into the woods… the peaceful, calming woods. I won't need to worry as much about passersby overhearing my conversation there…

New cracks start forming in the asphalt. What, more insults?

HE ISN'T
REAL.

...What?

I stop, not wanting to brush away the message yet. What does she mean, does she mean…

She means HIM.

Rage surges through my body. My hands curl into fists. The nails dig into my palms.

"How dare you," I say, voice slow and quiet but brimming with hate. "How dare you fucking say that."

It wasn't enough that she pretended to be HIM, that she bastardized HIS image and HIS prophecies. Now she has to commit the greatest act of heresy and deny HIS very existence.

"You're very lucky you're incorporeal now," I add. "If you were in front of me right now, in your old human body…"

I stop myself before I get carried away. Glancing around, no one else seems to be close, but it still probably isn't smart to speak death threats aloud. She seems to be able to read my mind to some extent, anyway. She should already know what I'm imagining...

The cracks change. For a split second, I have the hope of them spelling a desperate plea for me to stop, but…

YOU MADE
HIM UP.

She just ignored everything I thought and said. To repeat this ugly, ugly lie. For what? Does she actually think I'm gonna believe her?

Another change.

YOU ALWAYS
DENY THIS.

Always…?

YOU KEEP
CONVINCING
YOURSELF.

What?

IT'S TOO PAINFUL
TO SEE THE TRUTH.

"...Stop." I don't like this. I don't like what she's implying.

YOU'RE DOING
IT AGAIN.

"No," I say. "You don't understand. I know HE is real. There is…"

I switch to unvoiced thoughts.

There is clear proof. HE led me to a chamber filled with items of Helixian past. I brought those items home. HE taught me spells, spells that changed real things in the real world. Would I really have gotten away with all my murders if the silencer circuit didn't work? The transportation circle I used to bring them to my basement? The disintegration circle I used to get rid of their bodies?

With each new piece of evidence, my heartbeat slows down from its frantic rhythm. That's right. I know HE and everything HE has given me is real. Joanna's only trying to screw with me, probably to distract me from… what was it that I was doing?

Shit. I think it had something to do with the graveyard. The woods. The cabin. But what did I need to do there?

I guess it doesn't matter yet. It'll come to me on the way there, I'm sure.

I give myself a light slap on my right cheek. My surroundings become sharper again. I need to stay alert.

I pace to the end of the road and enter the street I usually take to the store. The graveyard's gates are already in sight. Alright, I make it there --

The sign has changed. Instead of MASARA GRAVEYARD, it says…

HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING
TO KEEP FOOLING YOURSELF?

I quickly slip through the gates. I don’t wanna look at that any longer than I have to.

The graveyard is even prettier than last time thanks to the sunlight, specks of dust and pollen hovering in the air between the monuments, but I don’t have time to stop and enjoy the view. I head to the edge of the yard and enter the woods. I march through the mossy forest floor until I reach the actual path, then follow it further, flanked by prickly branches and bushes.

Now that I’m off the streets, I can breathe easy. It’s safer here. It has always felt safer in the woods. No cars, no people, just the trees and wildlife. Shade and silence.

My stomach grumbles. Huh. I guess I was too stressed before to realize I was hungry. When did I last eat? I know I ate in the morning, and well at that, before the psych appointment. But that wasn’t too long ago, was it? Maybe I'm burning food faster since I'm still recovering from the illness. No, wait, there was no illness, it was all Joanna. Gods, this is annoying. I better finish this fast so… wait, what was I supposed to do here?

Right, the cabin. And Michi. Something with Michi. Kill her? Wipe her memory? I mean, if I wipe her memory, she'll be like nothing ever happened, and if she told the police something before, they'll think now it was just her messing around. Because she's a kid and kids are weird and quirky. That's perfect for me. That's my plan.

And there's the cabin! She should be around here somewhere. I need to slow down my pace so I can catch her by surprise. I need stealth, especially this time now that she knows my aura's been suppressed. She won’t let herself be caught off-guard.

I glance around the opening, catching neither Michi nor anything surreal. She might be indoors. In that case, she’s already trapped if I go in. No need for stalking. But was there ever? I’ve already beaten her once in a chase. Though back then I had mental clarity on my side. Joanna wasn’t as… brave with the illusions back then… or was she? Did any of it happen? I mean, if I killed her, there’d be no reason for me to be here in the first place…

It doesn't matter. I'm going in.

I walk across the opening and place my hand on the rusty door handle. I stop.

I imagine her there, inside, utterly unprepared. I imagine myself busting through the door, startling her. Her terror only growing as she recognizes me. How I’ll pounce on her like a raikou before she can try anything. How I’ll dig my nails into her skin, feel the muscles underneath flex and relax as she struggles.

My heart pounds in elation. After all the bullshit these past few days, I’ll finally get to hunt again, to feel alive as I’m killing something else. Be what I really am.

Now, it’s time to claim my prize.

I shove the door open. I look for Michi, nothing else matters, but she’s not there. Not standing in the open, at least. She must be hiding, she must have heard me after all. Good! It’s more exciting that way.

I close the door behind me and drag the wooden bench beside the table in front, screech - now she won’t be able to escape, not without me noticing, at least. I check the smaller room on the right - no one there, no places to hide. She must be in the main room. Let’s see. Under the table? Nothing there. In the fireplace? Nothing there. That leaves… that pile of mattresses. I could see her fitting inside that pile, yes. She has to be there, curled up, praying she won’t be found…

I walk closer. Slowly. I want her to fear. Fear is the best seasoning. Hunger is a close second, and I’ve got both on my side. My heart flutters, my stomach writhes. Only seconds now…

I place my fingers on the edge of the mattress. Grasp it. This is it. Three, two, one…

I throw the mattress aside.

Nothing.

I strip more mattresses away. Still nothing. She’s not here? But I need… maybe she’s outside?

I rush out - no, I need to move the bench first, so fucking annoying, okay, there. I rip the door open and leap outside. I look around, but I can’t see her anywhere. Where is she? I need to find her! I need to kill her, eat her!

“Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-”

“Shut up!” I snap, spit flying out of my mouth. Gods. I hope that pidgey gets the message. I don’t need any distractions, any interruptions. I need to find Michi, I need to. But how am I gonna…

Joanna. Joanna knows where she is. They're always scheming together, scheming against me.

I bring my left palm up to my face. “Where is she?”

The skin is still smooth. Come on, respond. Respond, you bitch. Don't you dare go silent on me now.

A sting, a splitting wound. She's responding.

DON'T
YOU
REMEMBER?

Remember…? Don’t talk to me about remembering! You're the one fucking with my memory!

“Just tell me where she is!” More spit flies from my mouth, now foaming.

The palm is healed. Well? I'm waiting. Write! Do it already!

Finally! Words are forming…

SHE'S
RIGHT
HERE.

What?

“What the fuck do you --”

A forceful spasm in my stomach cuts me off. The surprise is nearly enough to topple me, but I stay on my feet.

I’d say that was caused by hunger, but something else is off. My stomach no longer feels hollow - on the contrary, it feels quite full. But not with food. It’s more like there’s a single, large mass. It’s heavy, clearly weighing me down. What is…

It just moved.

In fact, I think that spasm from before was actually…

The lump lurches, throwing me off balance again, and this time I can’t recover. I break my fall with my hands, wincing at the sharp gravel digging into my palms, and stay there on all fours.

Joanna’s words return to my mind and a horrible realization dawns on me.

No, it isn’t possible. She wouldn’t fit. Even if she did, she’d be long dead by now, from suffocation, overheating, the acids…

I place a hand on my abdomen in hopes to calm the commotion, but it only seems to make things worse. The mass begins to twitch, to expand. The walls of my stomach are stretching, stretching way too much. Air is squeezed out of my lungs as the mass pushes up against them.

“S-stop,” I wheeze, but it keeps going. I can’t reason with her. Maybe she can only be convinced through force…

I form a fist and jab it into my gut.

Something pokes up into my esophagus. A tidal wave of nausea washes over me, and I barely stop myself from collapsing. I cough, cough and retch, all the while I can feel it advancing, creeping up through my chest… is it her arm? Is she trying to reach the outside and grab something to pull herself out with? But the rest of her body won’t be able to fit through! Unless she's prepared to tear her way out...

I need to stop her. I need to make her go back down.

I cover my mouth and begin swallowing between my coughs, as fast and as many times as I’m able. I wish, I pray for her to begin descending, but she isn’t even slowing down. I think I need to give it up. I need to take in as much air as I can before I’m no longer able.

The sharp inhale finishes right as she breaks through, arriving in my mouth with the sour sting of vomit. I realize I can't move my head, her bones locking me to this position. I try swallowing again, but it's pointless. Her fingers brush against my tongue and I can feel - and taste - the stomach contents coating her digits. Disgusting as it is, it gives me an idea.

I open my mouth and shove my own fingers in, grabbing Michi’s. She flinches. I yank them towards the left, between my molars, and keep pulling until my own fingers are out of harm’s way.

Then I bite down. Hard.

A sharp whine reverberates in my chest. She tugs back, with her entire arm, bruising my insides, but I don’t let go. A taste of blood spreads through my mouth. It tastes bad. It tastes salty and metallic and like something I should get out of my mouth rather than swallow. It tastes the way blood tasted before HE made it wonderful.

The pressure in my lungs is growing. Pressure to expel the carbon dioxide before it poisons my blood. But can I let go yet? Will she really recede? I strengthen my bite - she needs to be convinced, convinced that I’ll only bite her again and again if she tries to come out. But my head is getting heavy --

Crunch.

A yelp, an eruption of blood. Her fingers retreating to my throat. But I didn’t let go. I’m still holding on to…

I spit it out. Her hand slides past the epiglottis. Air moves again. I wheeze out the buildup of stale air and wheeze in precious new air, but cough immediately, drops of blood and vomit having hitched a ride on the current. I wheeze and cough and wheeze and cough and spit and repeat for seconds on end while her arm gradually draws back the rest of the way. I finally catch my breath, collapse onto the gravel and roll onto my side. She’s become a single mass inside the stomach again. She’s shrinking. Thank the Gods, thank the Gods.

The temptation is great to simply keep my eyes closed and rest until all the nausea and aching left behind has gone, but there’s a noise. A crunching noise on the gravel, only a half-meter away.

I force my eyes open, trying to see past my tears. Something’s moving in the middle of the red-brown stain where I spat everything out. Arms shaking, I lift myself up onto my knees and squint.

It’s two severed fingers, bitten off at their joints. Crawling on their own.

I jerk back like a startled cat, scrambling away on the gravel. Disgusting, unnatural, wrong. I have to put an end to it. I need to stomp on those fuckers until they stop moving.

I get up, groaning from the strain on my weakened body, and keep my head down until I’m sure I can keep my balance. I look to the fingers -- they’re not there.

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.

I stagger after the fingers, following them to the edge of the opening. They slip into the woods between two spruces, the same spot as… she went through back then.

They must be heading for the murder scene. That’s actually someplace I need to visit in any case. I need to check if any evidence was left behind. I feel like I checked back then, but back then I didn’t know I had a ghost stuck in my brain that could…

Illusions, right. That whole stomach-exiting episode was one, and so are these floating fingertips. I think I already knew that on some level, but I just didn’t fully understand it. Like realizing I was in a dream without realizing I could choose to wake up or change my surroundings.

I should try to keep a hard-line stance. Only accept the things I can tell are real. Avoid getting caught up in any illusory tricks. Keep control of the situation in my hands, not Joanna’s.

After glancing around for anything else that would seem off and finding nothing, I enter the woods. The fingers wait for me a few meters ahead and start moving again once I approach. They’re leading me, it seems, but it’s not as if finding the way to the murder scene should be hard - as far as I remember, we ran in a straight line. Or, wait. I dragged her body to some other opening to dispose of it. I guess I’ll just follow along.

The trees and rocks that pass me by are vaguely familiar. Memories surface from the last time I saw them. Memories of thrill, pleasure. But they’re only bitter now that I remember how it all ended. I lost control. I killed without a plan. I was lucky to have it happen in the woods with no one around rather than, say, a supermarket, but its implications are no less worrying. And it couldn’t have been due to Joanna. If anything, she would’ve tried to protect Michi.

So the whole houndoom and pichu thing… was from my mind alone?

Oh, the fingers are slowing down. I notice a sparser part of the forest coming up on our left. The fingers take a turn towards it - that must be the opening.

I pick up my pace, hurrying after the fingers. As they keep slowing down, I’m nearly caught up by the time I reach the opening, but keep a meter or more of distance in case they start to… act up somehow. Like try to claw out my eyes. No, don’t give her any ideas.

The fingers float over to the center of the opening - the center of where my disintegration circle used to be, I believe - and finally stop. In a blink, whatever holds them up lets go, and they drop down to the gravel with a light crunch. Then there’s hissing. They begin to disintegrate. They’re turning into smoke, skin-colored mixed with red. The smoke dissipates in the air.

In a matter of seconds, all of it is gone.

I wait a bit longer by the edge of the opening. Just in case, I suppose. But as nothing else seems to be happening, I dare to walk to the center.

It’s clear to anyone that takes a closer look that the gravel’s been kicked around. I look for any patches where parts of the disintegration circle may have remained, but there are none. And I scrutinize each square centimeter for anything that could be an illusion. Still nothing.

I move on from the gravel to the trees and rocks and moss and other vegetation. I circle the nearby pines to make sure there are no carvings on their bark. There aren’t. I check the sky. No, that’s pointless. You can’t change the sky.

Well, I think that’s everything. No evidence left behind, no illusions. I’d say that’s a relief, but if there really is nothing, why would the fingers lead me here?

…Hmm. Maybe Joanna simply changed her mind. She may have had plans for some other elaborate illusion, but decided not to go through with it for some reason. Maybe she didn’t expect me to commit to this reality-checking thing so much. If she tried some illusion now, I’d be able to see through it - and not just that, but get better at spotting future illusions, too. It does make sense for her to forgo some petty torture scenario to save her skills for some situations that actually matter later on.

Well, if nothing is happening and I’m safe where I am, I can finally take some time to think. Figure out the current situation and what I should do next.

I sit down by the trunk of a nearby pine and start to recap.

Before I came here, I was at home. I had just recently made it there after the illusion of the apocalypse. After yelling at Abe a bit, I finally realized that I never succeeded in killing Joanna in her yamask form, that she was still in my head and causing all these weird hallucinations. I had the… fantastic idea of carving my own face off, but luckily I was interrupted by Abe's attempt to call the cops before I could go through with it. Then I heard sirens. I threatened Abe with a knife and told him not to tell anyone I'd been there… gods, I guess I'll just blame it on the ghost if I make it through this alright.

After that, I fled the house without a clear destination. Then I thought of Michi and how she might still be alive and… what did I want to do? I came here to do that. At the cabin, I wanted to kill her, but was that my original plan?

I try to remember, try to think about things, but suddenly my mind is just… all mush. Is it the illness? No, there never was any illness, only Joanna! Is this her doing, too?

Or… maybe it's just low blood sugar. I forgot how hungry I was. When was the last time I ate? Before the psych appointment? It feels like ages ago with all that's happened since, but I don't think it can be more than two hours. Then again, I did have that breakdown...

"Pi-pi-pi-pi!"

I flinch at the loudness of the call. That pidgey's very close by. With some looking, I find the mon on the branch of a small spruce about three meters away. It's looking right at me.

I guess it wants treats just like that one from a couple of days ago. Maybe it's the same one and it recognized me as the one that gave it some scratches before. Dammit, I should've just ignored it. Now I need to make it go away somehow. I won't be able to concentrate while it's around.

I get up and approach the pidgey. It only seems to get more excited.

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

"No, fuck you," I mutter. Seems like it's trying to impress me to earn itself more affection.

“Asshole!” it replies. Oh, it knows more than one thing. I wonder what else it knows? I guess I could stay and listen for a minute before shooing it away. I can’t deny that seeing such a fluffy little bird spout such vulgar phrases is somewhat humorous, and Gods know I could use some levity.

“What else do you know?” I ask the bird.

“Shit! Shit!”

I smirk. “Oh, that’s predictable. Don’t you have anything better?”

The pidgey stares at me with its black, beady eyes, head tilted. Then it opens its beak.

“Ichiro.”

I freeze.

“Ichiro Akai.”

How does it… how does it know my name?

“Pi-pi-pi-pi…”

“No, no, say it again,” I prompt the bird. I step closer and offer a hand. “I’ll scratch you. Come on.”

The bird looks at the hand, then me, then the hand, and flits onto it. Its toes wrap around my index finger. I don’t have gloves on this time, but I don’t care. Hygiene can wait, this is more important.

“Say it again,” I plead. “Ich’… Ich’…”

“Ichiro Akai,” it repeats.

“Good, good!” I smile and scratch the pidgey’s plumage, but inside, I’m horrified. The voice it’s trying to mimic… sounds like my own. “Say something more, please. Anything else you heard in that voice…”

The pidgey holds its stare. I notice how much my hand is trembling.

“Ichiro Akai killed me.”

The trembling gets worse.

“Ichiro Akai killed me,” it repeats. “Joanna Murata.”

My hand now shakes so much that the bird abandons it as a perch. It flits back to the spruce.

“No, no, don’t leave,” I whisper. I can’t let it leave. If it leaves, I won’t be able to kill it, and it’ll keep saying those words, those words Joanna must have used my mouth to say the last time I was here, while I was occupied by that… illusion of HIM. It’ll keep saying those words, and in time, someone will hear them, someone that knows Joanna’s family, and tell the cops and they’ll start looking into me and --

No. Wait.

I take a deep breath and exhale it out.

Remember what’s going on. Joanna is still in your head. This could just be another illusion. This bird might not even be real.

I study it closely, as closely as I can from this distance - but nothing seems to be off. That doesn’t mean its words have to be real, though. She could be making the sounds over something else.

“Say it again,” I ask the pidgey, offering a hand again. “Come on. I’ll scratch you again.”

It watches me with one eye. I wiggle a finger, signalling scratches. It flits back over, landing on my palm. Yes!

“Say it,” I whisper, ready to stop talking at any point to listen to its reply. “Come on. Ich’… Ich’…”

“Ichiro Akai.”

It sounded…

I don’t know how it sounded. How am I supposed to know what a real bird mimicking my name would sound like? Its beak sort of moved like how I’d imagine it to move, but I don’t know. It was so fast that I couldn’t possibly tell whether it was altered, either. Shit!

“Ichiro Akai,” the bird repeats, probably wondering where its reward is. I quickly give it a scratch. Whether or not the words are fake, I should get rid of this guy. Better safe than sorry.

Slowly, I bring over my left hand. The pidgey’s a bit apprehensive, but it calms down once I scratch its side with one finger. Side, moving slowly onto its back. I prepare to clamp my hands together. I just need to be sure --

“Ichiro Akai.”

That wasn’t this bird.

I look over my shoulder. Another pidgey has arrived at the opening.

“Ichiro Akai,” it repeats.

“Joanna Murata,” responds the pidgey in my hand. It flies off, joining the other one. No!

“Ichiro Akai,” says another voice - somewhere else in the opening.

The whole forest knows.

More voices join in, uniting in a cacophony of words and chirrups.

“Ichiro Akai!”

“Joanna Murata! Pi-pi-pi!”

“Ichiro Akai killed me! Pi-pi-pi prrrruuu.”

“Prrrruuu. Pi-pi-pi! Ichiro!”

My heart thumps in my throat. What the fuck do I do? There’s no way I can kill all of them!

“Jo-to-to!”

A pidgeotto? I turn around to --

I leap out of the bird's way just in time, dodging its extended talons. It pounds the air with its wings to regain the altitude it lost and flies up to a low, dead branch of a pine. But it's not going to perch for long - I can tell that much from its puffed up feathers and erected crest. It's mad. Must be protective of the pidgey, or just territorial...

I slip my hand inside my jacket and grab the knife I'd stashed in there. Right as I pull it out, the pidgeotto leaps into another charge. I shield my face with my arms while trying my best to point the blade the bird's way, but the bird simply swerves around the knife to swipe at my ear - fuck! I try to swipe back, but the pidgeotto's already too far. Dammit. It's barely perched on the opposite tree before it dives for me again. This bird's insane! But I've got my knife. I've got my knife, and it's only a matter of time before I land a decisive hit --

Something collides with the back of my hand, which drops the knife in startlement. A pidgey flutters back --

The pidgeotto screeches, talons out, heading for my face, I cover my eyes, it scratches and pecks the backs of my hands, fuck, fuck! I reach out and grab, I catch one foot, the pidgeotto bites but I fling it away! It hits the ground, screeches, but it gets up and leaps at my face and starts shredding my hands again, fuck, what's wrong with this fucking bird, it's like it's possessed, it needs a fucking exorc-

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!

"Exorcism," I whisper. Hearing it back feels so surreal, as if I hadn't thought of the word for years until I suddenly came across it again, shocked to still remember its meaning. Which is…

I can't remember. I know it has something to do with ghosts and getting rid of them, but everything else is a blur I can't make heads or tails of, even if I had to have known what it meant just moments ago when it popped into my head. This must be more of Joanna's doing. But as long as I can remember the word, I can find out its meaning through some other means… so I need to make sure I'll remember!

I snatch the knife off the ground. Exorcism. I clean its blade on my shirt. Exorcism. I raise my left palm up and bring the blade to the skin. Exorcism. I drive the tip in. Strings, yeah, too bad, live with it. I carve an E. Then an X. Then O, R…

What’s the word I’m writing, again? Exor... cism. That’s it. Nice try, Joanna. I carve the rest on another row - C, I, S, M.

There. EXORCISM. Doubt I’ll forget it’s there, and if I do, the pain will quickly remind me.

Gods! Yes! Finally, something goes right! There really is still hope. There’s still hope that I’ll get rid of this mental tumor and live to tell the tale. Or keep quiet about it, rather. If the cops haven’t found out the truth by now, I have to make sure not to tell a soul about any of this. If they have found out the truth… well, it’s something I’m gonna have to deal with then. Right now, getting Joanna out of my head is top priority.

Sighing in relief, I tuck the knife back inside my jacket. There’s blood on it, but it’s my own. It’s no crime to bleed.

I take a moment just to breathe. Listen to my surroundings. Rustling trees, faraway traffic… no pidgey.

I look around, and indeed, I see no pidgey. I wonder if they were part of the illusion. That first pidgey did seem real when I checked it, but I couldn’t tell if its words were. Then I got distracted by all the other ones and the rabid pidgeotto… I guess I’m gonna have to return here after Joanna’s gone to check.

As for the cops… I guess I’m gonna have to play it safe and just assume there are people after me. Still, I have to leave these woods to get the information I need. The best place for that would be the library. Thank the Gods it’s not far from here. I should be able to slip in and read what I need without alerting any cops. I just have to be careful. Not just about cops, but Joanna’s illusions, too. Gods. Things will be so much easier once she's gone.

Feeling surprisingly confident, I leave the opening and begin walking back the way I came.

Somewhere, a pidgey chirps.

---​

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, here for Catnip, and here covering the Alternate Prologue and Chapter 1 to dip my toes into Hunter Haunted. I’ll admit, going into this story, I was very skeptical that I’d enjoy it from what I’ve heard about the premise. But eh, I’m no stranger to stories with graphic violence in this fandom, so I’ll go in with an open mind.

Alright, straight into things:

Prologue (Alternate)

Spoiler: Line-by-Line

A gentle breeze blows through the streets of the neighborhood.

The trees and bushes sway gently in this wind, showing off their emerging leaves or the needles that braved through the winter. Simple little houses flank the asphalt roads, their pastel walls near blinding in the strong sunlight. Only a few puffy clouds here and there obscure the wide, azure sky. A faraway pidgey twitters - judging by its familiar song, a yellow-breasted one.

The streets and yards seem devoid of people. No humans, no mon. Makes sense - most have work or school at this hour. That means the only one out on this sunny April morning is me.

I love getting away with murder.

Whelp, four paragraphs in and this story’s going places already. I like the juxtaposition between this boring “everytown” description, and then suddenly “perfect hunting grounds”. It’s a chilling and effective way of setting the tone to expect going forward for your audience.

Alright, that's enough for a break. I lift up the handles of the wheelbarrow and continue pushing. The smell from the garbage bag nested within is starting to leak… but luckily the outdoor air is fresh and fast to circulate.

I take a turn, and there it is, the entrance to the woods. The escape from all prying eyes. Not that there are any. And not that I wouldn't have an explanation ready. What's in the bag? Why, green waste, of course. I'm dumping it in the woods, returning it to nature. Don’t want to pile it all on the yard to be an eyesore and bug hive. For the good of the neighborhood, you know? The community. My fellow men. And mon. I’m socially conscious, you see.

Yeah, okay there. I don’t believe you for a moment when you just went on about getting away with murder.

And if they still remained suspicious, I’d just make them socially unconscious. Ha! No, it wasn’t that funny.

I clear my throat and enter the woods. Blotches of light, filtered through the branches of spruces and pines above, dance on the floor of dirt and detritus. More and more birds join the choir of chirps and whistles, proclaiming their territory or wishes for a mate. I can't possibly see how someone could live without immediate access to a place like this. But, well, it's become apparent over the years that there's a lot of things I don't understand about people.

Now, I’m already spoiled to the fact that this story follows a very different take on Red, but that internal thought process actually wouldn’t feel that far off from the canonical character’s.

My arms are starting to get tired again… but the spot isn't that far anymore. I can make it there without another break. After that, all I have to do is make the evidence disappear, and then I can make the trip back at my own pace. So just hang in there…

Whelp, guess he wasn’t kidding about getting away with murder there.

"Kraw!"

Oh, not a murkrow.

With a shuffling of feathers, a black bird lands in my path. It stares at the bag with hungry eyes.

Yes, yes, I know you can smell it and it’s probably a fantastic fragrance for a scavenger like you. I have no ideological opposition to giving you a piece, but in practice, it’d mean opening up this stinky thing and exposing myself to all kinds of risks. What if a little civilized growlithe was roaming around in these woods, caught the stench and decided to follow it? Then I’d have a witness to worry about. I probably wouldn’t even be able to kill it, being a fragile, flammable human. And then I’d be caught because of a little puppy. A little puppy would be the one to cancel Judgment Day. I’m not letting that happen.

This sounds like a pretty good argument to invest in a car to dispose your remains out in the boonies instead of right outside of a subdivision, just saying. At least that way you wouldn’t need to care about Pokémon coming across your dismembered corpses.

“Kraw!”

What's Judgment Day, you ask? Well, when an ancient god of chaos likes a priest of HIS very much, HE leaves HIS stony fossil home and incarnates in the body of the priest, morphing him into a being above all others. The god-imbued priest, with his new omnipotence, will then rebuild the Helixian kingdom and reshape the world into its rightful state, where the strong roam and hunt the weak as they please, no longer shackled by a civilization built by cowards.

Right. This is a TPP-based story. I kinda fell off the wagon there before TPP really built out its mythos, though I suppose being the plaything of an eldritch entity is a decent enough map to the premise.

Now, as it happens, I've had the great honor and joy of being chosen as that priest. I'm only waiting for the moment HE declares HE has gathered enough strength for the transition proper. HE already took my body on a test run today, you know. It may have led to at least a kilo of raw flesh being stuffed into my stomach, but I'm not that bothered about it. HE wouldn't let any microbes ruin my body now after three years of training me.

Not that any of it concerns you. Get out of the way.

How on earth are you able to move about without a stomachache when you stuffed a kilo of anything in your stomach. Let alone a kilo of human flesh?

The murkrow flits off the path to avoid the approaching wheel of the cart, but to my annoyance, the bird sticks around. In fact, it seems to be following me.

… It’s a crow, Red. What did you think it was going to do when you brought a dead body right past it?

I set down the wheelbarrow and leap at the murkrow. It scrambles into flight. Good riddance.

I resume my pushing -- oh for fuck's sake! The crafty corvid only flew a circle. Now it's landed on the cart itself. I shoo it with my hands... which is of course pointless, as the bird only flies back each time. Dammit. I should just hurry to the dropoff spot…

… Have you ever considered just using a tub full of acid for this, Red? Seems like a much less dangerous way of pulling the deed off. Though I suppose being controlled by a Twitch chat would get in the way of rational decision making.

I speed up my pace. This makes for a bumpier ride for the bird, but it doesn't seem deterred - it keeps pecking and tugging at the bag, rustling the plastic. Until finally… pop.

That lights a fire under my feet. Unfortunately, I'm already going as fast as I can while making sure any stray roots can't tip the cart over, so all I can do is suffer the heat under my soles. But the place is close now, only a little more, I can already see it. The stench of the corpse reaches my nostrils, fuck, now it's out there, but now I enter the opening and here I go!

I can’t tell if this is supposed to be Red’s own decision-making here, or if he’s being puppeteered. If it’s his own, he’s definitely taking a lot more risks than he needs to with his choice of evidence disposal here.

I shove the cart forwards at a right-leaning angle, startling the murkrow into flight. As planned, the cart tips over and stops at the center of the gravelly opening. The garbage bag falls out.

I scan the area for any fallen branches and soon find one not far off. I snatch it into my hands and begin dragging its tip across the ground. The murkrow watches from its perch as I draw the circle, until it realizes I’m too busy to bother with it and dives into the center to rip a new hole in the bag and bob for scraps of meat. Let it. I’m almost done.

Boy it’s sure a good thing that you’re doing this right outside a subdivision, huh? Though then again, considering how infamously apathetic people in Pokémon settings are about danger until it smashes them in the face… ^^;

The base circle is complete, now for the details. Line there, curve there, circle there. Is it done? I analyze the pattern once more. Yes, it’s finished.

I leap to the wheelbarrow and heave it out of the circle. It scares away the bird, but only for a moment, as it returns immediately once I rush back to front of the pattern. Okay, the cart’s out. Only the activation remains.

I unsheathe my knife. The murkrow pulls its head out of the bag to give a quick, suspicious glance. No, it's not for you. You'll see.

Oh, so there was a reason for Red to drag these remains out in a fashion that he was literally worrying about exposing him like 8 paragraphs ago. I kinda wonder if it’d have made sense to hint a bit more at the ritual side of these murders a bit more prior to this point, but eh. It suffices.

I take the blade to my little finger and slide it across the skin. I flinch and I hate that I flinch, I shouldn't feel a thing from cuts this small anymore after what I've been through… but I suppose it doesn't matter as long as I can take the pain without fear. Either way, I've drawn blood as needed, and the red fluid is gathering, dripping… and with a small flick, a droplet detaches from the finger. It falls right where it's supposed to - inside the little circle at the edge of the ring.

The new stain on the gravel glitters. Then its red begins to glow. Then the light expands.

I step back for safety, watching the light creep along the edges of the circle and trace the grooves of each detail on the way. The murkrow throws glances at the glowing pattern, perplexed. Is it going to flee? Is it smart enough to realize this is something it should get away from? Is it greedy enough to ignore it?

I… somehow doubt the bird’s going to put two and two together in time, but we’ll see quickly, I guess.

Just before the advancing lights meet at the other end of the circle, something clicks in the bird's brain. It flaps its wings frantically, stumbling into the air, the circle's edge as its destination. Another red glow envelops everything within the circle, murkrow included. It brightens, and...

Flash.

The lights are gone. The bag is gone. The pattern in the gravel has returned to being a simple drawing. The wheelbarrow rests next to it, tipped over. There's nothing else in the opening but me.

And the murkrow, of course, staring at its newly trimmed tail.

Oh, so the Murkrow did make it after all.

Though I suppose that’s a good enough explanation as any to explain why Red isn’t going the “boring but practical” route for getting rid of his corpses. He needs them for these feeding rituals or whatever they are.

"You're lucky you're alive, you know," I remark.

It glares at me, caws with spite and flies off into the trees. Oh well. Some folks just can't appreciate their luck. Hope it isn’t getting its friends on me… I’m not so good with those kinds of murders.

Corvids in general are kinda infamously spiteful and prone to grudges. So… yeah, good luck with that one. ^^;

With the needled end of the branch, I sweep at the gravel, erasing the grooves little by little. While no one who happened to find this would know what it was for, it's still better to keep the pattern a secret. Someone might try to replicate it and accidentally set it off with a papercut or something - and then the whole world would be sniffing for tracks to learn more about this strange new kind of magic. I couldn't use it anymore in fear of getting caught, and that would make these murders a lot riskier to pull off unnoticed.

… Wait, so this wasn’t needed for a reason other than body disposal? Then why aren’t you using the bathtub of acid route if this is your own decision-making here?

I finish erasing the pattern. The gravel looks disturbed where the circle used to lie, but it’s nothing that couldn’t have been caused by just a group of children playing. I toss away the branch, right the wheelbarrow and begin pushing it back the way I came, not a speck of worry on my mind.

My tracks are clear. There's nothing left of the victim outside of the blood washed down the drain and the flesh within my digestive tract, and I doubt they’re going to look through my sewage or cut my belly open to get what’s inside. And, well, even if they catch on to me… who’s to say they can do it before I ascend?

… How is there not a set of footprints and wheelbarrow tracks left behind from all of this? Or is Red clearing those on his way back? .-.

Though I suppose there’s still a third piece of evidence. Myself. While I do have the means to wipe my own memories of this incident, I shouldn’t go messing around with my brain. It needs to be in mint condition for HIM. Not to mention the thought of my own brain malfunctioning is… terrifying.

Hon, I’m pretty sure your brain is already malfunctioning here. Especially since this is a TPP-based story. ^^;

Besides, these memories are ones I’d really like to keep. I want to remember how it felt realizing HE had taken over my body, and I want to remember the preparation that had led to that wonderful moment. Perhaps at the time it had been just like any previous hunt, but in retrospect, it seems so much more special. Walking the streets of Viridian, looking for a suitable target. Finding and choosing her. Stalking to find out her daily rhythm, her name. Striking at the precise right moment. Transporting her to my basement with the help of another spell. Washing her, fastening her to the board, waiting for her to wake up and then seeing that terror on her face...

She is the one that gave me all this satisfaction. Maybe I should thank her.

I smirk. Nah. She’s dead.

Joanna is dead.

Well, that’s a lot of abilities that are coming out in short order. So whatever voodoo Red has going on allows him to basically teleport, huh? I do have to wonder if it’d have made more sense to bring these up in steady drips over the course of the prologue, though there’s something to be said about the

factor of just throwing everything out in sharp relief at the end like this.

Chapter 1

Spoiler: Line-by-Line

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.

Just how old-timey is Red anyways if he’s still using an honest to goodness alarm clock anyways? :V

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

Alright.

I roll over and tap the button on the clock. Its buzzing gone, the quieter soundscape of the outside reaches my brain. Winds. Distant traffic. Birdsong. Nothing new there.

I draw my hand back to myself and tuck it near my chest. It’s cold out there. Again.

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.

While you’re a ritual serial killer? I didn’t know it was even possible to juggle all of that on top of-

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

Yeah, that’s more along the lines of what I was expecting.

Instead, I spend my days at home, trying my best to pass the time. Exercising. Watching TV. Doing crosswords. Going on walks. Cooking. Hunting. I like the last one best, but it's also the most difficult and illegal, so it's more of a rare treat.

I’m guessing that those are primarily not Pokémon he’s talking about there.

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.

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.

… How on earth has he managed to keep all this hidden from them? Or have they figured out and just not intervened for whatever reason? .-.

Anyway... it's alright, actually, all of this. Because it's all temporary. Everything will change once HE is ready, and that time will be soon. The ascension is right behind the corner. HIS taking me over proves that. HE just needs to… wait a little longer, to gather HIS strength. I just need to wait a little longer.

Of course, I’ve been telling myself that for a few weeks now…

You do realize that eldritch entities don’t necessarily have human conceptions of “short times”, right Red?

Steps downstairs. Sounds like Abe. I guess I should get up too.

Or should I? There's nothing to do, remember?

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?

I’m presuming given the premise of the story that ‘HIM’ is Lord Helix, though I have to wonder if it makes sense to withhold some hints as to this entity to this extent this deep into things. Since… I admittedly am not sure if I’d know what was going on in this story without reading the summary blurb and going in with foreknowledge about the story’s general premise.

Granted, that might be a deliberate choice writing-wise, but that wasn’t quite clear to me if so.

I get up without delay. Gods, it's cold without the blanket… more reason to get through the routine sooner, I suppose. I'll get to put on some proper clothes.

With a sigh, I leave my room behind.

You know, you could invest in a space heater, just saying. :V

I stare at the towel I've just hung on the drying rack. Strands of damp black hair dangle before my eyes, ever so slightly trembling.

The last part of my morning routine has finished, and now I've entered the wasteland once again.

Should I even go upstairs? Should I challenge myself to spend all day in the basement instead? Could be fun, in some kind of way. I could use that time to work more on that Helixian textbook. Even if I know it's completely useless, as I can't show it to anyone pre-ascension, and post-ascension I'd be able to just will the information into the brains of anyone I wanted…

Maybe I should pay HIM a visit instead.

I mean, it’d certainly be handy as readers for getting a grounding on what’s going on if coming in cold-

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.

Alas, not yet, it seems. Though looks like my initial instinct was right and the murders did have ritual purpose after all.

Speaking of… the two mon are probably up by now, getting ready for school and work. I should go upstairs and see them. Not going would be avoiding them, and avoiding is a sign of cowardice. I need to face them, face my weakness. It's the only way to overcome it.

Determined, I climb the stairs. I grab the handle of the door at the end…

They're talking. Fonz is walking around, his claws clacking against the wooden floor.

Stop hesitating. You have to do this.

Huh, so Pokémon can have jobs and the like in human society in this setting. I’ll file that one away for the future.

I force the handle down and step through the door. Before anything else, I decide to sit down at the kitchen table. I should at least get to do this in a well-supported position.

Okay. Time to take the plunge. I pry my gaze off the table and finally direct it at the nidoking in the living room.

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.

… Wait, so is Fonz the Nidoking? I’m assuming so since he’s the only one of the two with anything approaching claws. But it might make sense to more explicitly beat it over your readers’ heads there.

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.

Oh, so HIM is Lord Helix… even if I still think that this ought to be explicitly communicated somehow.

Having gathered his and the omanyte’s bags, Fonz heads for the door. Almost over, thank the Gods. He looks over here and so does… the omanyte, and they wave and say goodbye. With the strength of a mindless reflex, I manage to raise my hand back. And then - they’re gone.

Oh Gods. I let go of my breath and lean onto my elbows. I release my heart from its chokehold. That was worse than usual… again. And here I thought I was actually making progress.

Is it the pronouns? Did I have it right the first time? Are they just a needless song and dance that in the end don’t affect anything, or are they really steering my psyche in the right direction?

I’ll admit that I don’t really have an idea of what’s going on here. Can’t tell if that’s a deliberate thing for readers or if you’re meant to have some degree of knowledge of the first TPP playthrough going into this story.

The bathroom door opens. A familiar boy of shaggy brown hair and skin much darker than mine walks out. I straighten my back as I don’t want him to start saying anything. Though now he’s looking straight at me with those dark, glass-shielded eyes of his. Is he gonna bring it up?

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

Remind… huh?

“Today’s your psych appointment.”

...Oh.

Well a fat lot of good those are doing considering Red’s present hobbies here. o3o;;

“Remember?” he continues. “The one we reserved two weeks --”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I’m gonna come pick you up with a taxi at ten to three. Be at home and ready then, okay?”

inb4 he skips out to go “hunting” beforehand.

Well… I’m not head over heels about getting my sanity questioned by some quack, but agreeing to see a shrink was clearly the only way to get Abe to shut up about it. Not to mention, giving a good performance will get me listed in the system as a completely normal and non-dangerous human being. And, of course, anything out of the ordinary is exciting by now, so goddamn it, sign me the fuck up.

Huh. Didn’t peg this Red as being an adrenaline junkie / in search of things to bust his boredom and apathy, though I suppose that it’d track if you’re doing ritual murders right under the noses of your roommates.

“Yeah, I’ll be here,” I say.

Abe’s eyes adopt a rare sternness. “Do you promise? You have to go.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll go.” Gods, it’s like he’s calling me a ticking time bomb to my face. I guess that at least means he’s grown some guts.

… Wait, how has Red managed to keep his antics hidden from someone who lives under the same roof as him and has doubts about his mental wellness? .-.

“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.”

He nods with a smile and hoists up his backpack, becoming the striking image of a bipedal bulbasaur. He opens the front door. “Ten to three, alright? Be here then.”

“Yep.”

He slips through, and so I’m left alone.

… I can’t tell if that’s supposed to literally be turning into a bipedal Bulbasaur or if it’s meant to be a visual comparison. You might want to come down harder one way or another as to intent, since I thought that Abe was human from his description but now I’m not sure.

Sighing, I get up. Might as well take that grocery trip right away.

I gather everything I need - grocery list off the microwave, my old backpack from its corner in the living room, house keys from the hall and my trusty knife from my room upstairs. Well, I guess I don’t need the knife, this town being the idyllic little paradise it is and wild ursas being a rarity, but it’s the only part of my true self I can actually show in public. The airholes in my mareepskin disguise.

So basically, it’s the one thing that’s keeping him from blatantly exploding in front of the surrounding town. That’s certainly a ‘comforting’ thought.

And with that, I leave the house. Welcoming me to the outside is a cold, gray sky. Right.

I forgot this was just another day.

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.

A gust of cold wind dives down my collar. Shuddering, I zip my hoodie rest of the way up. It seems this weather hates me back as well.

I take it that Red isn’t a winter person from that last paragraph. A little surprising given the hunter motifs he has going on with him, since some predatory creatures like wolves actually perform better in their hunts during cold months.

Under its mocking gaze, I march on. Past the high school, library, hospital, graveyard, each at a glacial pace… until finally, I see a familiar yellow peek over the roadside pines - the supermarket’s sign. A little way more, and there’s the parking lot, not much longer now…

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.

… You know, aside from the whole ‘cannibalistic serial ritual killer’ thing, this Red’s thought process actually wouldn’t faze me all that much if elements like this were dropped onto a depiction of a more standard Red. Since… yeah, Red in canon has always given off serious ‘hermit / introvert’ vibes.

Alright. Finally, some warmth. Color, even, though unnatural. Hundreds of cans, cartons, boxes and other packages nest in the shelves across the gates and checkouts. Like birds of artificial feather, the products proudly present their plumages in hopes of enticing buyers. If they could squawk as well, it’d be a cacophony.

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…

This thought process explains a lot about how this guy got into ritual murders for his eldrich god. Since… yeah, you kinda need some level of disconnection from humanity in order to operate like that.

Let’s get this over with. I walk through the gates, grab a basket and begin to hunt down the items of the grocery list. By now I know where to find them all, but the sections I don’t visit are still a mystery to me. They can remain as such. I don’t really care.

With each addition, the basket becomes heavier, until there’s only one item left. It’s written in a much shakier, scrawlier way. Given that and what it says, I know who wrote it.

It’s a request from m- the omanyte. He -- it would like some shrimp. I walk to the aquatic aisle, the shelf stacked with cans of the product in question. There’s the brand He -- it, it likes. Then there’s the brand it hates.

Slipping up on separating that Omanyte from Lord Helix again already, I see. :V

Should I pick the bad brand? Would that be a good way to show I don’t care about the mon? No - wouldn’t that mean I do care, if I care enough to pick the wrong one on purpose? But if I pick the good brand, I’d feel like I did it because I didn’t have the heart to pick the bad one, that I was weak. But is it really weakness? It’s what I’m used to doing, it’s normal. And it’s not like the good brand even costs any more than the bad one.

I can see Red’s a ‘quality’ teammate there if this is his thought process to his on Pokémon.

No, it is weakness. If I make the omanyte happy, I’ll just want to make it happy again and again. I’ll lapse back to my old ways and fail to do as HE ordered, and then...

But imagine it. Imagine His disappointment, heartbreak, when the can’s pulled out of the bag and He --

It. It. It!

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

… Have you ever considered having a Helix A and Helix 1 as disambiguation, Red? o<o

The Bringer cannot love.

Shut up! I’ve had enough of this. I don’t want to waste time thinking about anything related to that mon anymore. I’ll take a third, new brand. It costs more, but fuck it. It’s only money. I shove the can into the basket and head for the checkouts.

Goddamn it, it seems all the lines are just as long. I guess I’ll just pick the closest. Though now I see that the tired, graying woman in front of me seems to have a full cart. Great.

Bruh, just gawk at your phone or something to kill time. Maybe plan out your next hunt or something.

At a snorlax’s pace, the line slouches onward. Products get dumped on the conveyor belt, picked up by the cashier, read for their bar codes, the reader beeps, the cashier places the item on the other side, then she grabs the next, so on, yawn…

A wailing noise pierces the air. What? What is that, a siren? No - it’s a baby, a few checkouts over. And it is loud. Gods, my ears…!

I glance at the other people around me. They, too, wince every time the screaming surges in volume. But nothing more. They just stand and take it. And it just keeps going! I really can’t stress enough how horrible this is. This screech could put a victreebel to shame!

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.

… Pretty sure that’s a sign you’re never going to have kids, Red. ^^;

No, it’s okay. My turn is coming up. I can already start placing my items onto the conveyor. Look, look, there they go. Maybe I have to wait a few seconds every now and then so that more space clears up, but I’m advancing. Time is passing. And now the woman in front of me is already paying. She leaves to pack, it’s my turn. See, everything’s okay. All I have to do now is to wait for my items to scroll past…

But how could I?

How could I let this go?

These people… they so clearly want that screaming to stop, and yet they refuse to act. Why? Because they’re worried they’ll make a scene. Be part of the scene already happening. Get disapproving glances thrown their way. Stick out from the group. Show some kind of individuality, free thought, free action! It’s terrifying to them to look bad for just a moment!

I mean, it’s also a baby, so it’s not exactly socially acceptable to hold it to the same standards as a human with fully formed cognition? Not that Red would understand that as someone who by his own admission doesn’t understand humans.

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!

They should be taught to fear again. And I… I should be the one to teach them.

No, I have to teach them. It’s my duty. I’m the only one who understands. The only one with a knife, the only one with the power. Yes, I should be the predator to rid the ecosystem of these pathetic slobs. The fearow to dive into this swarm of fat rattata and impale them with its beak and talons.

My fingers have already gotten the message. They stroke the smooth, wooden hilt of my excellent knife, caress it. These people might all think I have this for self-defense alone, but oh, no, no, no. This is my fang, my claw, and it’s itching for flesh to wrap around its blade.

>dat moment when you’re fantasizing to yourself about committing a mass stabbing in the checkout line of a grocery store
>in a setting where literal ankle biters stomp around with housecats that can casually torch patios

Yeah, somehow that doesn’t strike me as a good idea, Red.

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.

Unless this is a setting where Pokémon training is significantly less widespread than in canon, that sounds more like a recipe to get set on fire by the security guard’s Growlithe, just saying. ^^;

Yes. Yes. This is what I was meant to do. I was meant to cease these maggots’ lives, turn their mundane into massacre, strike when they thought they were safe. I’ll kill and keep killing until only two remain. That accursed infant and its mother. I’ll trap them into a corner. The woman will cry, scream, clutch her child and beg for mercy. ‘Please! At least spare my baby!’ She’ll pray for me to feel pity. I’ll only smile, approaching. Tears and snot will stream down her distorted, bawling face. Oh, Gods, why? she thinks. Why did it have to be me, today, in a supermarket, in such a gruesome, terrifying way? Why did my child have to be with me? How does something as awful as this happen? The only thing I’ll be wondering is if an infant’s flesh will taste any different from an adult’s.

Well, that’s certainly a thought process there. I’m starting to get doubts that you’ll make it through that visit to the shrink that Abe booked for you.

“Thirty-seven, forty-nine.”

Hm? It’s the cashier, blonde, deep green uniform, looking at me with her big blue eyes. Shit. How will I kill her? I don’t have the element of surprise anymore. Do I just go for it? Pull out my knife and stab her in the throat?

“Is there a problem?”

Cashier: “... Sir, this is a grocery store. Are you going to pay, or what?”

…

“No. How much was it?”

“$37.49.”

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.

Red: “... Why am I doing this again instead of just going Chop City on everybody?” >_>;
Cashier: “Sir, I’m right here listening to you.” >:|

The baby's wailing is gone. It probably stopped a while ago. All that remains is the normal background noise of the store. It's like nothing else had been there at all.

Items packed, I zip the bag and walk away from the checkout. Some steps later, I finally allow my brain to process what happened.

That was close. Way too close. I was millimeters away from making that fantasy real. Had it not been for that miraculous moment of sensibility, I would've thrown away my entire future... if it wasn't theologically incorrect, I'd say HE was looking out for me.

Yeah, having a weak barrier between wish and reality tends to cause moments like those. Especially since I could think of a number of ways your stabbing spree would’ve come to a screeching, terminal halt considering your setting.

Gods, just… how could I lose all my rational thought like that? How did I not play that scenario to the end? Obviously I would've been shot, put down like a rabid animal, and then I would've been dead! Dead, dead, life over. No body for my soul, no brain to think with. Only the void. What is the void like? No one knows. Not even HE knows. Perhaps not even the creator. Terrifying. And that's why it's important I don't let that happen to myself, why I should become the Bringer and ascend to divinity. Don't forget that.

Oh, so Red does acknowledge that reality would’ve ensued fast and hard had he just gone ahead and started stabbing randos in the store. It’s a bit weird to see someone seesaw between a firm and a loose grasp on reality like this, though if there’s one thing that’s been settled by this point of the story, it’s that this Red is… screwloose, to say the least.

Alright, enough scolding. I take a deep breath. With the exhale, I force out as much stress from my body as I can. Unfortunately, it's not much. But at least I get to go home now…

Wait. There's a commotion by the exit. Seems like a bunch of people are showing all passersby some pieces of paper… dammit, I bet they're activists or something. I guess the other people share my annoyance given none seem to stick around for longer than a second before shaking their heads and moving on.

I don't want to risk snapping for real, so the secondary exit it is. I walk across the store to reach it and slip out. No one seems to be around, good --

"Excuse me, sir?"

Whelp, so much for that brilliant plan.

Shit! I couldn't see that guy behind the pillar, and now he's stepped out to block my path. But this is also a free country, so I can just tell him to fuck off and be on my…

He raises the paper in his hand. The picture on it freezes me.

"Have you seen this woman?"

Against all odds - yes, yes I have.

In fact, I was the last person to ever see her.

… Probably don’t want to tell the guy that, just saying. ^^;

I compare her face to the man's. There's an undeniable resemblance. Were you to stretch her out a bit, strengthen her jawline and stamp a permanent dopey expression on her face, you'd get this guy.

Before I've realized the importance of self-preservation over curiosity, I've let a question fly. "Who is she?"

"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.

Well, that got dark quickly.

I almost ask why they're looking here and not in Viridian where she lived, but remember swiftly that I don't want to go to jail. They probably have looked in Viridian, anyway, but why come to Pallet? Does the family live here? Will the investigation take place in this town? Shit…

"So, um, have you seen her?" he asks.

It's time to cut this confrontation here. "Sorry, no." Wow, both words were lies.

Something breaks in the man's dark eyes. It lights a little something in mine. Not expected, but not surprising.

"Alright, well, if you do, please call the police and let them know, okay?"

"Yeah, I will."

"Thanks."

With a nod, I step past him and resume my journey back home.

Huh. That was unexpected. I'd killed seven people before this, but I never bumped into any relatives of theirs. Should I consider this a momentous occasion? Should I have reveled in it more? It was a pretty great setup - such dramatic irony. Oh, please, mister Houndoom, won't you tell me where my seven little kids went…

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

I mean, you could try not tempting the universe to mess with you like that.

I slip between the spruces at the edge of the parking lot and enter the forested path beside the graveyard. The wind stops. Finally, shelter… from both weather and people.

Walking onwards, my eyes stay stuck to the bench next to the graveyard's gates. The closer I get, the more I want to sit down. But I'd just get home later...

Eh, you know what, I'm not in a hurry, and I could use the improvement to my mood. I pace faster to reach the bench, take off my backpack and sit down.

… Does he have prior victims buried here or something? Since I’m not sure if I follow how this would be a mood-lifter. .-.

I sigh from the relief in my shoulders and legs and lean back. The old dark wood of the bench is cool, but comfortable enough. I look over my shoulder to let my eyes rest on the sight of the graveyard itself.

Graveyards are always nice. Everything about them is designed to be tranquil. Sturdy stone monuments plant to the ground in rows and columns, some simpler and less ornate than others. Engraved on their surfaces are names and the occasional aphorism. Flowers at the graves dot the scene's otherwise mild palette with vivid reds, yellows, purples and whites. The natural vegetation is much more modest - soft moss and short, prickly grass grow at the edges of the tombs and cobblestone paths.

Oh. I guess that would explain the mood-lifter. And as someone who doesn’t ‘get’ people… yeah, I can kinda see how he got to this conclusion.

To think this silent, beautiful yard conceals the ashes and bones of dozens of burnt corpses within…

This is where they all end up. Well, not in this particular graveyard, but dead nonetheless. They'll all perish - maybe of old age, maybe of disease, maybe in an accident, maybe in the hands of someone like me.

They won't make a difference, and even if they do, they'll still die. And what matters to the person after that? Nothing. They're dead, like everyone else will end up being.

Everyone except me.

Aha, so we have (one of) the motivations for Red to want to awaken his god there.

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.

Either way, they’re still okay with it. How? Is it ignorance? Apathy? Have they not fully realized it? I know how weak they are - they wouldn't be strong enough to feign peace of mind in face of inevitable doom. Yet I’ve never seen anyone on the street break down into tears, cry at the heavens, curse their gods for creating this stage of never-ending anguish.

If life is such pain, how can they be happy?

Yeesh, this guy’s Mr. ‘Accentuate the Negative’ here, I see.

A rustling pulls me out of my thoughts. A mon?

It comes from the row of bushes at the edge of the graveyard. As soon as I pinpoint the leaves that move, the creature slips back into hiding. I only got a glimpse, but what I saw was… golden?

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...

Quietly but wasting no time, I stand up and get my backpack. I enter the graveyard gates and sneak along the fence, then the bushes. A meter or two away from the spot I saw the creature in, I slow down.

Whatever it ends up being, it might get startled and attack. I unsheathe my knife and hold it in front of me, then slowly, slowly circle the bush to see…

Nothing. Oh. That's disappointing.

Narrator: “It’s not nothing.”

Wait, at the edge of my sight! Another glint - and it's immediately gone. Disappeared behind that pine tree.

This thing is quick… and it makes no noise when it moves. It has to be a magnemite. Nothing else around here could be golden and float. Except maybe staryu, but why would one come out so far from the sea…?

I cross from the yard into the forest proper and hide behind a tree of my own. After a few eventless seconds, I sneak to a tree even closer to the creature's presumed hiding spot. Motionless, I stay in wait, keeping my eyes out for anything golden. Or anything at all moving independently from the wind.

Something. Something's emerging.

A golden edge peeks out from behind the pine’s trunk. Come on, come out. More floats out. Wait… that's not a sphere. It's a… it's like a concave oval. With eye holes. A mask from behind?

Aha, now we get to the ‘Haunted’ part of the title. This must be the Yamask from the summary.

It floats in midair, supported by no limbs or wings. It seems to move with conscious intent, but no clear destination. It seems confused. That makes two of us.

Just what is it? Where did it come from? What's its purpose? Is it dangerous?

I might get somewhat closer to knowing the answers if I saw its other side. But it doesn't want to turn on its own, it seems. Some encouragement is in order…

Slowly, I crouch to pick up a piece of gravel. I pick a direction - towards the bushes, they'll make more noise - and chuck the little rock. It lands in the bush, shuffling the leaves sharply. The mask quickly turns around --

No.

There's no way.

I feel as if there ought to be some extra details dropped in as to how things are clicking for Red that this Yamask is Joanna there, but otherwise, it’s a nice and suspenseful note to end things on for the chapter.

Alright, for my overall thoughts…

As for the story as a whole, it’s not quite my cup of tea since I’m not exactly the type to see Red as the sort of character to evolve into a serial killer, but I can’t say that it doesn’t have a lot of obvious effort put into it. And the story provides a fascinating, if disquieting look into the mind of a character who isn’t all there. Mechanically, it’s definitely well-written, which is making me curious about some of the other fare you’ve got lying around.

As for the things that I didn’t like about the story mechanically. The primary thing that didn’t click with me about this story is that I kinda didn’t really know what was going on with a lot of the TPP stuff, and felt like if the story is meant to be readable by people coming in cold, you probably want to do more to ease readers that aren’t familiar with TPP’s mythos into things, since… I admittedly didn’t really know what was going on for some parts of the Prologue and first chapter.

Good luck with your writing @canisaries , you’ve clearly put quite a bit of love into this story, and I hope that you keep your fans entertained with this story for however long its run is meant to last.

 

[Sinderella]

Hey Canis!!!! I’m excited to have rolled HH again and used this as an excuse tonget caught up :D I’ll be (doing my best to) review chapters 9 and 10. There was a LOT going on in these chapters, so I have a LOT to scream about.

So I read chapter 9 yesterday and read chapter 10 just before starting to write this. I remember being a tad bit confused by Red’s thought process as he suddenly realized that he wasn’t good enough for HIM, because I didn’t quite catch what was leading up to that—however, after rereading, it seems like he has his breakdown after willing himself to think about HIM in order to combat his fear about the spiders…only to succomb to the fear and find it was just an illusion. If I followed correctly the second time, I’m guessing that whole “when the thought of HIS presence left me” was simply him succumbing to the fear and realizing he’s not good enough to be the Bringer, which of course brings on a whole other round of problems for him. Yikers.

Honestly that whole breakdown was definitely the most interesting part of the chapter to me, because we really got to get into Red’s head. Mr. I’m An Apex Predator And Don’t Feel Love, realizing he DOES have these emotions that he can’t shake, realizing he is NOT entirely this feared being, realizing that there are some things that he simply just can’t cast off. As much as he deserves a good reality check like this, as somebody who also fears death to extreme levels, I cannot help but feel really bad for him.

The arrival of HIM was quite something too! However, I ended up taking most of that interaction with a grain of salt because I innately knew it was an illusion. Joanna hitting below the belt, good for her.

Then we get into chapter 10, where my confusion REALLY started to come out. I actually got a little frustrated with this chapter because the more I read, the more I wasn’t sure if a.) I was just overtired and not committing the words I was reading to mind, b.) misrembering things I might have read previously, or c.) just stupid. All in all I was just having a difficult time keeping up with Red’s thought processes here…UNTIL it came to light that Joanna has literally highjacked his brain. Then it made sense, because even Red himself is fucking confused. So the fact that I, as the reader, am also scattered is fitting, and really allows the beats of this chapter to flow really well. Because really, it’s cool that literally neither of us know what’s going on—what is Joanna projecting vs. what actually is? Is Michi actually alive? Did Red really see Kohath before? Sheeeeesh the QUESTIONS.

It seems like we’re getting to the nitty gritty now. I recall this story being 18 chapters long, right? If that’s the case, we’re a little over halfway there, and I’m just really intrigued about where this is going to go…and how much of what we’ve seen in the past is actually real. I did a lot of thinking in these chapters, so let’s see what comes out of it lololol.

Also, I have to know if Dr. Marsh is gonna send the authorities out to institutionalize his ass or something. I feel like she let him go a little TOO easily…UNLESS IT WAS AN ILLUSION TOO? I guess that would be one of my major critiques but given we’re kind of at the point of not knowing what’s real or what’s not and Red having a highjacked brain, I can’t say for sure. Help.

I had some line by lines set aside with some slight edit suggestions and whatever but my fucking tablet deleted them and I am v tired and don’t want to keep you waiting longer for this, so I’m gonna meme a little bit for old times sake.

Gud fic, all time fave, pls write moar <3

Now they're sobs. Tears are leaking out of my eyes. I'm crying, crying like a little brat. But it's not like there's much of a difference. I've just found out that I'm going to die and I haven't yet found the way to pretend to myself that I won't. Of course I'm crying. Of course I'm panicking. I'm seeing the cold truth of life. I'm seeing how bad things really are, and there is no comfort. There's nothing I can do but cry.

Pobrecito :( Real talk doe why aren’t you getting chased by men in white coats, Dr. Marsh should have sicced the dogs on your ass.

They're coming up, up, up, soon they'll be in my fucking crotch, oh fuck, but I gotta bear that too…

Probably feels the same as tentacles, you’ll be fine.

No. I…

I failed?

I failed.

I'm not fit for HIM.

I'm not…

I cover my mouth. Shallow, terrified breaths echo back.

I'm not fit for HIM. HE won't make me the Bringer. I won't ascend. I won't be immortal. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to --

I do have to say, this was very nice writing for somebody slipping into panic,

A stray gleam beside one of them catches my eye. The monster’s clawed hand clutches a knife. One that looks suspiciously similar to mine.

I feel my flank and realize my scabbard isn’t there. When did I…

When I entered the clinic. And I forgot to get it back before I left. But how did…

I take a closer look at the knife-bearer’s face. It’s the receptionist.

That fucking bastard.

OKAY I WAS WONDERING WHAT HAPPENED TO THE KNIFE, THE LOOSE ENDS HAVE BEEN TIED.

Dread shall fill the hearts of the prey, but the predators shall rejoice.​

I’m not rejoicing. I’m not rejoicing! I’m terrified! This is not how this was supposed to go!

Idk I am all about Red realizing he’s not this apex predator he thought he was. Get fucked, idiot (I still love you)

MADE YOU
LOOK.

And a drawing of a dick.

Gorgeous girls, who taunt their murderer. Again, good for her.

"You've got a lot of nerve," I begin, "putting me through all those illusions. What was the point of all that, anyway? Just to fuck with me?"

Bruh you killed her

The skin is still smooth. Come on, respond. Respond, you bitch. Don't you dare go silent on me now.

A sting, a splitting wound. She's responding.

The second line was a little clunky coming right after the first. You could settle for just erasing what comes after the first period, probably.

The lump lurches, throwing me off balance again, and this time I can’t recover. I break my fall with my hands, wincing at the sharp gravel digging into my palms, and stay there on all fours.

Joanna’s words return to my mind and a horrible realization dawns on me.

No, it isn’t possible. She wouldn’t fit. Even if she did, she’d be long dead by now, from suffocation, overheating, the acids…

Alright welp now I understand the warning. Now I’m convinced 80% of what I read after he put the mask on was fake, lets fucking GO

 

[NebulaDreams]

Here's my Smeargle Swap for Chapter 6 of HH! I read the whole thing a while ago so Canis already knows my thoughts on it, but the nightmare sequence left such a strong impression that I thought about a way to draw THAT scene for ages, but never had the push to do so until now.

Content Warning: There's a lot of blood in this pic so it's visible under the spoiler tag.

Spoiler: Smeargle Swap - Chapter 6 nightmare scene art

 

[Joshthewriter]

Alright, so I’m here for your long-awaited review!

The prologues are damn effective. Personally, while the second one is maybe more effective at delivering me the information, it just can’t match the sheer disgust and skin-crawliness that the first prologue left me with.

The second one gave me a “damn, that’s fucked“ feeling. The first one left me goddamn speechless for a few. A little more than “fucked” to use my own words.

Onwards, to the chapter.

I was not sure what I was getting myself into from the prologue and you did not disappoint. I wanted to know more about HIM and you teased me with more questions than answers.

I like how you’re making abundantly clear just how fucked up Red is. He’s a monster and his thought process is deservedly fucked up. Every thought has this “wrongness“ to it, this obsession that always seems to lead back to HIM. I’m very hooked.

I did not realize it was a Twitch Plays Pokemon thing until you hit on the Omanyte. I really like the idea that that Red is fuuuuuucked right up. He would be, what with all those voices in his head (disclaimer, I don’t know if thats canon to this)

Red seems to ping back and forth between going on about the coming ascension and all the divinity that goes with it, to agonizing over these mundane and ultimately unnecessary things. It’s a strange duality that he seems to have.

The supermarket scene (while disturbing) does give me a moment of relateability with Red. Who hasn’t been in a store with that one baby who just won’t stop screaming? Though, the proper reaction is not to murder everyone in the store, Red.

I remember you mentioning a Yamask, so I’m guessing that’s what the ghost is at the end of ch 1.

All in all, this is not your average pokefic. You’ve done an excellent job making me want to know more (Even if more would horrify me). Your prose is excellent and the story seems to flow really really well. Hopefully, I’ll keep up with the story soon!

 

[canisaries]

Thanks for the review! Thanks especially for checking out both prologues and the first chapter.

I did not realize it was a Twitch Plays Pokemon thing until you hit on the Omanyte. I really like the idea that that Red is fuuuuuucked right up. He would be, what with all those voices in his head (disclaimer, I don’t know if thats canon to this)

It is canon to this, though it ended when his journey did, around six years ago.

All in all, this is not your average pokefic. You’ve done an excellent job making me want to know more (Even if more would horrify me). Your prose is excellent and the story seems to flow really really well. Hopefully, I’ll keep up with the story soon!

I'm very glad to hear this! I hope you like what's to come - it does go a bit lighter for a couple of chapters after this.

 

[SparklingEspeon]

Hello! Somehow I’ve gotten this in terribly late (I blame tests), but I’ve managed to get it in now! This review will cover chapter 10, since that’s the only one published to TR I’ve left unreviewed at this point.

I do have to say that when I put this down the last time, that isn’t where I was expecting it to go. Joanna being the one behind all Red’s visions puts a lot of things into perspective, such as the dreams, the spiders, the sickness, etc. Freaky that she almost had him carving his face out before he realized! I’ll admit I’m still not sure where all the HELIX stuff is going—from the discord you seem to have canonized that it is real and he really is being semi-possessed/manipulated by some higher being, but at the same time it easily feels like something that’s a product of his own imagination and Joanna is just playing off it to scare him. I guess since we’ve cemented her as the “antagonist” for this story, though, it may not be as important as it seemed at the start. (Unless? Something changes within the final two chapters??)

I guess though he’s a cannibalistic murderer performing gruesome deeds for a Dark Being he may or may not have dreamed up, you have to at least respect Red’s ability to remain calm and at least surface level composed during all this. But even with all his up-front composedness, he still can’t tell up from down, and what is and isn’t a trick of the light. I enjoyed just how much control Joanna has over his psyche, to the point that she can influence him into seeing and believing almost anything. And even though he tries to tear them apart once he’s realized, he first has to talk himself out of them being real. Loved the pidgey callback from the beginning of the fic especially.

The big development in this chapter is basically “Red realizes he’s possessed -> Red devises a plan to exorcise her”. It’s not too much on paper, but I did like the brutal fashion in which he ends up literally carving the word into his palm to make sure he remembers. It’s messy, and I imagine it’s going to scar tbh. But I guess he really is desperate enough to do it! Tempted to read ahead offsite to see what the final two chapters will be like at some point.

Overall, good run I’d say. Will be waiting on the last two chapters before I give thoughts on the fic as a whole, but I really liked the progression of this one in a vacuum. It very much filled its role as the revelation twist chapter, and I felt like a lot of things in the story were fridge recontextualized because of it. Still thinking through all the implications myself. Until next time!

~SparklingEspeon

 

[HelloYellow17]

Heeeeere comes the Morbius Smeargle Swap train! (I’m so sorry.) 😂

 

[canisaries]

a standing ovation for a new record in time between chapters everyone. five months. couldnt have done it without you.

no but seriously i do have pretty good reasons for taking so long this time - working on Judgment, working on my contest oneshot, working on another oneshot, summer job, quitting benzos, everything wrong with my brain, so on.

this chapter is rated mature for blood, strong language, threats of violence, suicidal ideation and behavior and murder. it's not actually as extreme in terms of content as the other mature rated chapters, but i think it's better to round things up rather than down. either way, enjoy!

---

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Got You Now

---​

I kept my ears perked the whole way back to the graveyard, but I didn’t hear any more pidgey saying my name or Joanna’s name or what I did to her. While it doesn’t prove those birds don’t exist - there’s no way to actually prove that, really - it’s still better than the alternative.

I also realized that carving the word ‘exorcism’ into my hand would cause it to bleed. I didn’t think about that downside when I did it because I was a bit busy trying to keep Joanna from blocking the word from my mind again, but what’s done is done. Either way, I stopped by the forest stream and cleaned off the excess blood as best as I could, hoping dearly the water was clean enough not to cause an infection. More blood did surface from the wounds, but they were only little beads, not something that would run down and drip off my hand and cause a public disturbance. The coldness of the water might have helped with that. I briefly considered using the bandages from my forearm to cover them up, but that would have defeated the point of carving my skin in the first place. I might have forgotten the cuts were deliberate instead of just being the result of some random injury.

The hand now tucked in my pocket, I arrive at the edge of the graveyard. Before I step out of the woods and into the open, though, I recap my plan.

I’m going to take the regular route to the library. It may be open, but it’s the fastest path, and taking any other would increase the risk of forgetting what I’m doing. I just have to walk at a brisk pace without doing anything strange to arouse suspicion or draw attention in general. The better I blend in, the less likely it is for the cops - who may or may not be after me - to find out where I am.

Alright. I take a moment to check no one’s around, then leave the shelter of the trees. I make it past the graves and out of the gate without anyone arriving. Good. The best I could hope for, really. I hold on to that positivity as I begin my treacherous journey to the library.

The spruces and pines flanking the gravelly road seem to be my only company for the next minute or so. I begin to wonder if I could actually sprint while no one's around - until someone, a local woman, emerges from a little side-path and turns my way.

I try not to let the surge of my heartbeat show and continue walking, but the organ pounds against my ribs like a primeape in a cage. Still, I force my eyes to stare directly ahead. I can't let my gaze stray and meet hers. She'd only pay more attention to me that way.

And don’t forget about the illusions, oh Gods, the illusions. Joanna might try to trick me with something again. She might create an illusion of that woman attacking me to get me to attack her in return, which would get me in an even worse position than before. Or Joanna could just make some kind of loud noise to make me jump and get the woman to notice something’s off about me. Whatever the case, I need to stay calm and always think before I act.

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. Joanna did nothing.

I nearly stop and look behind me to see if this really happened, but I know I shouldn’t take that chance. I have to settle for the sound of her footsteps gradually fading until the ambient winds and traffic drown them out.

I catch my breath. I’d been holding it, it seems. I shouldn’t do that. Oh, great, another thing to worry about…

No, don’t get discouraged. Things will only get worse if you let your anxieties take hold. I take a deep breath and force my mind to move on. The road’s about to open up, after all. The need to stay cool will only become more dire.

I reach the end of the gravelly path, transitioning to an asphalt street. With the trees gone, I can already spot three new people in the area. The two of them coming my way, an older man and a woman with a baby stroller - fine, I guess that’s technically three people - come closer and closer. I prepare myself again, but despite my worries, they pass me by without any trouble. I notice nothing wrong about my surroundings before, during or after. In other words, Joanna stays in line. Whether that means I’m in control or that it’s part of some great insidious plan of hers, I don’t know. I just have to take the win and go with it.

Some time later, I reach the hospital. There are more people around now. It could be a good thing or it could be a bad thing. Good thing: blending into a crowd. Bad thing: if even one recognizes me, they can tell all the others and then they'll all come after me. And I can't kill that many people that fast.

Though there are more buildings around now, too. Buildings you're free to enter, like stores. If I spot any cops around, I can slip into one and hide. Whether they'd let me stay as long as I needed, though, that's another question…

I calmly look around, surveying the area for any blue uniforms yet again, but none are there. Only civilians. Most are humans, but there are some mon in the mix. There's a nidoking. Oh Gods, Fonz? No, Fonz trims his quills differently, and I'm pretty sure he's more purple in hue. And that one moves with swagger. Fonz walks like he's sorry about his size. And, of course, Fonz rarely leaves his jacket behind…

I shake my head. No. Don't stray into irrelevant thoughts. Keep your focus. You're not that far away from the library…

That's right, I'm really not! I can already see the flat black roof of the library peeking over the buildings. Gods, I'm happy, but I've never felt so slow. It's right there, and my steps are so slow, so slow. But I'm getting closer. Every step taken means less time to spend out on the street.

Okay. One more corner to pass. I can see the yard of the library, more and more of it coming into view as I get closer. There's a person. There's another person. There's a group of people. There's a stand by the doors.

Fuck.

Over a dozen people have gathered in the yard, a few of them wearing matching blue scarves. They must be members of some organization doing some kind of promotion or rally - a theory that’s supported by the fact that they seem to be passing out fliers. More importantly, they’re gathered right by the doors, on both sides, which means I can’t get to the library without drawing their attention. Oh, what the hell do these people even want?

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 just need to get past them the same way I’ve gotten past everyone else I’ve met on the way here.

I take one last look around in case of any cops, which I can’t spot, and begin heading for the front doors. I walk past the first group of people. The one with the blue scarf shoots me a look as I go by, but she’s too busy explaining something to the others to pay me any further mind. Fantastic, beautiful, yes. Another group to my right, quickly cleared with similar ease. Alright, just don’t get overconfident. Remember to be alert for illusions.

Now approaching the main congregation. Slowing down walking speed. I catch words of their conversations - foundation, help, concert, children, fundraiser - but I throw them out of my conscious mind as soon as they arrive and steer my focus back to the people themselves, watching for any intent to talk to me so that I can shoot it down fast and clean with a classic ‘sorry, I’m busy’.

People begin to notice me, stepping back to give me space. No strange expressions on anyone’s face, no imminent sales pitches. Nothing looks illusory, not that I have enough time for a proper analysis of anything. My way is now clear. The doors wait ahead of me. Yes --

Something catches my foot, the world tilts, asphalt comes at my face. I barely get my arms in front of me in time to break my fall. Left palm hits ground, stings! Fuck! The cuts, right…

Whispers arise from the crowd. Shit, now I'm the center of attention. I need to get up quickly…

"You alright?" someone asks behind me. I turn my head to see --

Oh, fuck. I can't believe this.

The burly blond Arcean - in other words, Samson - recognizes me, too, judging by his widened eyes. Gods, of all the people to bump into…

He offers a hand. Fuck no, I think, but I can't turn down his offer for help now that I've clearly seen it - that would be rude, and rude people are not liked. Suppressing a grimace, I take Samson’s hand.

He grasps it firmly and pulls me up - he really pulls me up, goddamn, he's stronger than he looks - and I thank him as I'm required to. I try to move on, but he circles in front of me, blocking the doors. What the fuck does he want?

"Hey, before you go, um…" he begins, tone infuriatingly polite as if it made up for his little one-man blockade stunt. "I just wanted to apologize about that thing at the beach. Clearly, I was interrupting --”

I wanna tell him to go fuck himself and that pony god of his while he’s at it, but I know better. “Look, it’s alright,” I say, raising my hands. “I’m sorry about what I said, too. Can we just for-”

I raised my hands.

I close them immediately and take them behind my back, but it’s too late.

He saw my left palm. He saw the wounds. He might have even read the writing. And now he’s staring at me in shock.

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

“Wh-what was that on your hand?” he says, stepping forward. “Are you hurt?”

No. No. I have to get away now. “It’s nothing. Leave me alone,” I spit as I lunge past him, lucky that he didn’t stop me. I tear open the library’s door and slip through, catching a glimpse of the red stain left behind on the metal bar. Fuck, fuck. Just keep going.

I draw in a sharp breath -- and cough and cough immediately after, cough to get the stench of spices and rubber and paint out of my lungs, but it comes back with every inhalation. Gods, I wanna stab whoever’s responsible for this renovation, but now’s not the time…

I hurry deeper into the building, into the array of shelves, to the Fact section. I weave towards Biology, brushing past the myriad of books held up by the twisted metal squiggles they consider shelves. The black rug beneath gives a spongy squeak for each of my steps. Disgusting. I’ll destroy it all once ascension comes.

Okay. Pokémon, Ghosts. I’m here. One shelf, books in purple, black and blue. I need to find a book on… on what? I check my hand again. EXORCISM. It was some ghost thing. It was gonna help me get rid of Joanna. Is that word in the title of any of these books? Not here, not there…

Creeee-eee-eeaak…

What was that?

I glance in the direction of the noise, but nothing’s out of place. There’s nothing that would have made that metallic creaking… unless, of course, these shelves are so shitty that they’re buckling under the weight of the --

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. I need to focus on my task.

I finish going through the books’ titles. None contained the word ‘exorcism’, so I choose some generic-looking book instead - I think I skimmed this one the last time I was here. I open the glossary and look for E. There. I skip to the end of the block and there it is, ‘exorcism’, as the last entry. Lots of different page numbers are mentioned, but there’s only one range, 182-192. That sounds like the best place to head. What page is this? 240. Alright. I place my index finger on the current page so that I don’t lose it in case I forget where I’m supposed to go - or, more precisely, in case Joanna blocks the memory…

Creee-eeeeee-eeaaak…

There’s that creaking again! But no, no, just ignore that, get back to…

Thump, thump, thu-thump thu-thu-thu-thu-thump thu-thump thu-thu-

Okay, that’s it!

I shut the book, finger still as bookmark, and turn around to see what the fuck is making all this --

I freeze.

Dozens of books lie scattered on the floor, piled around the shelf they’ve fallen from - or what’s become of that shelf.

The bicolor sheet of metal that used to coil around the rows of books has twisted into a strange, irregular shape. Its many-jointed form looks even more serpentine than before.

A sharp screech splits the air as the final joint bends towards me, twisted sideways. Another screech, and the segment tears itself in half, leaving serrated edges. It looks like the jaws of a very thin snake.

Another horrible screech comes as the halves snap together in a bite.

It is a snake.

Oh.

Oh, okay!

Despite the chill in my blood, my lips pull back in a grin.

Are you stupid, Joanna? Did you think I was going to fall for this? Did you think this was going to scare me? Make me throw down this book and scamper away with my tail between my legs?

What a sad attempt at an illusion. She must be getting desperate. Which, in turn, means that I’m getting closer.

I turn my back on the metallic serpent and return my attention to the book even if my primal instincts think it’s a poor idea. The creature makes more screeches, but I force myself to ignore them. I open the book in the middle and start searching for page… I check the glossary again. Page 182. Okay. I opened the book at 123. I skip ahead. 134, 156, 168, 172 --

“Uh, excuse me --”

“Fucking hell!” I spit, jerking my head towards the left. Unfortunately, I see someone I already saw not too long ago. The Arcean.

“What do you want from me?” I hiss at his stupid face.

He steps back, holding his palms up. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here to help.”

“Help?” I scoff. “I don’t want any! Get away from me!”

He’s not leaving, he’s not moving, he keeps those hands up and that fucking infuriating look of innocence on his face. “It’s alright,” he says, “I figured out your problem.”

“What proble-”

Shit, wait, no! If he knows something about me, he really shouldn't say it aloud!

I cower back, signalling submission. The sudden shift in my behavior makes him flinch, giving me another chance to speak, yes.

“H-hold on,” I say. “Can you just, uh, wait a moment?”

He blinks, still confused. “I… sure.”

That shut him up for now. I return to the book. 172. 176. 178, 180, one eighty tw-

It’s blank.

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

I pinch the rest of the pages and run my thumb upwards. Corners upon corners flash by, all empty.

I take a deep breath in, then let it out.

“Actually…” I say, turning back to the Arcean. “There is something you can help me with.”

His blue eyes light up - of course they do. “What’s that?”

I step closer to him and show the open book. “Do these pages look blank to you?”

“...No?” he answers, confused.

“Okay, thanks.” I transfer the book to my left hand and reach inside my jacket with the right, grabbing the knife in the pocket. “Now, I need to write something down,” I say. “Do you have a pen on you?”

He looks down, digging into his pockets. “Uh, let’s s-”

I let go of the book. 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.

He freezes at the sight of the weapon. “Wh-”

“Don't fucking move!” I growl, and I can feel him flinch. “Understand?”

“Y-yes,” he manages to get out.

I shuffle closer to get a better hold of him. It’s still not great given our height difference, but it seems to be working well enough.

“Alright. I wanna turn around now,” I tell Samson. “Follow me as I move. Got that?”

“Yes.”

We turn together to face the way I came. The shelf-serpent is still there. For fuck's sake.

“There’s no point in showing that anymore,” I spit. “I already know it isn’t real.”

“What?”

I flinch. Right, the guy can hear me. And so can everyone else. I shouldn’t be speaking aloud, I should be…

But can I really count on Joanna listening to my thoughts? It’s very, very important that she understands me exactly as intended, but my mind’s going a mile a minute. If I speak aloud, she’ll hear me clearly. And, really, what the fuck kinda harm is speaking aloud gonna do to me now? I already have a knife to someone’s throat. As long as I don’t mention Joanna’s name or anything else related to my past crimes, I won’t be making things any worse for myself.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Samson,” I say. “It was Samson, right?”

“Samson, yes,” he breathes.

“Alright.” I pause to think. “Okay, Samson, listen up. Whenever I say your name, it means I’m talking to you. Otherwise, ignore it. Do you understand?”

“I… yes.”

“Good. Now…” I look down at the book on the floor. “I wanna pick up that book, Samson. For that, we need to crouch. Just follow my lead. Got that?”

“Y-yes.”

Slowly but surely, we squat down. I notice a problem, but come up with the solution rather quickly. I transfer the knife to my left hand, keeping the blade against Samson’s throat, and pick up the book with my right hand. I’ve lost the page I was on, but I’d already accepted that as a likely outcome when I dropped the book.

“Alright,” I sigh. I notice I’m a bit out of breath. Can’t really blame myself. Either way, I make myself take deeper breaths until I feel like I’m good to go again.

“Samson, back up,” I then order, and he obeys. We rise as slowly as we descended, both cautious for different reasons - I want to make sure he gets no window to escape, and he wants to make sure I don’t slit his throat.

At last, we’re upright again. I realize that one hand isn’t enough to browse the book… but I actually have more than one hand, don’t I?

“Samson,” I begin, and the Arcean tenses up again. I offer him the book. “Grab this book.”

“Right.” He does as instructed, though his hold is trembling. Whatever. It’s not a problem yet. Right hand now free, I transfer the knife back to it. Much better for keeping a hostage on my left.

“Now, go to page…” I stretch my memory. “182.”

Without protest, he opens the book and begins to browse. I start to wonder if there's anyone that can see us. Should I look behind me? No, it’ll only get harder to concentrate if I see someone there. And Samson’s already getting close to the page I need…

At 180, he flips the last page. The next opening… is still blank.

I clench my teeth. Yeah, didn’t think it would be so easy.

“Is… is this good?” Samson asks, voice quiet and wavering.

“Good enough,” I mutter, then sigh. “Okay, Samson, the next few things I’m gonna say don’t concern you. Ignore them.”

“A-alright.”

I pin my eyes on the blank pages and think of Joanna. “Show them.”

I wait, but there’s no change. Gods. She’s really making me spell it out.

“Show them,” I press, “or I’m gonna kill him.”

Samson flinches. “What?”

“What did I just tell you?” I spit, and he shrinks under my arms. Hopefully he got the message for good this time.

I return my gaze to the book. Still blank. Fine.

“I know you can hear me,” I say. “Don’t pretend like you can’t. This guy’s life is in your hands, and you know it. Now…” I take a shaky breath in. “I’m gonna do what I did the last time you didn’t want to cooperate. I’m gonna count down from ten. If, by the time I hit zero, I don’t see any ink on these pages…” I squeeze Samson closer to me. “I’m gonna slit his throat. Okay?”

No response, not that I expected one. Though Samson’s trembling is getting worse.

“Right.” I get into position, moving the blade against the Arcean’s neck. He winces at the touch of the cold metal. An urge comes to slash it open right now, but no, no, not yet. Not ever, actually. Because Joanna’s gonna budge, just like last time, and I’m gonna get my way.

“Ten,” I begin. “Nine. Eight. Seven…”

Sudden sounds catch my ears. Steps, many of them, hurried, coming my way. Then they stop.

"Stay where you are," commands a voice. Male, authoritative. "This is the police."

The police.

My body freezes over. My arms, my legs, my face, my eyes - all but my heart which thrashes wildly instead, threatening to shatter the icy shell around it.

Then it all thaws.

The grin, closer now to a snarl, returns to my face.

"You're getting desperate," I sneer. "I can tell…"

How very convenient it would be for the cops to show up now, right here, in the nick of time.

“Turn around,” the voice continues.

I grimace. “You’re insulting me.” The grin returns. “But that doesn’t matter. The countdown will continue. Where was I… oh, right. Seven.”

“Turn around!”

Is she even listening to me? I count down louder. “Six. Five. Four.”

“Turn around, or we will shoot!”

She’s not listening. She’s not fucking listening. She’s not stopping the illusion. She’s not showing the pages. Does she not believe I’ll do it? Does she not care? Should I stop and find another approach?

No, that may be what she’s counting on. I need to stick to this. I need to stand my ground.

“Three!” I shout. There’s a waver in the voice. I squeeze the knife tighter, palm swimming in sweat. It will slash that skin, Joanna, it will kill poor Samson. Do you really want that?

“Final warning!” shouts the cop.

“Two!” I shout back. Two. Two. We’re at two. That’s so close. Why hasn’t she given up yet? Is she not gonna give up? Will I really, really have to kill this guy and deal with the consequences? Am I prepared to do that? Is this an edge I can afford to lose?

No. No, no doubting. That’s what she wants. No doubting. I will bring this to completion.

I breathe in. The next word repeats in my mind. My throat and tongue stand at attention, ready to launch. The time comes, and I shout --

“Stop.”

I’m paralyzed.

That voice…

That was her voice.

“Please,” she breathes. “Please, no more of this.”

That voice I have not heard in months. The last time was… it wasn’t even on the day that I killed her. I didn’t let her say anything before I attacked her, and after that, she was gagged…

“I wanna talk to you.”

Surprise begins to make way for relief. She's finally talking to me.

Although… that's not what I asked for. I asked her to show the pages. They're still blank. But I guess it's still better than her not reacting to me at all…

I clear my throat. “I’m listening.”

“Face to face.”

I pause. “What do you mean?”

“Just that I’m gonna appear in front of you,” she explains. “Don’t be alarmed.”

“And it’s not a trick?” I ask, tensing up.

“It’s not. I… I don’t want that man to get hurt.”

I glance at Samson. His face is deathly pale. His eyes unfocused and his mouth ajar, he’s giving his best impression of a dead fish.

I grab him a bit more tightly, sending a jolt through his body. I focus on the touch - the fabric of his t-shirt, the bone and muscle of his shoulder. It feels real. So does the knife in my hand. She hasn’t tampered with anything. I really do have a hostage.

“Alright,” I breathe. “Do it.”

I look ahead. At first, it seems like nothing's happening, but then I realize the air directly ahead has begun to darken. It condenses, darkens further, takes shape - the shape of a yamask.

Two red eyes open at its sides, leaking as always. A glint of golden light, and a mask materializes into the grasp of its hands. Joanna's face. Melancholic.

After days of hiding in the recesses of my psyche, tormenting me from where I can't see her… she's here, right in front of me, in her true form.

"...Hey."

I frown. “Get to the point. You’re on limited time.”

She sighs, tense. “Right.”

She takes one hand off the mask to hold it at her side instead, but changes her mind and brings the mask back in front of her chest again. She squeezes her eyes shut and forces out the words on her mind. “I’m offering you a way out.”

“A way out?”

She opens her eyes, but can’t bring herself to look at me. Her fingers grasp the edge of her mask harder. “I’m… I’m allowing you to kill me.”

Kill… her?

“This…” She pries one hand off the mask to gesture to herself, shaking. “This isn’t an illusion. This is really me. A-and that means that if you…”

Recognition flashes in my mind as I remember what I read all those days ago. That if a yamask appeared to the one they possessed in their real form, they would actually be vulnerable to physical attacks.

Of course, last time I tried that, she tricked me - it wasn’t really her, but a show and dance she put on to deceive me, to make me think she was dead while she kept hiding in my mind.

So why would this time be any different?

“I know,” she says - I forgot she could read my mind to an extent - “I know what you’re thinking, but… hear me out. If you stab me now, you won’t lose anything. You can do it quickly enough for your hostage not to escape. And when I d-die, those pages are gonna become visible. You can still perform an exorcism. You can even get some other guy to perform that exorcism so you know the text can’t have been tampered with. So…” She winces. “It’s in your benefit to try.”

Well… she does make a good point. All of that makes sense. Except for one crucial detail.

“What made you change your mind?” I ask. “What makes you just… want to give up now, after everything you’ve done? And most importantly…” My look turns into a glare. “Why would you want to die?”

She lowers one hand to form a fist. She still can't look at me.

"It's not that I want to die," she says, voice wavering. "It's that I just think it's for the better."

I raise a brow. "How come?" The last time she spoke to me, she seemed pretty hell-bent on getting me caught…

"Oh, I have no doubt you're gonna get caught," she spits, catching me off guard, but her venom dilutes from there. "You're clearly unstable enough without my help. It's… myself that I'm worried about."

"You?"

Her fist tightens. "Ever since I entered your mind… I feel like I've been changing. Changing… to become more like you."

"What do you mean?" Has she started to see things from my perspective?

She shuddered. "No. I'll never want to be on your side. That much I know."

I roll my eyes. Fine.

"What I mean," she continues, "is that I've… I've found myself thinking like you. Coldly. Selfishly. Treating people like tools, making these schemes with less and less regard for the people involved. Even now, I… I took so long to stop you from counting. I thought I could take the gamble. The gamble on that man's life." She hugs her mask. "I'd been convincing myself that everything I did was for the greater good, to get you locked up, and that I could afford to be tied to you for as long as that took, but… I-I don't think that's true anymore."

That's stupid, I find myself thinking, but I shouldn't think that - I should encourage her to think whatever benefits me. But I guess I also just thought that, so that edge is gone.

She clenches a fist again. "Of course to you that'd be stupid. You don't give a shit what happens to anyone else as long as you get something out of it. You don't understand what it's like to actually have moral responsibility. If you were in my place, you'd just let yourself become more twisted. You'd let your family, whoever they were, see their daughter turned into a monster."

Being selfish is all it takes to be a monster?

"It's not just selfishness!" she snaps, fist trembling. "It's… it's…"

A barrage of maroon droplets leaks from her eyes. Even with her limited features, I see pure disgust radiate off her face.

"The sick fantasies you have!" she shouts, gagging on her voice. "They've started to… feel good! What kind of person do you think I'm gonna become when I lose my morals and take pleasure in violence?"

She'd become like me.

There'd be someone else like me?

She hears that thought, and she looks like she's about to puke.

"I never want to be like you!" she cries. "I can't let myself bring a person like that into the world! Even if…" A sob cuts her speech. "Even if it means I have to die!"

She covers her face with a shaky hand. "S…so," she says, "I have to do it. Before I don't want to do it anymore."

She falls silent after that, save for her patchy breathing. I guess that's it for her little manifesto.

I take some time to think.

She claims that she wants me to end her life before she can become any more like me. To me, that logic would be invalid for two reasons - I don't think there's anything wrong with the way I am, and I really, really, really don't want to die.

But there was a time many years ago when I did.

When He died.

I didn't yet know back then that He could be brought back. I thought He was gone forever. The linchpin of my life, the only one I'd ever felt a real connection towards, erased from this world. Without Him, I couldn't see anything but darkness. Without Him, life felt worse than death.

Then I met HIM. HE told me HE could bring Him back, and HE also taught me death was incomprehensible to my human mind, something far worse than my life could ever be.

But she doesn't know that. She's seen me think that, but she doesn't believe it. She doesn't believe HIM. She probably doesn't even believe HE is real. She probably thinks I'm just crazy. What irony. From my perspective, she's the crazy one.

She does make a good point about the attack, though. There's no way Samson will escape during the little time it takes for me to swing at her. He's a complete wimp, a scaredy skitty. He'll freeze in shock, and before he knows it, my knife will be right back in front of his throat.

I can only win here.

I draw in a deep breath and sigh it out. “Okay.”

She slides her hand down her face to see me, but keeps it on her mouth, or where her mouth would probably be. She seems relieved, though still very anxious. Makes sense for what’s to come.

I consider my surroundings. It’s a bit cramped here with all the shelves. I better move a bit more out into the open so I have space to strike at her.

“Samson,” I say. His flinch tells me that he’s paying attention. “I wanna move backwards a bit. Away from the shelves. Just follow my lead, okay?”

“Okay.” Obedient as ever. This guy doesn’t even seem like the type that would try to escape. I just have to hope my impression isn’t wrong.

Slowly but steadily, I back us up out of the aisle and into the reading area, which consists of tables and chairs spaced well apart. I also make us turn around to face the rest of the space rather than the corner. This is the direction I heard the cops shouting from, but there’s no one here. Of course there isn’t. The cops were fake.

Joanna floats in front of me. The motion is jittery. Can I be sure she won’t dodge?

“I… I’ll close my eyes,” she says, eyes flicking to me between longer looks at the floor. “That way I can’t see it coming.”

“I guess that works,” I mumble. “Or… won’t you hear it from my thoughts when I’m doing it?”

“Uh…” Her shoulders slump. “Maybe. But --” She raises a hand. “I-in the case I do dodge… please don’t make any hasty decisions. It’ll just have been a mistake.” She lowers her hand and gaze. “I really don’t want that man to die, I just haven’t… ever done this before, you know. Obviously.”

I roll my eyes again, but I get it. Self-preservation instincts can’t exactly be turned off at will. “If it ends up not working, I’m going back to the original plan,” I say. “You’ll just have to stay there while I perform the exorcism.”

She pauses - oh, come on, are you thinking about switching now?

“L-let’s at least try this first,” she says. “I doubt exorcisms are very fast, and if they’re painful…”

Okay, okay, I don’t care. Just get ready already.

She sighs. “Right.” She floats up to position. “Is this a good spot?”

Yeah… yeah, I think so.

She nods, defeated. “Okay. I-I’m gonna close my eyes now.”

Finally.

She looks like she wants to say something else, but does the smart thing and closes her eyes instead. She remembers her mask and brings it to her side, exposing her body. Is it still hard and metallic now that she’s inside my mind? I guess it doesn’t matter as long as she keeps it out of the way.

Okay. Everything’s ready now. Am I ready? No, my knife’s pointing the wrong way. I flip it over, hoping Samson won’t notice. It doesn’t seem like he does. Good. I picture the trajectory of my strike. It cuts through the underside of that strange, flat body. Where her throat would be if she had one. Gods, yes, I get to slit her throat. Compensation for all the trouble she’s given me.

I stabilize my breath and with it, my hand. I sense the right moment come.

I slash across the air. The blade catches her body and tears through it like drenched paper. Her eyes open in an instant, bugging in terror and pain. Droplets of that red fluid go flying. White fire ignites at the edges of her wound, then flares almost faster than I can follow, swallowing up her body and her mask - and she’s gone.

I did it. I did it! I actually --

Something tugs hard on my knife.

Hard enough for me to lose my grip.

The knife slides out of my hand and flies off across the room.

What?

I blink. When my eyes open, the room is filled with cops.

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

Something slams into my chest - Samson’s elbow. The pain radiates to my limbs, paralyzing them, and I can’t do anything. Samson throws off my arm and slips away. He escaped. My hostage escaped. I have no hostage. That means --

“Go, go, go!”

The nearest policeman charges at me. I should run. I should run, but I can’t. My legs are frozen. My body is frozen. And so he reaches me. He grabs my arms and bends them behind my back. Another policeman has come to assist him. While the first man keeps me steady, the second locks something metal around my wrists. Handcuffs.

They got me.

A dark haze appears in front of me. Solidifies. To the shape of a yamask. The mask hangs off one hand, relaxed as can be, while another covers the mouth - or where the mouth would be. The eyes are mocking.

She laughs.

No. No. No. No!

“Yes,” she says, a smile in her voice. It cuts like a razor.

Someone nudges my shoulder and says something. One of the policemen. I don’t respond. I can’t respond. After trying a few more times, he puts his arm underneath mine, and I finally thaw.

I tear away like a crazed animal. I don’t get anywhere, of course I don’t get anywhere, he’s got his arm hooked under mine and my wrists are chained together, but I can’t stop it, and I don’t want to stop it. The policeman yells - tells me to calm down, I think - and my arm feels like it’s gonna rip, but I can’t stop. I have to get away, even if I know I can’t. I can’t let them take me. I can’t --

“That’s not gonna work,” Joanna mocks. I make one lunge towards her, but she doesn’t even blink. She knows I can’t do anything to her. I’m handcuffed, and even if I wasn’t, there’s no way she’s actually tangible.

She lied about that. She lied about everything.

“And you bought it.”

Something seizes my other arm as well. Another cop. They start to drag me away, no, no, I don’t wanna go. I try to regain my footing so I could try to jerk away again, but they don’t hold me high enough and I’m at an awkward angle, I just can’t make it work. I’m reduced to wriggling like a madman, shoes screeching against the floor. Just like… just like in my nightmares.

Nightmare, nightmare. Nightmares I get to wake up from and realize they aren’t real, but this… this is real. This is actually real. This is really happening. This…

Oh, no, no, no.

I stop my flailing, letting out something like a sigh mixed with a laugh. No, this isn’t real. This is another one of Joanna’s tricks, and I fell for it because I freaked out and forgot to be skeptical.

“Nice try,” I wheeze, staring at the yamask with a triumphant grin.

But she laughs. “Oh, you’re pathetic!”

The grin twists into a grimace, but don’t give up, don’t let her words get to you. She’s just trying to throw you off. If you really focus, you can see this is all fake, and then that attitude of hers will fly right out the window. She’ll be begging for mercy. She’ll fear you, as she should.

Okay, concentrate. Concentrate on the cops. I turn my head to analyze the one to my right. He looks back at me, asks if I’m alright, which he’s probably doing because he thinks it’ll calm me down or he’s legally required to, he doesn’t actually care, I’m just some deranged maniac to him. I study his face, his eyes, they’re brown, his eyelashes, eyebrows, wrinkles, nose, lips, chin, hair and ears, all little hairs and pores on his skin - no, that’s bad proof, humans are hardwired to expect natural features on a human face. I look down at his uniform. The blue fabric, its texture, the threads interweaving… then the wrinkles of the cloth, how they change as the policeman moves, then the buttons, how they shine in the lights…

Then the badge, its engraving of the Kanto coat of arms - the three feathers - and beneath it, the words ‘Kanto Police’.

Nothing’s out of place.

But that’s just because I haven’t focused enough! I need more time, more effort. This is fake, I know it. It has to be. I can’t really have been caught. That just can’t happen. My life can’t be over. They can’t really be…

The metal threshold of the front door knocks against my heels. The cool outside air pours in. The people outside, the fundraiser people, stare at me from both sides of the entrance. Scared. Backing away. Whispering.

This is real.

“Yep,” Joanna says, floating up closer. “They’ve got you now.”

They’ve got me. Do they…

“They know what you did,” she says, “thanks to all the clues I left them when you weren’t looking.”

No. It can’t be. They can’t know. There can’t be that much proof. They can’t know for sure. I-I still have a chance if I just --

“Please!” I yell, turning my head to try and see ahead. “This is a mistake! I haven’t done anything!”

But they ignore me. They just keep dragging me. They’re dragging me towards a white police van. One of the other cops opens the back doors. An arcanine with a vest appears from behind the van. Its eyes lock onto me, vigilantly watching as I’m dragged closer and closer to the vehicle.

Joanna laughs again. I hate that sound!

“You just kept a man hostage right in front of them!” she says. “Do you think they’re gonna believe you?”

The cop next to the van reaches into the back and pulls out a ramp, which he then positions on the edge. Yep, they want to put me in there. I need to get the fuck away. But I already know I can’t. But it doesn’t stop me. I jerk and twist and flail and try to bite one of the arms holding me but I can’t reach it with my stupid short human neck and flat human face. My arms, sore from the constant attempts to tear away, start to weaken, and it seems like the cops are holding on even tighter - fuck, fuck.

“This is all a misunderstanding!” I yell, words as my last weapon, but no one listens, no one listens. The back of the van awaits straight ahead, doors fully open like the maw of a gyarados about to swallow me whole. I can’t go in there, I can’t go in there, no, no, no, but I can’t get away, their arms won’t budge. They reach the ramp and haul me in, the arcanine following in my wake. They pull me against the right wall, or left wall from their perspective, and plant me down on the wooden bench. They let go of me -- they let go of me!

I jump right back up, but the arcanine opens its mouth and snarls, and the prey in me leaps backwards, my back hitting the wall, fuck, ow. No, no, I can’t be a slave to my instincts now, but holy fuck, that’s a big arcanine, and it’ll bite or tackle me if I move towards it again, and that’ll break my bones. The two cops that hauled me in leave, and I want to run after them, but I can’t, I can’t. They slide the ramp back in and slam the doors closed. No!

In an instant, the snarl on the arcanine’s face disappears, followed by a quick lick of the lips and a neutral expression. The mon then moves to the side and sits down, freeing up space for me to shuffle up to the doors and their gridded windows. I slam into the doors with my shoulder, of course, and nothing happens, of course, they’re locked. There’s not even anyone outside anymore. No one but Joanna.

“It’s over,” she says, no ire in her tone this time. “I’ve won. And now...”

The van begins to rumble. Seconds later, it nudges into motion.

“You’re going to face the consequences of your actions.”

---​

 

[Joshthewriter]

Double chapter review drop! This will be mostly stream of consciousness, with praise and crit handed out where I think its due.

Chapter 2:

I will say beforehand, that the chapter seems very polished with solid prose all around. It shows the care you put into this story.

So, Red’s seeing a yamask apparently made from his latest victim’s face. Wonder if there’s anything he can realistically do, seeing as how he already killed and ate her.

A little girl comes along and Red’s own internal monologue mentions that it’s creepy he’s stalking a little girl. At least you know, Red. At least you know.

Says something as to how fucked Red’s mind is that he immediately went to “how do I kill it” and not something about ghost memories of their human life. He knows what his priorities are lol.

I may have missed it, but what was Red’s trauma with the internet? Seems like something that might be helpful here and he dismisses it as non helpful immediately.

Lol I forgot how unashamedly Red’s just like ”yeah I need some spores and duct tape and I’m good”. Fuckin psychopath.

Oh? Michi having aura powers? That’s interesting, even if it’s probably dangerous as fuck for Red.

lol, yet again Red’s mental monologue is hilarious. Him freaking out about Michi’s knife and promptly realizing it’s nothing for him to be scared of is gold. I really do like the glimpse of Red’s thought process as well. He’s smart. He’s very smart. He’s just supremely messed up.

I did not expect the psychic/aura nullification thing to be a literal blood-mage-esque pentagram carving in his arm. I love it though. It fits the world you’ve been building (which I’m noticing is a strong point with your writing in general).

Much like Red, I had completely forgotten about the psychiatrist appointment as well! Should be fun, let’s go!!!

Chapter 3:

I LOVE the description of the clinic. You do a fantastic job at putting us in Red’s mind and telling us so much about him by describing the clinic and Red’s thoughts as he waits for the appointment. Fantastic job with this entire sequence leading up to the appointment.

And then the bombshell of reveals and teases within the appointment itself! I know nothing about TPP lore, but I really really want to now! The Twitch? What happened on MT Silver? What is Red on about a baby omanyte and a dying omastar? And for God’s sake, I really want to know more about HIM and if he is actually real or not!!!!

Lore and world backstory seem to be very very much your strong suit and you’ve got me hooked with the setup here.

Quite honestly, I see the Canis in Red’s freak out about what the Library looks like. I agree with it though. They put in some post-modern monstrosity near me and I intensely dislike whatever the hell it’s supposed to be. Certainly isn’t the cozy and welcoming library I used to remember.

I do like Red mentally chastising himself for his mind wandering. Felt very real, like you’re drawing on your own experience for this bit.

The cofragigus description was pure horror fodder and I loved it. All the yamask lore was great tbh. Really loving the “lore dump” that has been this chapter.

And it ends with an ominous cliffhanger. I really really loved this chapter more than 2. It set up the next steps of the story and fed me so many interesting backstory bits that I’m just champing at the bit for more!

Great work on these two chapters. I think I said it earlier, but I’m so impressed by the quality and care that went into this story. I’ll be back!!!!

 

[canisaries]

I may have missed it, but what was Red’s trauma with the internet? Seems like something that might be helpful here and he dismisses it as non helpful immediately.

And then the bombshell of reveals and teases within the appointment itself! I know nothing about TPP lore, but I really really want to now! The Twitch? What happened on MT Silver? What is Red on about a baby omanyte and a dying omastar? And for God’s sake, I really want to know more about HIM and if he is actually real or not!!!!

Haha uhhh well the bad news is that HH goes into the TPP stuff very little. This is partly because it would clog up the rest of the story and partly because that stuff was dealt with more in Seiren, the story that comes chronologically before HH. Helix (the little one) plays a much larger role in that, and Red's tech-phobia is an actual plot element. In the meantime, though, I can answer anything you want to ask about on the Discord or so since none of it is spoilers, it's just character backstory that couldn't be explored here.

The cofragigus description was pure horror fodder and I loved it. All the yamask lore was great tbh. Really loving the “lore dump” that has been this chapter.

I'm glad you liked it as I've been worried about Chapter 3 being too much of an expodump. Although I do suppose I do give exposition pretty sparingly otherwise... giving things straight is probably refreshing for the reader, lol.

Thanks for the review! I'm really happy with how much you seem to be into this story, especially since I consider these two chapters the weakest. You're in for some real shit down the line. I'll be glad to do another exchange if you feel up for it!

 

[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 :)