The mental health clinic towers over me.
… Wait, Red is actually
bothering to go to mental health clinics while he’s ritually murdering people on the sly?
One would think that a place focused on aiding the mentally troubled would try to appear as welcoming and unintimidating as possible, but clearly the architect didn't agree. Instead, the building is a soulless, washed-beige block of concrete with featureless windows.
However, that's nothing compared to the entrance, which has a low, protruding roof held up by cuboid pillars that seem far too few and slim to support the thick mass above. The comforting fact that it's a modern building keeping up to modern standards is hard to internalize with the red-green vines spiraling up the pillars and hanging from the ceiling. It almost looks overgrown, abandoned.
I wonder if this is in Celadon City, since this aesthetic definitely feels very “Erika” right about now.
Oh, how I'd love to just walk away. To avoid all the invasive questions about my life and sanity. To get right back to my ghost hunt before any secrets get spilled...
But I can't. The reason why is two meters tall, reeks of musk and stands right behind me.
Yes, Abe had thought ahead. He knew he was small and dainty, that he would have no chance of forcing me out of the house and into a cab by himself. But he knew a slaking would, and what do you know, his friend happened to know one.
Ah. So Red basically got drug kicking and screaming to see the shrink. I take it that this isn’t the first time that he’s been roped into one of these trips, since there’s something about his inner monologue that doesn’t feel particularly surprised about this.
Naturally, I considered pulling out my knife and threatening the mon… but as I weighed my options a little more, I decided against it. While it would be best to exterminate the ghost as soon as possible, it wouldn't help me much if my brother was convinced I was too dangerous to reason with. He'd begin to try his best to get me locked up, and I'm sure he'd eventually find the hidden room - and then I'd be exposed anyway.
Wait, wait, wait. Red has a
brother in this continuity? Is that also a thing in TPP, or is it a creation for story?
On the other hand, actually going to this stupid shrink and getting a professional's opinion that I was perfectly normal would shut him right up. Probably put me in the files as clean as well. Undoubtedly a worthwhile investment.
I sure hope that the technology in this setting isn’t advanced enough to support mainstream brainwave readers, otherwise… yeah, Red’s gonna be in for a bad time.
Abe finishes paying the cab driver further behind and scurries over to me. My sight accidentally veers to the left and meets the slaking's eyes. The mon snorts. I quickly look back to Abe, who answers my stare with an innocent, pup-like smile.
"Okay, let's go," he says, then turns to the slaking. "Thanks a lot for your help. Do you think you could still stay here until twenty past and make sure he doesn't try slipping away?"
The slaking grins. "You got it, kid."
"Thanks so much, Joe. I owe you one."
Right, Pokémon can speak in human languages in this setting. I forgot about that one since it’s been a couple chapters since we saw Red’s roomies in depth.
We leave the mon behind and enter the clinic. The very first room is a spacious white-and-viridian hall - a dramatic change from the thin crevice of the entrance. Outside us and a receptionist in his glass-encased desk, the hall is void of people.
Abe walks up to the desk and rests his fingers on the counter. “Hi,” he begins quietly. “My brother has an appointment.”
Red: “For the record, this is completely unnecessary, Abe.” >_>;
“Name?” asks the receptionist, his eyes locked on mine as I sluggishly approach. I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. What’s the matter with this one? Nothing. But I bet that’s what they all say.
“Ichiro Akai,” Abe answers for me. "But he prefers to be called Red."
Oh, so Red is the eldest child in the family. Duly noted there, though I’m also curious as to if there’s TPP meta behind this or if it’s a wholesale creation of yours.
Perhaps in this context, being Ichiro would have been advantageous. With another name, it would be easier to play the part of someone you’re not. But I suppose it's too late for that now.
Yeeeeeah, I suppose that being a TPP protagonist would give a lot of experience with playing the part of someone else.
“Alright. Let’s see...” The man swivels to his computer and begins to click and type. Even amidst his search, his eyes flick back to me. “15.20, Dr Jordan Marsh?”
“Yes.”
“Third floor, hallway E. You can wait there.”
Cosmopolitan names are cosmopolitan, though I suppose you’ve been open in other parts of the internet that there’s a number of Western names floating around in Kanto alongside the Japanese stuff, so I won’t question it too hard.
“Thanks.” Abe nods and heads for the stairway at the side of the hall. I'm about to follow, but then...
“Sir, is that a knife?"
I turn to the receptionist.
"You’ll have to give it up for the duration of your appointment.”
Receptionist: “... Why on earth do you even
have that with you anyways?”
I return to the desk, steps disdainfully unhurried. With the same enthusiasm, I unstrap the scabbard from my belt and place it on the counter.
I take it that there was no analogue to the 2008 Akihabara stabbings in HH!Kanto, or else the dangerous local fauna kept weapons laws relaxed relative to reality. Since getting caught doing this in present day Japan is a fast way to wind up having an uncomfortable conversation at a police station.
As the receptionist drags the decorated leather case through the sliver in the glass, I make sure to keep my eyes pinned to his. Once his gaze strays to meet mine, I speak three slow words, moving only my lips.
"Don't lose it."
He averts his eyes and stashes the knife in a drawer.
Receptionist: “Again, why do you even
have this?”
Abe: “Yeeeeah, you’re definitely not helping to convince others that you
don’t have something wrong with your head, Red.”
I return to Abe. "Third floor, hallway E?"
He nods, and so we begin our journey through the floors. The stairway, encased by concrete walls, coils around an elevator shaft as it ascends. On the second floor, an open door's frame shows a glimpse into a waiting room with minimal decor. On the third floor… the exact same view unfolds. Am I sure Celebi didn't just throw me back fifteen seconds?
No, that’s just the horrors of modern architecture, Red.
My pondering of false gods fades quickly as the room comes fully to view. Three people sit on the rough-textured couches of the central area, none of them paying much attention to the quiet noises of the TV near the ceiling. One is a skinny, bony man fidgeting with his watch and twitching his leg all the while. The other man is heavier and older, slouching back while staring deeply into the blank wall opposite him. The third is a woman so reserved and tiny that I may have missed her presence entirely were it not for the tapping of her fingers on her smartphone.
I can smell the crazy off them.
Do… I
want to know how Red knows what ‘crazy’ smells like? Though given how he’s been telling himself that
he’s not crazy…
"Over there," my brother whispers and points to one of the many hallways leading out of the room. The sign above does indeed say E.
After entering and turning a corner, the hallway boasts a long line of doors. Opposite them rest a few chairs and a tiny table. Abe escorts me to sit down, finally, but… he still stands there.
I sigh and lean back. "You can just leave. You know I wouldn't run off without my knife."
He rubs his arm.
Abe:
Red: “Oh,
come on. Seriously, what do you expect me to do like this?” >_>;
“Just go. Your job is done,” I say, this time with eye contact.
"Alright," he exhales and finally walks off. "Remember, bus 20," he adds over his shoulder.
Ah yes, so Abe’s going to let his brother with questionable mental health go back on his own with a knife. On a public bus. Everyone’s just
okay with that in this region?
"Yep." The bus that goes from here to the high school. Abe even gave me the necessary cash for a ticket. I could’ve told him I had enough on me already, but I’m not gonna say no to free money and exact change at that.
I watch Abe disappear behind the corner, then sigh and take a lengthy blink. My arms cross themselves and my finger begins to tap. The shrink better call me in soon.
Red:
I wonder what Michi and the yamask are doing right now. Are they talking? Who knows what kind of conversation they're having. Oh, what’s that, my yamask friend? You just remembered how the woman whose face you’re carrying died? Oh, she was murdered in an occult ritual? By that man that was following us earlier? Well, that’s not very nice! We should go and tell the nice men at the police station right away!
Oh Gods, what if that’s actually what’s happening? What if they already told the police? What if they’re coming for me right now?
I snerked, both at the sarcastic inner monologue plus the realization that “wait, that could actually be happening
” afterwards.
No, no, think about this logically. Calm down your pounding heart. They don’t have any proof. And in this country, you’re innocent until proven guilty, right? They can’t get me arrested - only questioned at best. And the cops can’t just go ahead and ransack my place based on something a ghost and a little girl said, can they? As long as no one finds out about my secret room, I’m safe. And Joanna never even knew where the room was.
I mean, depending on how “Japan” you’re playing this Kanto… uh… yeah, Red would basically be boned if he got as far as standing in front of a judge since something on the order of 99.8% of criminal prosecutions in Japan result in convictions.
Alright, that's settled. Now back to waiting impatiently. I let my eyes wander around my boring surroundings and what the hell is that?
On the table. Black smudge with legs. That's a spider. Where did it come from? Are there others nearby? No, don't move!
My body squeezes itself against the far armrest. Stop walking this way, you bastard! I don't want anything to do with you, you disgusting, unpredictable stain of a creature. You don't even look alive. You're a machine, created only to crawl into places you shouldn't be in and repulse anyone who spots your ugly silhouette.
Oh, so Red’s an arachnophobe. Filing that one away along with how there’s normal animals in this setting alongside Pokémon.
How does it do it? How does a tiny, harmless critter set off a blaring alarm in my brain, when its cousin ariados are perfectly fine for me to look at?
That's it. I'm sick of this. I’m sounding like common prey here. I'm a predator, apex no less, and this spider will know it. No matter how repugnant you are, you're fifty steps below me in the food chain. Die.
Slaking:
Red: “Shut
up, you’re not even supposed to be here right now!” >.<
My hand is raised, ready to squish, but it only trembles in place. I really, really don't want to feel its shell or innards on my skin. Should I use my shoe instead? It'd be far easier on my heart…
No, this is ridiculous. Red, aren't you the Bringer? Isn't it your fate to merge with the Lord of Predators and usher forth a new age?
Clearly he is not remotely ready for this alleged fate if he’s this squeamish about gooshing a spider. Though I actually wonder how common it is among serial killers to struggle surprisingly hard with killings outside their normal profiles.
You've killed eight human beings in a slow and painful way. You've drunk their blood and eaten their flesh. And now suddenly killing a spider by hand is off limits because the touch of one is a bit icky?
It's almost like you weren't suitable to be the Bringer after all…
Slam.
I mean, he probably
still isn’t suitable to be the Bringer, but at least he managed to talk himself past the “ew” factor of gooshing the spider.
Th-there. It's done. It's dead. It's dead, right? I don't think it's moving. I just feel its broken body, its gross body. It's done, so now I can get it off. Quickly, in case it isn't dead after all.
I yank the hand off the table and swipe the palm on the knee of my jeans. Spider corpse on jeans, okay, get off, I flick it off and it drops to the floor. I'm safe. Not that I wasn't ever safe. I can just be at ease now.
“Ichiro Akai?”
Whelp, so much for Red being at ease there.
Who said that? Who said that? Oh, the psych! She's standing in the frame of one of the doors, freshly opened. She?
I get up. "Yes, that's me."
Yeah, I knew he’d be caught off-guard there.
“I'm Dr Jordan Marsh. Please, come in."
Jordan, huh. I guess it's unisex. But more surprising is her outfit. Red cat-eye glasses, jet black bowl cut, mascara, clothes black and white with the exception of a striking red scarf. Half secretary, half rebellious teen who'd tell me giratinism is the way to go. And I'd tell them to fuck off because I already have a cult.
I kinda feel like Red’s inner monologue works better separated from Jordan’s line, but that might be a stylistic thing from my end.
As I make my way to the door, I steal one last glance at the dead spider on the floor one more time. Still there. It really is dead.
I enter the room and take in its interior. Big window taking up a lot of the back wall. Desk in one corner, two armchairs in the other. Small table between the chairs. On the table lie a clock, a vase of flowers - plastic… and a box of tissues. Seriously?
inb4 Red winds up needing those tissues during the session, since… yeah, he’s clearly not fully balanced mentally, so I’m sure he can wind up going to some surprising places.
Dr Marsh closes the door. "Please, have a seat."
I choose the far chair. Its dark green leather is comfortable enough. Well, faux leather, I'm sure.
Well, that certainly sounds on-brand for a medical facility given that green
is known to be a soothing color for patients.
The woman seats herself in the other armchair, finds an empty page in her notebook and finally brings her gaze back to me.
"So," she begins, "how are you?"
I blink. "Right now?"
"Right now."
"Fine, I guess."
I mean, I wouldn’t be terribly shocked if Red would consider his status quo of cutting up people in his basement normal and perfectly fine were it not for his ongoing ghost issues, so…
"You guess?"
I suppress a frown. "I know." Is the whole thing going to be this slow?
“Alright, then...” She scribbles something in her notebook. Was… was that important?
Yeeeeah, this session is going to wind up going to interesting places, I can tell.
“So, what is it that you're here for?” she asks.
Red: “Because my brother literally strongarmed me with his Slaking to come here?” >_>;
"Not sure, to be honest. My brother set this up for me. Did he say why?"
"I think he told me that you seemed unhappy and on-edge. He also mentioned something about violent tendencies. Do you recognize that in yourself?"
Red: “Define ‘violent tendencies’, there.”
Violent tendencies. I guess word of my reputation reached him at high school… but it's not like this lady's gonna know. "Not really. I'm just not one to wear my heart on my sleeve."
“So you’d consider yourself a mentally healthy person?”
“Yes.” Probably more than most.
Ah yes, it’s like the Principal Skinner meme of who’s the person that’s the problem. :V
“Have you had any previous diagnoses?”
“No."
"What about the Twitch?"
Oh, so
that’s what Red’s spell as a TPP puppet is called in this story. Though wait, does that mean that
all of the other protagonists that had a TPP runthrough are also affected by Helix in this setting?
I flinch. So Abe told her… maybe that's why he wanted me looked at. Thought he was doing me a favor by having me open up about that to a professional.
Red: “(Seriously, of
all the people Lord Helix needs as a sacrifice, he just
has to not ask for the bratty little brother who’s constantly endangering me.)” >_>;
"Right," I say, "that didn't even come to mind… I guess it shows I'm pretty much over it."
"Over it?"
Oh, please don't sound so incredulous. I don't want that experience to mark me. Sure, I still have nightmares about those days, and sure, I still can't use modern technology without terrifying flashbacks, and sure, it somehow caused me to develop an obsession towards a little marine mon, an obsession that I now desperately need to destroy for the sake of ascension… but I need the world to see me as normal despite that.
Somehow. Gods, this might not be as simple as I'd previously thought. Gotta think of a reply to acknowledge this, but still downplay it enough…
Yeah, the experience totally marked him. Though I wonder if the inner monologue line from Red is dense enough that it ought to be formatted as two smaller ones, since things from “Somehow” onward feel a bit thematically distinct from the stuff beforehand.
“Well, I get some nightmares now and then about those times… but I know it's over now, and that calms me down each time I have one.”
Cue Jordan shoving a phone into Red’s lap and casually disproving his statement.
She writes something in her notebook again, then returns to more mundane questions. She asks me about how well I've slept, if I'm on any medication, whether or not I use any substances… couldn't I just have filled out some form? This is taking annoyingly long. My finger starts to tap again, but I stop it.
“Alright then, moving on. Tell me, how is school for you?” Dr Marsh asks, eyes on her notes.
“It’s okay. I don’t get the highest grades, but I don’t need them.”
I’m honestly surprised that he hasn’t dropped out between the whole aftermath of the Twitch and the fact that Red canonically goes full hermit in official media.
“That’s funny...”
Wait. Wait, I may have fucked up. “Why’s that?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Because I know you quit high school two years ago.”
Oh, well. There we go. So Red
did have his hermit episode after all, even if it manifested a bit differently from the canonical flavor.
I freeze. Shit, I got caught lying. How does she know I quit? Did Abe tell her? It must have been Abe. That little sneasel…
Red: “(Seriously, Lord Helix. If you could ask for the bratty little brother for once, you’d
really be doing me a solid.)”
“Why did you quit?” she asks, leaning back in her chair. She has a more… relaxed air to her now. It’s like she was waiting for me to slip up.
Narrator: “She was absolutely waiting for him to slip up.”
Okay, why did I quit, why did I quit. Quitting isn’t normal. What’s normal for quitters? What’s normal for a person in my situation? I quit because the people pissed me off way too much and I needed time to hunt down sacrifices for HIM. And take care of the omanyte - well, omastar back then, but... that’s history now.
But Could that work as a reason here? If I let her know I cared for someone - and from others’ perspective, still do - she’s less likely to consider me a potential danger to society.
Another paragraph where it might work better formatted as two smaller ones.
“I needed time off to care for my... friend who’d fallen ill.” I guess that’s the best word to use here, since ‘master’ and ‘lord’ are definitely out of the question.
“Helix, right? An omanyte?”
The name sounds so wrong coming from her mouth. Still, I nod.
Red: “... (I’m still sounding completely crazy right now, aren’t I?)” >.<
“Your brother told me you hold Him in very high regard… even that you considered Him a ‘god’. How accurate is this?”
Wait, is the capital ‘Him’ meant to be deliberate in Jordan’s dialogue? I wouldn’t have pegged Jordan as having any reverence for Helix, though I suppose that could just as easily be Red’s perspective automatically rendering it in such a fashion.
I force a laugh. “Well, that’s an exaggeration. Some people say they ‘worship’ the people they love, you know?”
“I believe this is usually reserved for romantic interests. Are You two --”
“N-no.” That’s just… uncomfortable to think about. “Just friends. With a strong bond.”
Ah yes, steering the conversation to that one notorious meme panel of earlier PokéSpe. >:V
“Can you further describe this bond between You two? How did it form?”
Memories flood my mind. The timid eyes of a newly-hatched omanyte, the touch of its cautiously reaching arm, these sensations muffling the voices screaming inside my skull. Then an older omanyte playfully swimming in loops and circles. The sound of its ‘good morning’ as I come downstairs. The pattern of its shell, the captivating spiral. The slit pupils of perceptive, yellow eyes and the coiling of tentacles upon tentacles. The deep blue blood on Mt Silver’s snow. The pain in His voice. The pain in my chest.
I feel the same pain now. My heart wrapped in coarse rope, the loops chafing the organ and getting tighter. It hurts, but it shouldn’t hurt, there shouldn't be any kind of reaction. You can’t care… no - you don’t care. You got that? You keep H- it safe and healthy for HIS benefit, but you don’t talk to it, touch it or even look at it any more than you have to, alright?
You know the drill here. I get the vibe that Red’s mind is meant to be racing right now, but even so, I do think that the present version is in a big enough block that it’s a bit dense to get through in one go.
That’s how you’ll move on. By realizing it’s just an… object, a tool. A lowly organism whose breath and beating heart just happen to allow HIS powers to grow much faster. It’s not HIM. It doesn’t even know about HIM. Aside from its spirit link, it’s worthless. A distraction. And if you want to be the Bringer, you can’t let anything hold you back. HE told you so. Sever that attachment, or you have no chance - HE was very, very clear about that. Either that connection dies… or you do.
Red:
“Are you alright?”
I'm in the room again. It's weirdly quiet. Was it always this quiet?
“Yeah, just got lost in thought,” I answer, fixing my sight on my hands to keep any more images from surfacing. They’ve curled into fists. I pry them open.
Jordan: “I’m… just going to go and take that as a ‘no’, there.” -_-;
Oh Gods, I just want to get out of here and get on with my plans. This isn’t worth it anymore. How could I cut this short, but do so politely and normally…? Ah, got it! Why didn't I think of this before?
“Actually, though…” I interrupt the psych's writing. “I'm sorta getting a pretty bad headache right now.”
“Oh.” She lowers her pen. “Can you not go on?”
“I don't think I can, no… I'm sorry.” I rub my forehead. “I get migraines from time to time, and this feels like one…”
I mean, at least he knew better than to go and try to feign a conveniently-timed stomachache? ^^;
“How bad is it? Do you need help?”
“Nah, no, I… I think I should just go home and sleep it off. That usually does it.”
I get up and she makes no motions to stop me. I take that as a sign of success.
Cue the jinx in 3… 2…
“Shall we reschedule?” she asks. Dammit, she isn't done with me yet.
“Yeah, we should… I don't have a phone right now, so please call my brother.” I wobble to the door. “Thanks… goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” she replies as I walk out and close the door.
Red: “... Dammit, why did I
tell her to call Abe back?! Now I won’t be able to get out of avoiding her!” >.<
Phew. Won't have to worry about that for a while. Hopefully not before I manage to get rid of the mask.
Watch as the rescheduled session is literally the very next day. It just feels very on-brand with the sort of luck that Red has been having this chapter thus far.
I backtrack the route I walked with Abe, though nearly get lost on the way, as some hallways are pretty much identical. The blueprints of this place must have been just an elaborate squiggle. Nevertheless, I arrive at the main hall and resume feigning a headache, just in case. After waiting through a short line at the reception desk, I ask for my knife back and receive it. I swear I could’ve seen a hint of malicious joy in the receptionist’s eyes. Should that kind of person really be in such a social profession? I’d never put myself in a job like that.
I mean, as much of a social loner Red is in this incarnation, I’m convinced that the main block to him lording it over others in a social profession is simply that he hates dealing with people.
As I exit the building, I glance around, but see no slaking. He must have left by now, good. I search for and quickly spot a bus stop a bit further down the road, sprint over and make sure I still have the cash Abe gave me in my pocket. I do. Great. There’s plenty, too - I suppose in case of the price being more than anticipated. At least that little dork thinks ahead.
Alright, bus 20. You better come soon.
I’m now morbidly curious as to if Red ever flashes his knife in order to claim nicer seats while on public transport. On the one hand, he feels sufficiently petty enough to do that, but it might be a bit bolder than how he normally operates.
I step off the bus at the stop next to the high school, knowing the library is only a short walk away. I’m doubly glad about it now after having to sit next to some human-snorlax hybrid who probably hadn’t showered since his puberty began. Compared to that and the general stuffy air of public transportation, the outside’s cold gusts are refreshing - but much better is to come.
Oh, the library. While on the outside, you may look like a secret government containment unit for extraterrestrial life with your shape of octagonal dome and colors of chessboard, I know the beauty that hides inside you.
I actually wonder if this library is based off any buildings in particular, since that feels like a
very particular design described there.
The shelves of dark, carefully lacquered wood. The books of infinite colors and patterns, like flowers in bloom. The scent of freshly baked pastries from the café in the same building, and the sound of… nothing. Nothing but a few lone steps and the swish of a turned page every now and then. No babbling, no traffic. Only serenity.
I wonder now… why haven’t I come here in such a long time? I came here all the time in high school - well, the one year I managed to spend there. I would read about biology, about anatomy, learning how exactly those organs I’d seen and handled worked… and suddenly, chemistry was interesting, physics was interesting. So many things were. I wanted to learn even more…
Oh, so the events of TPP in this setting happened while Red was a Freshman in high school, huh?
But then I quit. I stopped going to school. I stopped going places in general, not that there were many. I guess it all lost its meaning somehow…
Oh, whatever. I’m on a mission here. I shouldn’t be thinking of the past with the present being such a mess. A mess only I can fix - but the tools I require lie within this building.
… Are there even
reputable ghost-hunting manuals to be had in a public library, Red? You’d think that the quality of materials would be kinda scattershot. ^^;
I sprint to the doors and slip inside. It's warm, as always, and… wait, what?
Where are the wooden shelves? Where is the café? And what is that smell? It's like a rabid rattata had busted into the kitchen and knocked over everything on the spice rack! This isn't mellow and relaxing, this is an assault on the senses!
And what is going on with the library itself? It's like it's going for the opposite effect, sensory deprivation! Where are the colors? Where are the textures? Everything's grayscale, everything's plastic! Even the books look like they're wilting…
Who would do this? Who would like this? Is it so important for those modernist snobs to shove their so-called art in people's faces that they've begun defacing public property?
Can’t tell if Red is having an episode or if he’s just discovered that the library’s been renovated since the last time he was in it.
Gods… my hand draws itself to my forehead. I feel weak. The scent… it's not just spices - which seem to come from a deli that stands where the café used to - I can even pick up rubber and new paint. A sure recipe for a headache… is this divine retribution for lying about having one before?
Whelp, renovation confirmed.
Forget it, it's not important. What's important is finding out how to get rid of that ghost. I can lament the state of our society some other time.
Alright. I calm my nerves and head to the Fact section. From there, Biology, Pokémon, Ghost. One shelf. A shelf not made of sturdy wood with elegant striping, but a long metal sheet bent into a squiggle to constrict the books within… no, don’t let your thoughts wander, get back on track. I pick a book that looks comprehensive enough - The Complete Guide to Ghosts - and sit down on the closest chair I find.
Wait, they really call the place where informational books are kept the “Fact section”? Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a public library, but I did a double-take there.
Skimming the book, it seems most of this information is either already familiar to me or completely irrelevant. Everyone knows dark beats ghost by first grade, and I doubt knowing the exact density and composition of a gastly's smoke is going to help with my current situation. Are yamask gone over in this book? I skip to the glossary and look under Y - nope. To hell with this book, then. I return it to the shelf and look for the next…
Unfortunately, the same repeats with that book. And the third. Fourth. Fifth. Or, well, not quite. Some of them mentioned yamask. One even included an illustration… but that was all. No new information gained.
Red, have you considered just asking someone to use a search engine for you to get around your whole ‘war flashbacks’ thing with modern technology? ^^;
Is there no book specifically on yamask? There has to be. Though there's no guarantee there would be one in this library. That thought takes my heart in its hand and bounces it like a basketball. What if I can't find the information on my own? I'll have to ask somebody, and that'll leave a trace, a big stinking one at that. I can't have that… but the alternative is to try and search the internet, and I… I can't…
I mean, there probably
would be one… in Unova. But yeah, I suppose it should be unsurprising that smaller libraries wouldn’t just have books going in-depth about Pokémon from out-of-region lying around since they’d almost never need to be used by locals.
No, focus! Don't give up yet! There are still plenty of books to go through.
I scan the backs of each yet again. Generic, generic, gastly line, misdreavus line, generic… hold on. Some of these have been pushed in back first. I flip around a few. Generic, Ghosts of Hoenn, Faces of the Past: The Unovan Ya-
Yamask.
Red: “
Finally, holy crap that was annoying.” >_>;
The golden mask on the cover stares deep into my eyes with its empty sockets. It whispers congratulations on finding it.
I open the book right away. Tell me, what is a yamask?
Yamask, specifically the Unovan variant, are ghost-type pokémon with shadow-like bodies and large red eyes that seem to drip a viscous liquid. With their arms or prehensile tail, they carry a golden mask that resembles a human face . . . Okay, all of that I already knew. Skipping a bit further…
I actually wonder if there are other plot points in this story specifically arise from Red having a Luddite streak, since I just realized that this entire atmospheric scene in the library wouldn’t work if Red was capable of just hitting up Not!Google like a normal person. It’s definitely a clever leveraging of how he’s a bit off-kilter in how he operates.
As with many other ghost pokémon, it has long been believed that these creatures are reincarnations of humans that have perished in the past. In the case of the Unovan yamask and its Galarian cousin, however, there has been significantly more evidence in favor of this theory than for other ghost species. There exist numerous records of Unovan yamask remembering experiences of the person whose face they appear to carry as well as retaining attitudes and behaviors the deceased was reported to have possessed . . .
Red:
Shit. It’s as I feared. The ghost is either Joanna herself or an imitation functionally equivalent to the real thing…
But I suppose it makes little difference. I’d already decided to kill the thing, no matter what it was. And speaking of killing, let’s try to find something on that next…
I’m a bit surprised that a book about a Pokémon would just casually include instructions of how to best kill them, but I suppose that that would be necessary for potentially navigating hostile encounters.
I continue my skimming. It seems that these yamask are most numerous near the ruins of an ancient desert civilization in Unova, but also appear elsewhere around the world, seemingly at random. They can also evolve - they can, now?
That actually makes me wonder what the primary determinant is for what regional form a randomly spawned Yamask will take or not.
I flip the page to meet a fierce gaze. Red eyes filled with malice stare from the darkness inside of a sarcophagus. Four arms of shadow reach at the camera, seeking to grasp the viewer into a cold embrace and… eat them, maybe, I don’t know, haven’t gotten that far. But it’s also not relevant for me as long as I’m fast enough not to let Joanna evolve, so I skip to the glossary for clues on how to eliminate a yamask specimen.
I’m pretty sure that this is tempting fate, Red, just saying.
Some jumping between pages lets me know the gist. With ghosts, the most obvious answer is always an exorcism. There are two kinds: fatal and non-fatal, and the names refer to what happens to the ghost as a result. Fatal destroys the ghost, ‘banishing’ it from reality, while non-fatal exorcisms are used to simply force a ghost out of a person, object or location without necessarily harming the spirit. They’re also apparently harder to pull off.
Well, then it’s a good thing I want this thing wiped off the earth! Fatal is the obvious choice. But then again… exorcisms can’t be that simple. And if they require actual faith to work, they definitely won’t be my thing. Were I not serving a god I’ve witnessed with my own two eyes, I’d dismiss religion entirely.
Yeeeeeah, knowing how TPP was basically a continuous stream of chaos, I’d think that attempting to exorcise anything with the power of Helix would have a non-trivial chance of just making the target stronger.
Oh, there appears to be another way of handling things. It involves taking the creature’s mask and wearing it, which will cause one to be possessed. This will make the ghost tangible within the host’s reality, allowing the human to land a deadly strike to destroy the yamask once and for all. However, this technique only tends to work with new ghosts and with the element of surprise at hand as the ghost can easily escape from reach soon after the possession's beginning…
Oh, so
that’s the method that Red’s going to attempt to use to deal with Joanna.
Well, aren't I lucky to be dealing with a first-time ghost, then? Sounds like all I have to do is be quick and cunning, and that's what HE has trained me to be. This'll be a piece of cake.
Still, I should look into that exorcism business. It'd be foolish not to have a back-up plan. Back to the shelf it is…
Yeah, I can already tell that this is going to be a saga and a half, since one of the very consistent messages that HH has had so far about Red is that he’s nowhere near as cool and competent as he assesses himself to be in moments like this.
I fold the napkin and tuck it in my pocket. I really should’ve brought my notebook along.
I stop to stare at the ballpoint pen I’d borrowed to scribble down the instructions to one exorcism I found. Should I return it, or accept it as compensation for the horrible renovation of this place? Eh, I guess I’ll return it. I have enough enemies as is.
And there’s Exhibit A to the last point right there.
I walk up to the librarian and return the pen with a smile and a thank you - just to see if I was still capable of performing such actions, I suppose. I exit the library and --
Sunlight! Sweet, golden sunlight, unobstructed by clouds, oh, this is wonderful. I guess the sky is clearing up after all! And the fresh air… I breathe my lungs full of it. Oh, Gods, yes, this is what it’s all about.
So Red’s an outdoorsy person. I suppose that that
does check out with what we’ve seen of him in the first couple chapters.
I lean on a lightpost for a brief moment of deeper relaxation - but an unexpected texture against my hoodie's arm scatters my thoughts. Plastic among metal. I glance for an answer.
ARCEUS SAVES, reads a tacky blue sticker. Oh, so those morons are loose in this neighborhood…
These hypocritical irony moments in this story are always fun to see. Since from a certain way of looking at things, Red has a
lot more in common with those Arceists than he’d ever care to admit.
But my frown melts away as fast as it came. Such trivialities can't bring me down now. I finally have the answers I need. The road onward is clear, and at the end of that road… I have the privilege of another kill. It's only fair, really. I wasn't there to see her die the first time. This time is another story.
What flickered back at the supermarket earlier today will soon get to blaze.
Tonight, the predator is on the hunt.
I’ll take the under on that ‘hunt’ being successful given that there’s 10 numbered chapters, a midequel, and an Extra to go from this point, but I suppose the journey
is always more important than the destination in a story.
